He stared at her, not comprehending. It was one thing for Noah to be angry at his sister’s defiance, but leaving her for dead?
“Noah demanded I hunt you down and bring you back—to prove my loyalty. When I refused, he locked me in here for Cressida’s mercenaries to find.”
A tide of anger swept through Gideon.
“Does he not know what soldiers do to women in wartime?” he said through gritted teeth.
“On the contrary,” said Laila, glancing away. “That’s why he left me here.” She stared at the wrench in her hands. “I had to decide: starve to death, or be discovered by the wrong type of soldier.” Her gaze lifted to Gideon. “Luckily, the right one walked in.”
He heard the relief in her voice. She’d been expecting a very different fate.
Gideon crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. She leaned her head against his shoulder, a shaky breath escaping.
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”
For the briefest of moments, he was thankful they were at war. In war, rules of civility were altered. If Gideon ever came face-to-face with Noah, he could shoot him with a clean conscience.
“And the other soldiers? They left you here, like this?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t know. Noah sent them ahead before ordering his guards to lock me up. They likely arrived at the Rookery thinking I was a day behind them.”
Gideon reached for the chains of her manacles, looking for the lock.
“Noah took the key with him.”
He dropped the chains and studied the pipes. They were welded together. He doubted an axe—should he even be able to find one—would do much damage.
How was he going to get her out of here?
“I can help.”
The voice came from behind them. Gideon spun as Laila’s gaze sliced toward the open doorway, where Rune stood in the shadows. A pale white flame flickered in the air above her outstretched hand. Slung over her shoulder was a leather satchel stuffed with books.
“As I’m sure you remember”—the corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile—“I have a spell for picking locks.”
SEVENTY-THREERUNE
AFTER FREEING LAILA, THEYall rode for the Wentholt cottage, arriving shortly before sundown. They had to split two horses between the three of them, so Rune rode with Gideon.
It was Rune who sighted the red uniforms through the trees—Blood Guard officers. A dozen or so, patrolling the grounds.
They halted their horses.
How many more were inside?
It doesn’t matter,thought Rune, her eyes narrowing on the red coats. She’d gotten out of stickier situations. And her friends were inside that cottage.
She dismounted the horse, leaving Gideon in the saddle, and headed straight for it.
“Rune,” Gideon whispered. But before he could stop her, six soldiers emerged from the trees, guns pointed right at them.
Gideon and Laila immediately raised their hands while Rune contemplated grabbing Gideon’s holstered pistol— or the knife sheathed at her calf—when a surprised voice called out.
“Hold!”
A young soldier with copper hair lowered his rifle, motioning for the others to do the same.
“It’s Sharpe and Creed.”
