Gideon fingered the gun holstered at his hip. He was ready. More than ready. All he needed was the right moment…
“Do you miss your home?”
Gideon scanned the circle of party guests surrounding Rune and Soren until his gaze landed on the speaker: a young woman with wheat-gold hair braided into a crown.
Rune laughed. “Can you miss a place where everyone wants you dead?”
Gideon watched her press her champagne glass to her red lips, then tip the last swallow into her mouth.
It was her third drink tonight.
Not that Gideon was counting.
“What was it like before the revolution?”
“We witches once lived as you do,” Rune said, motioning to the grand hall they stood in, where chandeliers twinkled and marble columns propped up the painted ceiling. “Our lives were full of music, beauty, art…”
Yes,thought Gideon.And your luxuries came at the expense of our misery.
The buzz and hum of fiddles grew louder. Gideon glanced across the room, where guests began to fill chairs facing the musicians.
“That way of life was stolen from us the night Gideon Sharpe led a group of revolutionaries into the palace.”
At the sound of his name on her lips, his attention shot back to her.
“He murdered two queens in their beds while his comrades cut the rest of us down in the streets. He would have let them murder me, too, if Cressida hadn’t saved me.”
Gideon bristled.You’re leaving out a lot of the story, sweetheart.
“It must be heartbreaking,” said the prince as his knuckles grazed the bumps of Rune’s spine in a slow path downward. “To be so far away, knowing the horrible things taking place there… I’m glad you’re free of it.”
Soren’s arms slid around her waist, in what might have been an effort to comfort her, but felt more like a reminder: Rune washis.
Gideon rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to relax.
“Witches are still being slaughtered for nothing more than the crime of being what they are,” said Rune, studying her empty glass from within Soren’s arms. “I’ll never be free until every last one of my sisters is free, too.”
The hum of instruments fell silent and an announcement sounded: the recital was starting.
One by one, the circle of guests dispersed, moving toward the musicians.
Twining his fingers through Rune’s, Soren tugged her toward their seats. They’d barely walked two steps when the first song started, and Rune’s footsteps faltered.
Gideon watched her jerk to a stop.
“Everything all right?” asked the prince, turning back to her.
As the music rose, Gideon glanced to the musicians. The song was familiar. But why he recognized it, he didn’t know.
“I-I need to powder my nose.” Rune seemed to be struggling to compose herself. “I’ll be right back…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Soren. “The concert has begun.” He lowered his voice. “This recital is foryou, Rune. To celebrate our engagement. You need to be here.”
His fingers white-knuckled around hers.
Gideon’s eyes narrowed. His body tightened like a coiled spring as he watched Soren drag her onward. Closer to the music. The very thing she was trying to get away from.
“I need…” Rune tried to tug her hand out of his. When Soren appeared to grip harder, refusing to release her, Gideon stepped out of position along the wall. The guards stationed ten paces down glanced his way, reminding Gideon that he was surrounded by enemies. He couldn’t draw attention to himself.
