“My apartment,” said Gideon, turning onto the street and heading toward Old Town.
Rune stared at his back, feeling like she might burst into tears.
But what choice did she have?
THE LAST TIME SHEwas inside this tenement building, Gideon handed her over to the Blood Guard.
The time before that, she gave herself to him, body and soul, when they made love in his bed.
When she stepped through the door, flashes of memory hit like a gale-force wind—his mouth grazing her thigh, his cold voice ordering his soldiers to arrest her.
A war of emotions raged within her. She felt dizzy with them all.
Though she’d been to his parents’ tailor shop downstairs a few times, she’d only been to his apartment once—on the night she spent in his bed. It had been dark then, with only the moon shining through the windows to illuminate things.
Now, daylight laid everything bare.
The main room was sparsely furnished. On one side stood a small kitchen with a woodstove; on the other, a sitting area with a sofa and shelves. The sofa was worn, but not threadbare. The floorboards beneath her feet were warped and scuffed, yet sturdy. And she even spotted books on the shelves.
As she made her way over to read their titles, a wooden figurine no bigger than her palm grabbed Rune’s attention. Someone had carved the pale wood into the shape of a deer. Its smooth curves called to Rune, and she picked it up.
“It was Tessa’s,” said Gideon, shutting the door behind them. “My father made it for her.”
Rune knew almost nothing about Alex and Gideon’s little sister, except that she’d died young. Killed by Cressida.
Rune ran her fingers over the deer, which exuded a kind of warmth despite being made of nothing but wood.
Nan had bought Rune dozens of toys as a child. Too many, probably. But no one had evermadeRune a toy. She found fragments of Levi Sharpe in the chiseled surface, where the man had skillfully shaved away wood to expose the form beneath. He’d left his marks; something to say he’d been here, that he loved his daughter.
Realizing her knuckles were turning white, Rune loosened her grip on the deer.
“I’m going to shower,” Gideon said from behind her. “And then I need to report to the Commander. Are you hungry? I don’t have much food, just some apples and hardtack under the sink. But there’s a day market a few streets over where you can buy food to cook.”
Cook?
Her?
Rune lowered the deer and stared at Gideon.
“Right.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck, glancing at the ceiling. “You don’t know how to cook.”
“I have servants for that,” said Rune, defensive.
Or rather, she’dhadservants for that. Now she had nothing.
He sighed. “Never mind. I don’t want you burning the building down. Wait until I get back, and I’ll make us dinner.”
Rune watched him disappear down the hall. Who’d taught him to cook? His mother? His father?
She glanced down to the deer figurine in her hand, wondering what that would be like: Having a mother and father. Being taught to cook.
Rune wouldn’t have traded Nan for anything in the world,but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. What was it like, growing up in a family like Gideon’s? Parents. Siblings. A house full of people, teeming with life. The loneliness nipping at her heels for years suddenly caught up, sinking its teeth into Rune.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The pounding scattered her thoughts.
Rune went to the window and glanced out.
