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What other kinds of cruelty had Harrow suffered at the hands of witches? And how could she not know—or care—if her former mistress was dead or alive?
But Harrow clearly didn’t want to discuss it further, because she changed the subject.
“You were talking about your plan to entrap Rune Winters. The one that doesn’t involve getting her naked. How is that going to work?”
Their footsteps echoed in unison as they climbed to the second floor, where Gideon’s office lay.
“I gave Rune bad information this morning.”
Harrow glanced over at him. “Oh?”
“I told her the location of a holding cell for witches near Seldom Harbor.”
“And that’s bad?”
“There’s no holding cell near Seldom Harbor. Just a trap waiting for the Crimson Moth.”
Harrow’s golden eyes widened. As this sank in, she smiled, impressed.
“And you think Rune will show up there.”
“I don’t know. If she does, I’ll have my fugitive. But even if someone else shows up instead, I’ll know Rune is in league with the Moth—since she’s the only person I gave the location to.”
“And if no one shows up?”
Gideon sighed. “Then I abandon this false trail, break things off with Rune …”
And hope my little brother finds his balls.
TWENTY-TWORUNE
THE OLD MINE NEARSeldom Harbor stood on a small clifftop a hundred meters above sea level, sagging beneath the weight of a century.
Rune came prepared with an invisibility spell already drawn on her forearm in blood. She called itGhost Walker,and it was her most-used spell on nights like this, one she’d created herself using a combination of two symbols she’d found in one of Nan’s books. The symbols foremptinessandevasion.It didn’t make her disappear so much as nudge a person’s attention away from her.
She dismounted Lady a quarter mile up the dirt road. Leaving the horse to graze in a small copse of trees, Rune headed toward the mine, which was silhouetted by the light of a silver moon.
The wind and sea salt stung Rune’s eyes—the only part of her face left uncovered. Dressed entirely in black, she’d hidden her hair beneath a hood, and covered her mouth and nose with a snug cowl. A fitted black shirt and leggings concealed the rest of her, along with calf-high leather boots.
The lantern hanging in the entryway swung in the gusty wind, scattering its light across the Blood Guard standing sentry. As Rune drew nearer to the stone building, she saw that the guard on duty was none other than Laila Creed.
With her spell cloaking her, Rune pulled out a slender silver whistle no wider than a fountain pen from the hidden pocket in her clothes. The same pocket contained her last full vial of blood.
Drawing closer to Laila, she put the cold metal to her lips and blew three short, hard notes. The notes were too high-pitched for Laila’s ears, but Lady heard them immediately.
Lady had once been Nan’s favorite show horse. Nan trained her to respond to different whistled commands, and her obedience had won them dozens of ribbons over the years.
In the darkness, sounding closer than she was, Lady whinnied.
Hearing it, Laila grabbed the pistol at her hip, eyes narrowing. Her gaze bounced off the space where Rune stood and turned toward the sound.
That’s right,thought Rune.Go check. Better to be safe.
Glancing back to the mine’s entryway—a sun-bleached door speckled with lichen—Laila strode hesitantly into the dark.
Rune opened the door and stepped inside.
The entrance to the mine was a small room with wood-paneled walls and two small windows—one of which was broken. The old floorboards shifted beneath her footsteps, and in the center of the floor was a hole big enough for two burly men to drop into. A ladder protruded out of it.
