She swallowed.
With less than three inches of space between them, his heat curled toward her. His familiar smell infused the air. Every nerve in her body sparked at his proximity.
Rune clung to her side of the bed.
He loathes you.
“That kiss…”
The memory flashed in her mind: his hands in her hair, his mouth against hers, the heat of his body pressing her to the wall.
“Please,” she whispered. “Let’s forget it ever happened.”
Gideon drew in a breath. He was silent for a long moment.
“If that’s what you want,” he finally said.
“It is.”
Silence descended again. Soon, the sound of his breathing came slow and even.
How was she supposed to sleep with him lying right next to her? When all she could think about was his plot against her, and how he and Abbie would celebrate together when the Crimson Moth finally got what she deserved?
Several hours later she gave up trying.
Quietly, she got dressed and left Gideon behind, escaping for a walk along the upper deck’s promenade, trying to clear her head. The sun peeked up from the horizon, turning the sky pink and silhouetting the island in the distance.
When the Sister Queens ruled, the island country had been calledCascadia. Rune remembered the old map that once hung in Wintersea House,CASCADIAprinted in bold letters at the top, greeting visitors when they arrived.
But once Nicolas Creed, the late Good Commander, rose to power, he renamed it. The maps now read:The Republic ofthe Red Peace. Everything bearing the former name was considered contraband and destroyed in the revolution. Even the coins, which bore the old name, were melted down and recast into new ones.
Rune had kept Nan’s old map as an act of rebellion and hid it away in the cellars of Wintersea.
“Did you miss it?”
Rune straightened, her body recognizing a predator.
But there was no threat in his words. A few seconds later, Gideon stepped up next to her, dressed in Soren’s shirt and pants, the seams nearly bursting as they tried to contain his muscled form. He leaned over the railing, staring toward the island ahead.
From the dark smudges under his eyes, he looked like he’d gotten about as much sleep as she had.
Rune stared at him for a long moment, letting her eyes trace over the planes of his face before tearing her gaze away and looking toward their home.
“Yes,” she whispered. “With my whole heart.”
PART
TWO
We witches were given a precious gift, and with that gift comes a sacred task. The Ancients bestowed magic on us for one purpose: to use for the good, the true, and the beautiful.
My cousin intends to twist this purpose with vicious lies. I feel them spreading through my court like poison, a little more every day, infecting even my closest advisors.
I fear I can no longer stop her. The worst is imminent.
Tonight, I will go to the stones and ask for Wisdom’s help.
—FROM THE DIARY OF QUEEN ALTHEA THE GOOD
