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What are we to each other now?
And what would Cressida expect from Rune when they landed on the Continent?
This whole time, Rune had been unwittingly saving witches for Cressida’s army. And now that they knew the heir to the Roseblood line was alive, more witches were flocking to her. Rune’s cargo ship was sailing to Caelis, where the witch queen would bolster her army and prepare to take back what was stolen from them all—ushering in a new Reign of Witches.
Rune was no fan of the New Republic, where her life was now forfeit. But neither did she want to return to what had come before the regime. She knew what Cressida was capable of and had no interest in swapping one evil for another.
But she had nowhere else to go. She couldn’t return home, where the Blood Guard waited to kill her. And with Alex gone, there was nothing waiting for her ahead.
Someone cleared their throat beside Rune, yanking her out of her thoughts. She turned away from the porthole and found Seraphine, her thin hands cupped around a mug of steaming tea.
“If you can tear a city in half,” said Seraphine, “she’ll want to know what else you’re capable of. In case you can be of use to her.”
Rune recoiled at the thought. “I have no intention of being useful to her.”
Seraphine shot her a look. “It’s better to be useful than to be dead.”
Rune considered the young woman beside her, sipping her tea. Peeking up from Seraphine’s lace collar was the hint of a silver casting scar carved into her umber skin. But Rune couldn’t make out the pattern. Feathers, maybe.
A bird?
Nan’s voice suddenly appeared in Rune’s mind:Promise me you’ll find Seraphine Oakes, my darling.
Rune had been so busy trying to accomplish the first part of Nan’s request, she’d never given thought to the second.
She’ll tell you everything I couldn’t.
“She wanted you to train me,” said Rune. If she had any hope of surviving what came next, she would need as much help as she could get.
“Who?”
“My grandmother.”
Seraphine’s thin brows shot toward her forehead. “Did she, now?”
“I think it’s why she asked me to find you. I think, somehow, she knew I was a witch.”
Beside her, Seraphine’s chest rose and fell with a sigh as she lowered her mug.
“You have a lot of catching up to do,” she said, looking Rune up and down.
Rune was about to say she wasn’t afraid to work hard, that she was determined to learn as much as she could, when Cressida glanced up, catching her gaze.
A chill dug into the base of her spine.
There was something insatiable in the witch queen’s expression.It was the look of a predator. Someone capable of killing innocent Verity de Wilde and subsuming her identity so perfectly, no one noticed. Someone capable of ensnaring brave Gideon Sharpe, then breaking his spirit into a million fractured pieces.
Gideon.
Rune had been desperately trying not to think of him.
She tore her gaze away from Cressida, unable to deny the Gideon-shaped hole in her chest—like a bullet wound.
He walked in her dreams every night. Those dark eyes filling with hate, penetrating straight to her heart. His stern mouth cursing her name, swearing to hunt her down. When she woke, her cheeks were wet from weeping in her sleep. Crying out for him and the life—thepartnership—she’d been deluded into thinking he wanted with her.
Rune had to remind herself, every time, that they were mortal enemies. That their hatred for each other was what wove them together—not love or affection. Andthiswas why it felt so wrong to have an ocean between them: the Blood Guard captain had been hunting the Crimson Moth for so long, she felt lost without him trailing her.
Gideon was her perfect rival; a deadly enemy to outwit. Without him, Rune could only be half of her full potential. It was why, deep down, shewantedhim to come for her. She ached for the challenge of him. She needed to finish what lay unfinished between them.
Turning back to the porthole, Rune stared out at the cold sea. She didn’t know what lay on the horizon; the future was shrouded in mist.
Only one thing was certain.
Gideon would come for her, and when he did, Rune would be ready.
