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The fool.
“Everything iswonderful,” she said, rallying. “I just love the opera, don’t you?”
The stage lights flared, illuminating the satin gowns and colorful sequins of the actors positioned onstage. Illuminating Gideon, who watched her in the darkness.
“It’s all sopretty,” she continued, spinning the image of herself that she wanted him to see. “The costumes and the sets and the singing …” She flashed him the brightest smile she could manage. “Though the stories could be shorter. A lot shorter, don’t you agree? I find them a little, well, boring, you know? And so hard to follow! By the time they’re over, I’m always a little confused.”
She laughed to solidify the part she was playing. But deep down, her soul wilted.
Before Nan died, they attended the opera every Saturday. It was Rune’s favorite day of the week. Nan did Rune’s makeup and hair and let her borrow whatever jewelry she liked. Rune loved waltzing up the steps to the foyer in a frothy new skirt, loved being included in the conversations with her grandmother’s sophisticated friends, loved being transported to a different world inside the auditorium. But she loved theafterwardbest, when, on the way home, she and Nan fell into heated discussions about the stories that had played out across the stage.
That was before the Red Peace outlawed the old operas. The travesties that played here now were all preapproved by the Ministry of Public Safety. They weren’t stories—not good ones, anyway. They were thinly veiled lessons about how to behave under the new regime. Reminders of who the enemy was and why you should despise them. The villains were always witches or witch sympathizers; those who ratted them out or hunted them down were the heroes.
It was all so nauseatingly predictable.
Nan would have hated them.
She stole a glance at Gideon.He probably thinks they’re high art.
“Intermission is my favorite part,” Rune continued. “And the after-parties, of course.” She leaned in toward him, as if to spill a secret, and the smell of gunpowder wafted off his coat. “That’s why I’m here. To invite you to my party.”
Annoyance tugged his stern mouth into a harsh line. “I wish I had the patience for silly gossip and shallow company,” he said. “Alas, I do not.”
At the insult, a bloom of heat rushed up her neck, reminding Rune of the first time they met and the dismissive remarks he’d made. She was suddenly grateful for the darkness. Fisting her hands in the smooth silk of her dress, Rune nodded sympathetically. “I understandcompletely. Someone like you obviously prefers the company of stupid brutes with terrible style.”
He glanced at her.
Rune mentally pinched herself.What am I doing?She needed to pretend his verbal jabs went over her head, not jab him with sharper ones.Let him insult you. Remember why you’re here.
Wrestling her pride into a cage, she smiled innocently up at him.
He studied her, a bit warily. Seeming to decide he’d misheard her, he returned his attention to the opera.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Clearly Gideon considered her not only worthy of insulting, but too stupid to realize she’d even been insulted. Ordinarily, she would use this to her advantage. But as he turned away, crossing his arms and staring hard at the stage, she realized he was closing himself off from her, not opening himself up.
Her presence was vexing him. Like it had the first day they met.
He hates parties,Alex had warned her. But it was the bestmove in Rune’s playbook. The most effective way to lower a man’s defenses was to ply him with her enchanted wine, get him alone, and flirt until the spell loosened his tongue enough to spill the secrets she needed.
Rune tapped her knee with her fingertips, trying to think.
She’d seen the way Gideon lit up at the sight of his brother. Rune had ceased to exist the moment Alex stepped out of that alcove. The Sharpe brothers might be opposites who disagreed on everything important, but something nameless and deep bound the two boys to each other. It wasn’t the first time Rune had seen it.
“Alex would love it if you came.”
Gideon tensed beside her. “You must not know my brother well if you think my presence in your home would cheer him.”
Rune frowned, trying to untangle the words. What did he mean?
“And as I said, some of us have better things to do with our time.”
Before she could try again from another angle, a shadow fell across them. Gideon looked up and shot to his feet. “Harrow. Finally. I thought I was going to have to watch this damned thing to the end.”
“It might have done you some good,” responded a feminine voice. “Isn’t that the point of art—to tame the monsters in us?”
Rune’s attention snagged on the question. It was a line from one of her favorite operas.
