She looked away, smiling. “Answer the question, Gideon.”
He seemed about to protest, but instead reached up into her hair, still bound in a messy braid.
“I think about doing this.”
He tugged it loose, so it fell over her shoulder.
“And this.”
He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. Rune laughed as she straddled his hips.
“And… this.”
Sitting up, he cupped her neck, bringing her mouth to his. Rune hummed low in her throat as he kissed her hungrily. His arm slid around her waist, sealing them together as he slowly rocked against her. Showing her what he wanted.
The fire in her belly grew hotter and brighter with every rocking thrust.
Grabbing hold of the bunk overhead, Rune rolled her hips to meet him. Paying attention to his breath, his pulse, the way he groaned when she did something he really liked, and then did more of that. Until they found their perfect rhythm.
She marveled at the magic of it. Like there was something far bigger than themselves binding them together. Working like a fiery spell.
“Rune.” He spoke her name like an incantation.“Rune.”His fingers plunged into her hair. “If you don’t slow down, I’m going to—”
She cradled his face in her hands. “I want you to, my love.”
His eyes gazed up at her, tender, defiant. Trying to resist. To hold off and wait for her.
Rune narrowed her eyes at him, determined to win, until he laughed aloud. It was his laugh that did her in—the sound ofhis love and delight. She lost herself in it. Pressing her forehead to his, she let the fire overtake her, too.
They made love like it was the last time. Like they wouldn’t survive tomorrow.
Just in case they didn’t.
SEVENTY-TWOGIDEON
WHEN THE TRAIN SLOWEDat the next rail yard, they retrieved their clothes, dressed, and jumped off. The yard was deep in the countryside, wheat fields on one side, rye on the other. They found two horses grazing in a pasture close by and borrowed them. Rune left her pouch full of coins behind to compensate the owners before they returned them.
They rode for the Wentholt cottage, keeping to the woods and following the rivers as much as possible to avoid the main roads. When Wintersea came into view, they ventured close to see if it was abandoned. The horses were gone. No guards patrolled. The house appeared to be empty.
Carefully, they ventured inside so Rune could fetch the spell books she’d failed to steal last time, which might come in useful in their stand against Cressida and the Good Commander. The empty marble halls echoed with their footsteps. Paintings had been smashed and tables overturned, but whether it was the Blood Guard who’d done it, or bandits, or Cressida’s hired soldiers, they couldn’t tell.
As they walked the vandalized halls, Gideon was transported to the first time he’d ever set foot in this house: the night Blood Guard soldiers dragged Kestrel Winters away to be purged while he kept a close eye on the old witch’s granddaughter.
He remembered Rune standing there, letting it happen, her face stoic as a statue. Gideon took her hand and squeezed itfirmly, hating that he’d played a part in the most horrible night of her life.
I can’t change the past,he thought as they walked, taking in the damage.But together, maybe we can change the future.
When they started up the staircase, Rune rested her free hand on the mahogany railing. Her voice rang with certainty as she said, “One day, this will be my home again.”
Gideon stood watch outside her bedroom while she collected the things she needed. He paced quietly, listening for any sound of danger, stopping at the window near the end of the hall and scanning the grounds to look for signs of intruders.
But all was still at Wintersea. No one was out there.
He was about to turn away from the window when he heard a sound. Like metal striking metal.
It was so faint, he assumed it was coming from outside.
But then he heard it again.
