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Alex was appropriately social, for one thing. He had friends whom he invited over, and whose invitations he accepted. He knew how to hold polite conversations with all sorts of people. He never growled or glared or got into fights …except for that one time he punched Gideon in the ring—but that had been Gideon’s fault.
Alex dressed and danced well. He used the correct utensil for each course of a meal, served the kinds of wines that impressed his guests, and knew the meaning of devotion. Even upon dropping out of school—something Gideon wished he’d fought harder to prevent—Alex had never stopped practicing his music.
After the revolution, it was Alex who stayed by Gideon for weeks, helping him fight off his laudanum addiction. Alex didn’t leave Gideon’s side until he no longer shook with the cravings.
Gideon didn’t know what he would do without his little brother.
If Rune Winters was truly in the market for a husband, she could do no better than Alexander Sharpe.
That thought put a sour taste in his mouth.
Before swallowing it down, he let himself wonder:What if Alex weren’t in love with her? Would I stop pretending, and court her in truth?
For a second, he let himself imagine it. He’d have to attend her parties. Learn how to dance to her songs. Spend less time in Old Town, and more time at Wintersea.
He could do that. Those were small prices to pay for the luxury of going on long walks in the woods with her. Or the privilege of arguing with her. Or the rare gift of seeing that wild girl she kept hidden beneath the surface.
It doesn’t matter.His knuckles bunched.Because it will only ever be pretend—or not at all.
“Gideon?” Bart slid three copper coins toward the center of the table. “You in?”
Torn out of his fantasy, Gideon nodded.
“I’m in.” He pulled a money pouch from the pocket of his coat, grabbed three copper coins, and threw them into the center of the table.
As Alex dealt the cards, Gideon noticed a pale line of untanned skin at the base of his smallest finger, where a ring usually rested.
Our mother’s ring,he remembered. Gideon had given it to Alex after their parents’ funeral.
Something Harrow had said flashed in his mind.
An hour before it set sail, there was last-minute cargo brought on board: two barrels of wine delivered by an aristo.
The man had worn a ring on his smallest finger.
Plain and thin. Silver, maybe. A poor man’s wedding band.
Gideon watched the cards move around the table, dealt by his brother’s hand. Trying to remember what their mother’s ring looked like.
He immediately caught himself.
Alex, abetting a criminal witch? After witches tore our family apart?
It was unthinkable. Alex wasn’t capable of subterfuge. He knew how badly Gideon wanted to catch the Crimson Moth.
Alex would never sabotage me.
“Gideon? It’s your turn.”
He looked to find Noah nodding to the cards facedown beneath Gideon’s hands. When he glanced around the table, he found everyone waiting for him.
Gideon quickly picked out a straight and threw it down.
“You sent a tidal wave through the entire aristocracy the other week,” said Noah, putting down a flush and beating out Gideon.
“Did I? When?”
“When you showed up at Rune Winters’ after-party.”
