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A genuine smile replaced her wavering one.
Rune had no casting scars. And if he found no scars, he had no reason to continue suspecting her.
Oozing confidence now—this was a game she knew how to play, after all—Rune undid the buttons of her fitted wool jacket and slid it off her shoulders. “Where should we do this?”
For a moment, he hesitated. As if second-guessing his plan.When Rune met his eye, silently daring him to back down, he seemed to find his resolve. With his notebook in hand, Gideon led her to the back of the shop, where a large, folded mirror displayed her reflection in three panels and a measuring block stood in the center of the space.
Thankful that she’d worn nice underwear, Rune undid the buttons of her blouse.
Gideon started to turn around. “If you need—oh.”
Rune was already undressing. His gaze dropped to her lace bralette and remained there for a beat, before quickly shooting back to her face, his cheeks burning with color.
“This okay?” said Rune, trying not to smirk.
He nodded curtly and turned away. Setting the notebook down on a shelf piled with white tulle, he took a long time opening to a blank page.
Rune unlaced her riding boots and took her time wriggling out of her trousers, relishing Gideon’s sudden bashfulness.
“Did you do this a lot, when you assisted your parents?”
As if he sensed that she now stood in nothing but her underwear, he didn’t turn to look at her. Only cleared his throat. “Do what a lot?”
“Take people’s measurements.”
“I only ever took Cressida’s measurements.” This answer seemed to sober him. He dragged the measuring tape from his shoulders and turned to confront her, keeping his eyes on her face. Not letting them lower even an inch. “Ready?”
“Yep.” Rune bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to stave off the chill in the air.
He stepped closer, bringing the lamp with him. “I’ll start at the top and work my way down.”
She knew what he meant, but the way he said it made her imagine him working his way down her in a …less verticalway. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one. Gideon froze, opened his mouth to clarify what he meant, and coughed instead.
He lowered the lamp down to the measuring block, engulfing her in its warm glow—To better see my scars,thought Rune—and started measuring.
His hands made quick work of it, telling Rune how practiced he was. She couldn’t help comparing those hands to his brother’s. Alex had the hands of a musician: wide palms, slender fingers. Elegant and beautiful as a song.
Gideon’s hands were strong and rough and calloused. Hands that could hold a gun as competently as they could haul a witch into a prison cell—or take a girl’s measurements, evidently.
He never fumbled or brushed her skin. As if he were trying very hard not to touch her more than necessary.
To distract them both while he measured her bust, Rune said, “I wish Alex had told me you were an accomplished tailor. If your finished garments look anything like your sketches, I would have employed you years ago.”
“Cress would never have let me work for you.”
The way he said the young queen’s name—Cress, not Cressida—made Rune feel funny.
“She wouldn’t have let metalkto you.” Gideon retreated to write the number in his notebook. “I did serve you and your friends tea once, though you didn’t notice me.” He returned to Rune, looping the tape around the smallest part of her waist this time. “It was at Thornwood Hall, during one of Cress’s parties.”
Unable to recall it, she glanced up to find Gideon’s face mere inches from hers, his attention fixed on the measuring tape. “If you were her tailor, why were you serving tea at her party?”
The tape went slack, but he didn’t move on to the next measurement.
“I was living at Thornwood Hall by then. Cress moved me there from the palace to …better fulfill her needs. The night of that party, I was being punished.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “For neglecting my duties.”
Rune frowned harder, about to ask him what he meant, when he cut her off.
“Hips are next.”
