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“If it was Rune, she’ll know you set a trap for her,” said Laila, using the scarlet sleeve of her coat to clear glass shards out of the pane. “She’ll know we’re coming for her. I’d be on the first ship off the island if I were her.”
It was a desperate move. And though it was undoubtedly what any criminal should do if they wanted to escape him, the Crimson Moth didn’t strike Gideon as someone who made desperate moves.
There’s a masked ball at the Creeds’ tonight,Rune had told him that morning.You could meet me there.
When the window was free of glass, Laila pulled herself through and out the other side. “We should ride for the docks.”
“I have a better idea.” Gideon winced as he limped to the window, trying not to put weight on his wounded leg. “You head back to headquarters, assemble a hunting party, then go to the docks and make sure no ship leaves port tonight.”
From outside, Laila frowned at him. The lantern hanging above her head illuminated her face. “You’re not coming?”
“I’m going to your parents’ ball.”
Laila frowned harder.
“Rune invited me,” he explained. “If she wasn’t here tonight and the Moth is someone else, Rune won’t yet know this was a trap. She’ll be at Oakhaven Park.”
Grabbing hold of the windowsill, he glanced out at the moth still fluttering over the door.
“And if she is there?” Laila asked, stepping away from the window.
Gideon pulled himself through with a grimace. “I’ll arrest her for treason.”
TWENTY-FIVERUNE
THE GROUNDS OF OAKHAVENPark backed onto a forest that spanned hundreds of acres. The home itself was modest compared to Wintersea House and had belonged to Seraphine Oakes before the queen sent her into exile.
Once a close friend to the Rosebloods, Seraphine fell out of favor with the previous queen—the mother of Elowyn, Analise, and Cressida. Nan never spoke of it, because it distressed her, but some believed that Seraphine’s power surpassed the royal family’s. So out of fear, or jealousy, or both, the witch queen banished her.
Oakhaven Park sat empty until the revolution, when the Good Commander gave it to his wife, Octavia Creed, as a spoil of war.
Some couples keep separate bedrooms,Alex joked once,others keep separate estates.
Though the wind had turned her clothes from sopping wet to damp, Rune still shivered as she rode Lady as far as she dared into the woods surrounding the property. Octavia kept a patrol, Rune knew, and she had no desire to run into it. Once she was inside the forest, shrouded by jack pines and balsam firs, her icy, trembling fingers unbuckled the saddlebag concealing her evening outfit.
Rune was happy to strip the damp clothes off her body. Standing naked in the breeze but for the sheathed knife strapped to her thigh, she tightly braided her wind-dried hair into an effortless style she’d watched Nan employ whenever they were running late to some function. It was still a little damp, but not obviouslywet.
Next, she inspected the gash from Laila’s shot, which was still bleeding. Rune had been lucky. If Laila’s shot had been an inch closer, she’d have a bullet in her arm that would require digging out.
This was a flesh wound: bloody, but not deep. She withdrew one of the cotton strips she kept in Lady’s saddlebag for emergencies, bound it around the wound, and tucked the ends underneath. Thankful she’d had the foresight to bring gloves, Rune pulled them on, concealing the bandage, and donned her dress and shoes.
Last, she put on her mask for the evening: a white fox face with pointed ears.
Fully dressed, Rune opened one more saddlebag and pulled out four sheets of tracing paper and a fountain pen. After folding the sheets and rolling them tightly around the pen, she tucked them down the front of her bodice.
Taking her whistle out for the third time tonight, she blew two long notes into the thin metal cylinder, telling Lady to go straight home. The moment the horse trotted away, Rune followed the footpath through the trees, allowing the house lights in the distance to guide her.
Normally, it would be exactly Rune’s style to arrive fashionably late, waltzing in through the front doors and announcing herself to everyone. Tonight, though, she didn’t want people to notice her delayed arrival. She wanted people to think she’d been here the whole time.
Drawing nearer to the house, Rune contemplated going in through the kitchens, pretending to have gotten lost, but that would only make the servants talk. As she drew nearer still, she eyed the windows. They were close enough to the ground for her to open and climb through without soiling her dress. She’d decided on going in through the windows when voices nearby caught her attention.
“All that’s left to do is sell Thornwood Hall.”
Alex?Rune was so relieved by the sound of his familiar timbre, she almost missed the words he had spoken.
Sell Thornwood Hall?
She tucked her questions away for later. Adjusting her mask, she donned a more tedious costume, one that was second nature by now: the guise of a superficial girl who cared only for designer dresses, extravagant parties, and juicy gossip. Rune stepped out of the woods, heading toward the ring of young men circling a fire that blazed in an ornate iron fire pit.
