She was trapped.

A knock on the door made her jump.

“Rune?” Alex called from the other side of the wood. “Everything all right? You’ve been gone for almost an hour.”

Alex, help! she wanted to say.

But that would require admitting the truth. And if she did, he’d report her. He might be her oldest friend, but he’d also murdered a witch queen and been rewarded for it.

Rune’s wet clothes slipped from her hands, landing on the floor with a splat.

“Rune?” Alex repeated.

“I’m n-not feeling well,” she managed.

The handle turned. But when Alex pushed, the lock held it shut.

She stepped back, fear zipping down her spine.

“Rune, let me in.”

“I’d really rather not,” she whispered.

“You’re scaring me,” he said. “I have the key, Rune. I can open the door myself, but I’d prefer that you do it.”

Knowing she couldn’t stay in here forever, knowing she had no other choice—if she was a witch, Alex was going to find out, one way or another—Rune grabbed one of the bath towels and wrapped it around herself. She brushed the tears from her cheeks, unlocked the door, and stepped back.

Alex opened it and the door swung in. He nearly stepped inside when the sight of her in nothing but a towel made him halt. “Why are you …?” Spots of pink appeared on his cheeks, and he seemed about to look away when he noticed her tear-streaked face—or perhaps her smudged makeup.

Finally, he entered, shutting the door behind him.

Rune backed up until her shoulders hit the wall, feeling like this was it, the end of everything—their friendship, her life. She sat down on the tiles, letting more tears fall.

“What is this really about?”

His attention snagged on her dress in a heap on the floor, then the underwear in the sink. The black stain still spreading across the fabric.

Rune saw the realization sink in.

His face fell. “Oh, Rune. No …”

He stood staring at the clothes, his hands curling into fists.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Stay here,” he said. “Don’t leave this room.”

Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out, locking her in.

He’ll report me now, she thought, lying down on the tiles, pulling her legs into her chest. She closed her eyes against the ache in her abdomen, weeping quietly, waiting for the Blood Guard to arrive.

She could open the door and make a run for it, but what would be the point? And where would she go? The Blood Guard would only hunt her down.

When the door opened, it was Alex who stepped inside, locking it again behind him. A bundle of clothes was tucked under one arm, and in his hand was a mug of steaming tea.

Rune didn’t bother sitting up.

“These are Emily’s,” he said, setting the clothes on the floor beside Rune. Emily was his cook. “This is also from her.” He set down the mug. “She says it will help ease the pain.”

She frowned, not understanding.

“I’m going to prepare a hot bath for you, all right?”

Rune pushed herself to a sitting position, watching him run the water in the tub. “Where’s the Guard?”

He cocked his head at her. “What?”

She cleared her throat. “The Blood Guard. Wh-when will they arrive?”

Alex stared at her like she’d gone mad.

“Rune. Your secret is safe here.” Letting the water run, he came back to her. Getting down on his knees, he touched her cheek. “You can sleep in the spare room tonight. And tomorrow morning, we’ll figure out what to do.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “If they find out, they’ll kill you, too.”

He smiled at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They can go right ahead.”

Rune flung her arms around him, clinging tightly. He pulled her close, holding her for a long time. It was there, in his arms, that Rune realized for the first time she could trust Alexander Sharpe with her life.

OceanofPDF.com

FOURTEEN GIDEON

WHEN GIDEON FINALLY ARRIVED back in Old Town, with his father’s wine-soaked jacket in hand, he’d gone over his evening at Wintersea House several times in his mind.

Had he made a mistake, moving so fast? He’d noticed the way Rune trembled beneath his touch and had a feeling she deliberately dumped that wine on him.

He’d come on too strong.

Gideon sighed, going over tonight’s events one more time. Rune had certainly been a little awkward, if not downright odd. First, there was the weirdness with the wine. Then, her dismay over the telegram invitation. And last, her questions about his work while she tried to seduce him.

It wasn’t enough to accuse her of anything. For that, he’d need some concrete evidence. Casting scars, for example. If she had them, he needed to find them.

And if she isn’t the Moth?

If she wasn’t, why invite him to her bedroom? Why flirt so shamelessly?

Unless she was actually interested in him.

Not possible, thought Gideon.

He trudged up the lamplit streets of Old Town, mulling everything over. It was foggy tonight, and as he approached the street leading to his tenement, the soft sound of footsteps echoed behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder, but the fog was thick as smoke.

As the sudden smell of roses bloomed in the damp air, a chill skated over his skin.

She’s dead, he told himself. You’re imagining it.

Still, thinking of the body they’d found beneath the bridge three nights ago, he increased his pace.

The footsteps quickened in response.

Gideon’s stomach knotted. He reached for the pistol holstered at his hip, only to remember he’d left it at home tonight. The opulent halls of Wintersea House were no place for a gun.

You’re a Blood Guard captain. Footsteps in the fog do not scare you.

But it wasn’t the footsteps so much as the smell.

Her smell.

He was coming upon a footpath that led into the back alley behind his tenement. It was difficult to find if you didn’t live in this neighborhood and already know it was there. As the footsteps started closing the gap between them, Gideon arrived at the opening to the path. He sidestepped onto it and pushed his back against the wood fence.

If the pursuer knew about the path and followed him down it, at least he’d have the element of surprise.

The footsteps grew louder. Closer.

Gideon tensed, ready to defend himself, when the footsteps passed him by.

He remained where he was, holding his breath. The fence behind him sagged as he leaned against it. As the footsteps receded into the distance, the pounding of his heart soon drowned out the sound.

The smell of her was gone.

Had it ever really been there, or was it all in his head?

You’re an idiot. It’s probably a lamplighter heading home for the night.

Pushing away from the wall, Gideon remained on the footpath, taking it to the back of his tenement. The door there didn’t lead to his apartment directly, but through the abandoned space below: the old tailor shop that once belonged to his parents.

Gideon boarded it up years ago and rarely had a reason to enter it. Earlier tonight, however, he’d gone inside looking for fabric and sewing needles to stitch Rune’s flower.

The shop’s interior door opened onto the stairwell leading to the apartments above. Gideon entered the shop and was halfway to the door when something made him stop.

I don’t have a dress to wear, Rune had told him. My seamstress is booked until next month.

Gideon fumbled through the dark until he found the matches he’d left near the door earlier this evening. He lit a lamp and the flame’s orange glow illuminated the room: walls lined with bolts of fabric; a large worktable for measuring, cutting, and sewing; a back room for taking customer measurements; and a front counter with a dusty old register.