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He frowned at her, his hands moving to her hips. “What?”
“Why …why risk your life for me?”
Gideon sat up so they were eye to eye. “Did you think I’d let you be burned alive?”
“Maybe? I don’t know! What am I supposed to think?” She was still sitting on top of him, her dress hiked to her thighs. “I didn’t hear from you for three days. You didn’t even send flowers!”
Flowers?
What is she talking about?
Gideon stared up at her ash-streaked face. “Do you …want flowers?”
“What?” Rune fell off him, trying to untangle herself from his jacket. “No.Never mind.”
Clearly she was in shock.
Before he could make sense of it, the smell of burning wood filled the air. They both looked to find that unearthly fire eating through the doors. As if it were ravenous, and only Rune would satiate.
As guards and palace staff arrived with buckets of water to put out the flames, Gideon scrambled to his feet. He pulled the remnants of his coat—which was all but singed to ash—off of Rune. Knowing water wouldn’t put out this fire, Gideon grabbed her hand and tugged her away from the door.
They kept running.
Remembering the days he’d lived in this palace, Gideon led her through the servants’ quarters and the kitchens. The cooking staff froze, gaping at the Blood Guard captain and the disheveled aristocrat rushing through their workspace.
He took Rune out through the back door used for deliveries. Not long after it swung shut behind them, and they were safe—at least for the moment—Rune pulled her hand from Gideon’s and fell against the stone wall, her breath coming in quick gasps. She bent over, pressing her hands to her knees.
Gideon kept his eye on the kitchen door, half expecting it to catch fire, too.
It was quiet out here, and they were alone. The full moon rose overhead, moving in and out of the clouds.
“What the hellwasthat?”
“A spell,” said Rune.
“I know it was a spell. Why was it targetingyou?”
“I don’t know.I don’t know.” Rune slid down the wall to sit in the alley dirt. Black soot from the smoke smudged her face. “But if you had seen the look in Seraphine’s eyes …she wanted me dead, Gideon.”
“You think it was her?”
Gideon might not be a witch, but he’d spent the better part of two years in the constant presence of one. For Seraphine to cast such a powerful spell, she’d need a lot of blood and, more importantly, the use of her hands—which were encased in iron.
“It’s not possible.”
The back door to the kitchen swung open, and Gideon immediately reached for the pistol holstered at his hip. But it was only a wide-eyed child. Belonging to one of the kitchen staff, probably. The young girl held a glass of water in her hands and, after shooting a fearful look at Gideon, crouched down to give it to Rune.
“The spellfire’s gone, Miss Winters.”
After taking the glass with trembling fingers, Rune touched the girl’s cheek—a gesture that, for some reason, made Gideon’s chest tighten. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Gideon watched her gulp down the water, trying to make sense of it all.
A witch had tried to kill her tonight.
Witches didn’t kill other witches.
Therefore, Rune couldn’t be a witch.
