IT HAD BEEN UTTERLYstupid to go to Gideon’s bed last night.
Rune was certain he’d been too drugged to remember her climbing under his covers and burrowing into him. That wasn’t the problem.
The problem was,sheremembered.
She remembered all of it.
His heat, driving the chill out of her body. The delicious feel of his bare skin against hers. His powerful arms holding her fiercely, tightly. As if she washis. As if nothing could hurt her so long as he was there.
It could be like that every night, if you wanted.
And she did want it.
That was the problem.
Rune had woken from a nightmare and found herself alone in the dark. These days, her nightmares were usually about Cressida. But last night, it was Nan who walked her dreams. Blood Guard soldiers dragged her grandmother up the purging platform’s steps as she screamed for Rune to help her. But the crowd pressed in from all directions, and the more Rune tried to get to her, the more they forced her back.
Until Nan’s screams fell silent.
Rune couldn’t sleep after that. Every shadow hid a nightmare. And though it was irrational, she wanted Gideon. In a moment of weakness, she went searching for him.
She found him sleeping in the bedroom across the hall, along with some tincture on his bedside table. Giving it a sniff, Rune recognized the smell of a sleeping draught.
It was a mistake, and she regretted it. She couldn’t let it happen again. She needed to tear herself away before Cressida found them. It was only a matter of time.
There were two choices: have Gideon ripped away from her, or leave before he could be.
No, there’s a third choice. You can ask him to come with you.
She shook the thought away.
“Sugar?”
Rune glanced up to find Bart Wentholt holding out a mug of coffee in one hand and a sugar bowl in the other.
Rune took the coffee, cupping its warmth. “Please.”
It was funny how, now that she was really looking, there was an intelligence in his warm brown eyes she hadn’t noticed before. Bart Wentholt had fooled her into thinking him a dolt, and Rune admired him for it—the way one con artist admires another.
Bart dropped a lump of sugar in her mug before moving on to Seraphine, who was already taking her seat at this table on the terrace. Around them, bees droned in the flowers, birds sang in the trees, and sunlight filled the air.
It was strangely peaceful, for an island at war.
Harrow sat on the opposite end of the table from Juniper, who sat on the other side of Rune. Gideon took the seat between Harrow and Bart.
An invisible line had been drawn across the table, separating witches from patriots. The patriots had no reason to believe these witches weren’t secretly loyal to Cressida or her causes. And the witches couldn’t be sure this wasn’t a trap, with Blood Guard soldiers coming to arrest them at any moment.
If this was going to work, they all had to trust each other. But no one had a reason to.
Maybe, once he sees how impossible this mission is, Gideon will give up and come with me.
“Seraphine, Juniper…” Gideon glanced from witches to patriots. “This is Bart. And it seems you already know Harrow.”
Juniper shifted in her seat but said nothing. Harrow crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.
“Well?” she asked Gideon. “What’s your plan, Comrade? The Blood Guard are looking for you. Cressida is looking for you. You can’t hide here forever.”
“He doesn’t have a plan,” said Rune.
