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“My brother?” she whispered, her eyes downcast.
“That depends on you,” Gideon replied, “and on how nice you are to me.”
She looked up at him, her mouth tight. She wasn’t an idiot, or pretending to be so virtuous she didn’t understand what Gideon meant, which was good for her. If she’d tried to play the shy violet after climbing in his bedroom window, he’d have hung her alongside her wretched brother just for wasting his time.
The girl swallowed. “Then you’ll let him go? He’s not a scientist or a rebel. Really.”
Gideon was surprised she had the nerve to ask him for a promise. He wondered how old she was. Thirteen? Maybe fourteen. Some of those Outland girls had smart mouths and seemed older than they were. After a lifetime of being passed over by the high-and-mighty Salem Witch herself, Gideon did not find female spunk endearing.
“Ask me again and he’ll hang for sure,” Gideon said, watching a choking hatred rise up in her throat. Good. Now she knew where she stood. He smiled at her. “Get out, drub. For now.”
She wasn’t crying, which could be a problem. If he hadn’t broken her spirits completely, she could come back demanding something. If she wanted her brother to live, she’d have to learn patience. And manners. Gideon decided it might be fun to teach her both.
While the girl scurried out the window, Gideon put on a robe and crossed through his suite to the main entrance. He opened the door and led Carrick, his Outlander spy, into the sitting area. He marveled, as he always did, at how drubs seemed to walk without stirring the air. A necessary ability, Gideon assumed, for those stuck down precarious mine shafts all day and surrounded by roving bands of Woven all night. It made them good fighters. That, coupled with the constant near starvation of their poverty-stricken lives, gave them a survivor’s mastery of all the herbs and animals of the forest. Strength and knowledge of herb lore—those were two of the reasons Rowan had been chosen to be Lillian’s head mechanic, rather than Gideon himself.
An Outlander, a drub no better than that piece of rubbish he’d just kicked out of his room, was head mechanic to the Salem Witch. Or he had been until she sent him away.
“Set the wards,” Carrick whispered.
Gideon shook off the all-consuming swell of irritation that always accompanied any thought of Rowan and concentrated so that he could cast a ward spell around the room to be neither heard nor felt by anyone else inside the Citadel. A pulse of silvery blue light throbbed around the room as Gideon’s ward formed a bubble of protection around them.
“The room is sealed,” Gideon said, moving his hand away from his willstone. “Speak freely.”
“Minutes ago, I saw Lady Juliet leave the Citadel,” Carrick responded, the words bursting out of him urgently. “She seemed distraught—frantic, even. I sent a team of guards to shadow her, of course.”
“Why so many? Where was she going?” Gideon replied, already on his way to the clothespress to dress.
“The forest.” Carrick sounded pleased. “She left the city and went into the Outland.”
Gideon stopped momentarily. First Lillian was found wandering around the Citadel, half crazed, and now dependable Juliet was behaving like she’d abandoned all sense. What was going on? Gideon needed Juliet alive—at least, for a little while—to get children out of her. “Did she have her bodyguard with her? A weapon?”
“She stole out the southwest gate with nothing but a cape and a small handbag. I have horses ready,” Carrick said, his wiry shoulders already tilted toward the door.
“Horses,” Gideon said resignedly.
Gideon hated riding the damn things, and growing up in the city like a civilized person he’d rarely had reason to. He much preferred his luxury elepod, or even one of the trains that connected the Thirteen Cities underground, but unfortunately electric vehicles were nearly useless in the woods, and the whole idea of above-ground trains had been abandoned when the Woven were accidentally brought into being. Horses it was, then.
“I have a tracking ward set to the guard captain’s willstone,” Carrick said, his own willstone flaring slightly with the touch of its master’s mind. He raised his eyes and met Gideon’s. “We have to hurry. Juliet is going deep into the Woven Woods.”
Gideon finished pulling on a pair of pretty but stiff riding boots and turned to Carrick. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Lily felt a hand shaking her awake. She would have jumped at the touch, but she smelled a scent that was as familiar to her as her own.
“Juliet?” Lily called plaintively into the dark.
“Shh. Yes, it’s me,” Juliet replied. She was half in, half out of the tent. Lily sat up and saw that her sister—or, rather, her sister’s longhaired other self—had lifted up the backside of the tent and scooted only part of the way inside. Her luminous eyes were wide and wild. “What happened? Are you injured?”
“No. Well, I was, but not anymore,” Lily replied, still struggling to kick-start her exhausted mind.
“You’re healed?” Juliet asked, her face frozen.
“Yeah.” Lily tried to tug Juliet into the tent with her, but Juliet resisted.
“Come on,” Juliet whispered angrily, tugging back at Lily to draw her out. “We need to go! Anyone could walk by.”
Lily crawled out of the tent wondering if she could trust this woman. She looked like Juliet, but that didn’t mean that she was Juliet. Every instinct in Lily screamed that Juliet would always be on her side, no matter what universe they were in, but Lily didn’t know if she could trust herself anymore. After all, it had been another version of herself that had kidnapped her to begin with.
