But Alex wasn’t the only thing she missed.
If Rune was being honest, she missed her home.
Home.
The word seared her.
Back in the ballroom, Soren’s friend had asked if she missed the New Republic, and Rune had laughed the question off.
But the truth?
The truth was Rune missed the sight of Nan’s gardens, sparkling with dew. She missed riding Lady through the wildest parts of Wintersea. She missed the smell of the sea and the woods and the fields. She missed the winds and storms.
She liked Umbria and its capital, Caelis. She liked the architecture and the art, the culture and fashions and food, the absence of anti-witch sentiment. She liked it for a visit or a holiday. But it wasn’t where she belonged.
Rune hadn’t realized she’d feel this way when she agreed to marry Alex and leave the New Republic. She didn’t know that in leaving the island behind, she was leaving her heart with it.
Could you miss the place where everyone wanted you dead?
Rune squeezed the whiskey bottle’s neck.Apparently yes.
If there weren’t a dozen guards watching her flee, Rune would have guzzled whiskey straight from the bottle. The three glasses of champagne had numbed her a little, warming her insides and blurring the edges of her vision. It was how she got through most evenings now: in a fog of intoxication.
But if she were going to get throughthisevening, she’d need more than three glasses of alcohol. She’d need an entire bathtub full.
As Alex’s song built, growing louder, as its melancholic sound sank into her bones, Rune hiked up her dress and ran, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure Soren wasn’t following.
Soren. Her fiancé.
Rune shivered, her skin still numb in all the places he’d touched her.
Later tonight, when the recital is over and the guests are gone, I have something special planned for you.
A cold sweat broke out over her skin.
Why did I say that?
Rune had nothing planned. She’d simply needed to flee.
The thought of going to him later,alone, made her gut twist. She would rather walk into the sea, her pockets full of heavy stones.
Make him want you.
It was the directive Cressida had given Rune when they first came to Umbria: to make herself irresistible to Soren Nord, an Umbrian prince.
It was what Rune was good at, after all.
Enticing men.
Soren possessed a fleet of warships. As a former admiral in the navy, he was well traveled and had a penchant for collecting beautiful, exotic things. Best of all, though: he was sympathetic to witches and rumored to be on the hunt for a wife.
So after the opera one night, while Cressida watched from the wings, Rune waited for the prince to exit his box and planted herself directly in his path. He’d walked straight into her, spilling wine down the front of her very expensive dress.
The prince was horrified at his clumsiness. And Rune was so gracious and forgiving. To make it up to her, he invited her to the ballet the next night. And the theater two nights after that. Suddenly, they were spending every day together. Going on strolls or carriage rides. Dining alone.
He was smitten, and Rune stoked his affection, playing her part perfectly, until she had what Cressida wanted: a proposal.
But to Soren’s surprise, Rune turned him down.
