“Oh.” He nodded. “Go ahead.”
Another horse whinnied, and Rune paused to listen before turning back to Gideon. Hoping she remembered the spellmarks accurately, she drew them on his skin—a cumbersome task, with her hands tied. When nothing happened, she assumed the spell had failed.
But then: magic rushed, flowing through her like sunlight. It swirled around them, infusing the air.
Gideon breathed in as if inhaling some delicious aroma, then struggled to get to his feet.
Rune came to his side, helping him up. But when his arm came around her shoulders, pressing down, the weight was too much for her flayed back and she clenched her teeth at the pain.
He withdrew his arm. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.” At the sound of voices in the trees—closer than before—she added: “Can you walk without help?”
That spell would wear off in a few hours. They needed to get somewhere safe before then, so Rune could dig out the bullets and sew him up.
“I… think so.” He stood, shakily, on his own two feet.
Suddenly, a softwhuffcame out of the darkness. Much too close.
Beside her, Gideon tensed.
But Rune smiled, recognizing the sound.
“It’s all right,” she said as the silhouette of a giant horse emerged from the trees several feet ahead. “It’s Lady.”
Rune had remembered the whistle in her dress pocket while Gideon carried her through the meadow. She’d pulled it out and blown one hard, fierce note—a sound inaudible to human ears. Neither Gideon nor their pursuers would have heard it.
But Lady did.
“She found us.”
The horse bobbed her head and whinnied softly.
Rune helped Gideon mount the horse, who in turn grabbed her hand and pulled her up in front of him.
SIXTY-ONERUNE
THEY BROKE INTO THEWentholt family’s summer home.
Well, technically, theywalkedin. The back door was unlocked.
After escaping Wintersea, Rune agreed with Gideon it was the safest place at the moment—the cottage was tucked away in the woods, far from the main roads, and likely the family had already fled. With any luck, they’d be able to get supplies and tend his wounds before moving on.
Gideon was eerily quiet as she helped him through the Wentholts’ house, searching for first aid supplies. The ashen hue of his face worried Rune, who knew her spell would wear off soon. She could recast it, but what he really needed was someone to dig out the bullets, then sanitize and stitch up the wounds.
In the empty servants’ quarters, Rune lowered Gideon into a chair to rest and then rifled through cupboards, trying to find what she needed.Torchblazed overhead, the white flame following her as she searched drawers and boxes.
Her body buzzed with panic. There was nothing here. She was about to go look in the kitchens, where she might find a cleaner, sharper knife to dig out the bullets. But then what? She needed to disinfect the wounds somehow. She needed a needle and thread to stitch them closed.
Rune cursed herself for not learning more healing spells. If she got the chance, she would correct that.
She was crossing the room toward Gideon when the sound of voices stopped her in her tracks. Rune smudged the spellmark on her hand, extinguishingTorchand plunging them into darkness.
A man laughed—a low, husky sound.
“I don’t care,” said the other voice. “Let the bastards find us. I’ll fight them all off. For you, I’d…”
A low groan cut him off, followed by the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor.
