“No preference, then?”

Rune kept her mouth clamped shut, still thinking. She knew the pool of water was directly behind them, and the tunnel directly ahead.

“Suit yourself …”

The moment she felt his grip loosen slightly, Rune planted her feet, bent her knees, and pushed backward with all her might. She heard a huff of surprise. Felt his weight shift as he lost his balance. He staggered back.

Rune had hoped he’d throw his arms wide in his struggle to regain his balance.

Instead, he dragged her down with him.

They fell into the water together.

But Rune was ready for the icy shock. The moment the water closed over her head and Gideon let go, Rune pushed away from him. Her hands patted the walls of the pool until she found the ladder. Grabbing the rungs, she heaved herself out.

Gideon cursed from behind her. She heard the water splash as he swam for the sides of the pool. In seconds, he’d be on her again.

Using the walls to guide her, she ran through the dark tunnel, taking it to the first floor. Far behind her, she heard Gideon’s loud swearing.

Back on the first level, she dashed for the mine’s entrance, following the lamplight. Swinging herself onto the last ladder, she scaled the rungs, climbing upward. She paused at the top, listening for Laila, and heard the girl’s footsteps pacing the ground outside, beyond the door in the room above.

Pulling herself into the small room, Rune approached the broken window and peered out. Beneath the swinging lantern out front, Laila stood in uniform, her pistol cocked on one shoulder as she stared into the darkness beyond.

Rune adjusted her cowl and hood, hiding her face and hair once more, as Gideon’s voice roared from below.

“Laila!”

He sounded much too close.

Laila spun, her footsteps approaching the door.

“She’s in here!”

Gideon was already climbing the ladder. With Laila just outside, Rune was trapped between them.

Rune pressed herself against the wall beside the door, listening to his boots thud against every rung. Getting closer. She squeezed the vial in her hand. She had seconds. If she could quickly redraw the spellmarks for Ghost Walker …

The door swung in and Laila stepped inside.

Rune froze.

Before Laila could realize someone was in the room with her, pressed against the wall, Rune realized this was her one and only chance.

She lunged outside.

Laila spun to face her.

Rune slammed the door shut and wedged herself against it, pushing all of her weight into the wood. Laila pushed from the other side.

The door shuddered.

Gideon would arrive any moment. Rune needed some way to seal it shut long enough to get away. The last time she’d tried Picklock, she’d fainted from the effort. And its sister spell, Deadbolt, would be just as difficult to cast.

If you want to cast more complex spells, Verity’s voice rang through her mind, you need fresh blood.

Rune drew the knife at her thigh. Its sheath had kept it semi-dry, and while some water had leaked in, the blade was still coated in Gideon’s blood. The blood was diluted, but fresh.

She knew it was dangerous—she hadn’t asked his permission to use it, nor would she get permission if she had. But she hadn’t stabbed him intending to use his blood. So maybe it would be okay.

But what if it isn’t?

Laila fired her pistol. Rune winced as the shots cracked through the air and the bullets lodged in the rickety door. A few more shots, and those bullets would break through.

If Rune didn’t cast the spell now, she was done for.

Hoping she wasn’t about to corrupt herself, Rune swiped her fingers through Gideon’s blood, lifted them to the door, and drew the mark for Deadbolt.

Salt prickled her tongue. That roaring sea swelled inside her. But this time, Rune wasn’t standing in the waves, fighting to stay upright while the magic pummeled her back. This time, the waves were beneath her, and she was sailing swiftly through them on a craft of her own making.

Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?

Rune immediately understood why witches used fresh blood; it was so easy.

Beneath the roar of magic, something clicked into place.

This time, it was Gideon who threw himself against the door. She heard him grunt; felt the force of his weight. But the door barely trembled. Deadbolt kept it locked, trapping both Blood Guard soldiers inside.

Rune stumbled back, smiling in triumph.

More shots rang out. Bullets splintered the wood.

Her smile died on her lips.

Rune turned and bolted.

She slid the whistle from her pocket as she ran. Pressing it to her lips, she blew one hard, fierce note. Lady barreled out of the copse and up the dirt road, heading straight for her.

Another shot rang out, and this one whizzed past Rune’s head, rustling her hair. She glanced over her shoulder to find Laila aiming the barrel of her pistol through the broken window.

Lady arrived, slowing a little, and Rune launched herself at the horse’s back, struggling to mount as she trotted beneath her. Finally in the saddle, Rune’s boots in the stirrups, she dug in her heels, letting Lady know this was one of those urgent situations she frequently got them into that Lady needed to now get them out of.

But it was a few seconds before the massive horse could pick up enough speed to carry them out of range.

A third shot rang out. This time, Rune felt the sharp sting of a bullet as it sliced her forearm. Warm, sticky blood seeped out.

She couldn’t afford to stop and check how bad it was. Right now, she needed to steer Lady away from Laila and her stinging bullets.

After that …

Rune stared at the lights of Seldom Harbor on the horizon, trying to think.

Two Blood Guard soldiers had seen the Crimson Moth at the old mine tonight. Rune Winters, therefore, needed to be seen somewhere else. Preferably far away.

She needed to get to the Creeds’ masked ball, and fast.

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TWENTY-FOUR GIDEON

GIDEON WAS HAULING HIMSELF up the last three rungs of the ladder when he heard Laila’s pistol go off. He glanced up to find his hunting partner desperately pulling on the door, her black ponytail swishing with every yank.

“Damn it!” Laila snarled. “She locked us in!”

Gideon pulled himself into the room. His wounded leg protested every step as Laila moved aside to let him try.

“Gideon, you’re bleeding …”

The Moth’s knife had missed the major arteries and tendons, but his thigh still hurt like hell. What annoyed him most, though, was not getting a look at her face before she plunged the blade in.

“It looks worse than it is,” he said, taking the tarnished metal latch in both hands and yanking on it.

The door didn’t budge.

I had her, he thought, throwing himself at the door. She was in my hands.

But why hadn’t she gone for his neck with that knife? The Moth was a coldhearted killer. Gideon had seen the corpses she’d abandoned in the city streets, ruthlessly bled dry.

So why aim for his leg?

Laila moved to the window. The pane was smashed. Lifting her gun, Laila aimed through the broken glass and fired three times.

“I think that last shot might have hit her,” she said, peering out.

The idea of Laila hitting her mark made Gideon stiffen.

If it was Rune …

Gideon scowled. Who cared if it was Rune? Rune or not, the Crimson Moth wouldn’t think twice if their situation was reversed—the proof was in his throbbing, bleeding leg.

And if it was Rune, he told himself, she’s a traitor to the Republic.