Gideon ignored the intense dislike radiating at him from across the desk and forged ahead. “Rune is hunting for this Roseblood heir. Once she finds them, she intends to smuggle them back to the Continent. My plan is twofold. First: we ambush them. I’ll learn when and where Rune is planning to launch her escape and ensure the Blood Guard are lying in wait.
“Second: once we have them surrounded, we execute theRoseblood heir and arrest Rune, who we use to negotiate with Soren. All the prince has to do if he wants his precious bride back is cooperate with us. And all we’ll require of him is this: once we prove to him that we have Rune in custody, he must order his soldiers to turn on an unsuspecting Cressida, killing her and every witch in her army. If he doesn’t comply, Rune dies. If hedoescomply, we return Rune to him, unharmed.”
Gideon glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of every official and soldier, one after another.
“We will prevent a war we’re not sure we can win,andwe’ll rid ourselves of Cressida, along with any possibility of resurrecting her or her sisters.”
The room fell quiet.
“And if you fail to deliver?”
Gideon turned to Noah.
“If I fail, we’ll go to war and lose.” He glanced at Harrow. “If I fail, Cressida will not only reclaim her throne, but resurrect Elowyn and Analise and usher in a new Reign of Witches—”
Gideon broke off as palace guards escorted a shackled young woman into the room. Iron cylinders encased her hands, preventing her from casting spells, and her copper hair hung in greasy strings down her back.
The woman was Aurelia Kantor: a witch they’d been using to track down others of her kind. As a sibyl, Aurelia saw into the past, present, and future. This Sight allowed her to know the exact locations of every witch on the island—which the Blood Guard had been forcing her to tell them, one by one.
“I want to see my daughter.” Aurelia’s voice scratched, as if she’d gone too many days without water. “It’s been two weeks. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”
The daughter in question was a two-year-old child in thecare of a guardian halfway across town. Her name was Meadow. Kept under lock and key, Meadow was the only thing securing Aurelia’s obedience.
“Ask her,” said Gideon. “Let her verify everything I’ve said.”
The sibyl’s head turned, hawklike, to face Gideon. Her emerald eyes thinned as she took in his restraints, a question in them.
“Is Cressida Roseblood planning to resurrect her sisters?” said Noah.
Her eyes shuttered and she looked away, pressing her thin lips together.
“Is it possible?” he asked.
Still she didn’t answer. Gideon was preparing to barter with her. Better rations, increased visits with her daughter—these things usually worked. But before he could, Noah spoke from behind his desk.
“Bring in the child.”
Gideon hadn’t seen the kid since the two were captured together. The unspoken threat to Meadow’s safety had always been enough to make the sibyl comply.
A soldier brought the toddler into the room and set her down on an armchair that dwarfed her tiny frame. It was clear she’d been taken far better care of than her mother. White ribbons tied her wispy red hair into pigtails, and the clean dress she wore looked more expensive than anything in Gideon’s closet.
But her eyes were wide and terrified.
“Mumma?” Her chin trembled at the sight of her mother, in chains and kneeling on the floor several paces away. The girl held out her tiny hands to Aurelia, whispering: “Mumma, Mumma. I want to go home.”
Gideon watched the witch struggle to control the emotion inher voice as the tears ran down her daughter’s cheeks. “I know, baby. Soon. We’ll go home soon.”
It was a lie. Aurelia knew perfectly well that neither she nor her child was ever going home.
Noah rose from his chair. “Is Cressida Roseblood planning to raise her sisters from the dead?”
“I don’t know,” said Aurelia.
“Bring the child here,” said Noah. “And hold its hand down on the desk.”
What?
Gideon spun to watch Noah lift his dead father’s sword down from the wall. A dark dread coiled in his stomach.
