“Speaking of the Moth,” said Harrow, “what happened to your trap? I expected Rune Winters to be imprisoned by now.”

Gideon fisted his hand, remembering how close he’d come down in the mine. “My plan failed. I think we’ve gone down a false trail.”

“Did you take my advice?”

His thoughts raced back to Rune in the garden. It had taken all of his willpower to walk away from her. On the ride home, he’d nearly turned back twice.

The thought of Alex had stopped him.

Gideon blew out a frustrated breath.

Did he regret kissing her? Yes. Absolutely. What kind of man kisses the girl of his little brother’s dreams?

But he also liked it.

He thought of Rune on the beach, stripping off her clothes. Letting him look.

Heat flickered deep inside him.

Gideon ran a palm over his eyes, trying to chase the image out of his brain. “I took your stupid advice, yes.”

“You got her naked.”

He looked away as the blood rushed to his face.

Harrow whistled. “You do move fast. And?”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing. No scars.”

“But you were thorough?”

“As thorough as I could be.”

“So, you slept with her?”

“What? No.” The thought of it turned the flickering heat into a raging inferno. “No. We went swimming the other night.”

Harrow raised a skeptical brow.

“I looked,” Gideon growled. “I found nothing.”

“You said you went at night. How well could you see?”

“Harrow.”

“Gideon. This is a witch who’s escaped detection for two years now. She won’t keep her scars where anyone can find them. Did you look between her thighs?”

The thought of Rune’s thighs made him grind his palms into his eyes. “Stop.”

“Because if I were a witch hiding in plain sight, that’s definitely where I’d keep mine.”

Gideon groaned. “You’re killing me, Harrow.”

“You need to sleep with her.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Of course he’d thought about it. It had physically hurt to turn down Rune’s invitation. The moment he got home, he’d gone straight into a cold shower, so he could stop thinking about it.

If they were truly courting, it’s all he’d be thinking about.

But they weren’t courting. Not really. So he needed to not think about it.

“It’s the only way to know for certain.”

“No,” he said again.

It was too far. A crossed line.

“If you were committed, Comrade,” said Harrow, crossing her arms, “if you truly want to catch your little Moth as badly as you say you do, you’d leave no stone unturned.”

He ran both hands roughly over his face this time, then through his hair, tugging on it.

“Come on, Gideon. With a face like that, it won’t be a chore.”

Gideon felt too many things at once. His chest knotted with frustration. His body ached with desire. Worst of all, he suspected Harrow was right. It had been dark when they went swimming. He’d looked at Rune from a distance. And he hadn’t truly inspected every inch of her.

The thought of doing so made him swallow hard.

If he wanted to know, without a doubt, whether Rune Winters was a witch, he would have to take this to the end of the line.

But could he live with himself afterward?

On the one hand, his brother might never speak to him again. On the other, if Rune was the Crimson Moth—and if the Moth was not only rescuing witches, but murdering Blood Guard soldiers and planning an uprising—Gideon had a responsibility to do whatever it took to find out. To stop her.

He growled low in his throat. “Fine.”

He remembered Rune pulling off her dress. The fabric sliding up her legs, over her hips, along her torso. Thought of her dropping the dress in the sand and peeling off her undergarments.

Feeling strangely breathless, he said, “I’ll do it.”

Once he knew for certain if she was innocent, he could proceed accordingly. If Rune wasn’t the Moth, nor in league with her, she posed no threat to Alex. In which case, Gideon would break off this courtship before things escalated further and point her toward the man who actually deserved her: his brother.

And if she is the Moth …

Flashes of memory shimmered like glass: Rune, wading naked through the water toward him. The soft give of her waist beneath his hand. The taste of her skin—like sea salt and soap.

But it wasn’t only her physical attributes that had him spinning. It was her kindness. Her thoughtfulness. Her wildness. It was her willingness to argue with him.

If he wasn’t careful, he might fall in love with her.

Gideon started toward the door.

“If you have nothing else to report, I’ll take my leave.”

He was already running late.

“Nothing else,” said Harrow, falling into step behind him. “I’ll walk you out.”

The moment they walked out of his office and into the hallway, a soldier from his regiment strode toward them. Harrow leaned against the wall, keeping out of their way. At the sight of the young woman’s blanched face, Gideon stayed where he was.

“Captain.” The soldier halted before Gideon. “The Tasker brothers still haven’t reported for duty.”

“Still?” Gideon had thought it strange when he was first made aware of their absence earlier in the day. It wasn’t like them. The Taskers’ bloodlust for witches made them devoted soldiers. Gideon might despise their tactics, but their work ethic was top-notch.

And it was evening now.

Tardiness was one thing. But missing an entire shift?

Gideon frowned, thinking of the mutilated bodies of Blood Guard soldiers found across the city these past few months. Like a trail of bloody bread crumbs.

An ominous feeling settled over him.

He glanced at his watch. “Can you send Laila to check their apartment?”

“Laila’s at the prison tonight.”

He could send another officer, but what if the brothers weren’t there? Would another soldier know where else to look? Gideon would know. But he was already late for the Luminaries Dinner. If he went to look himself, he might miss the dinner entirely.

Gideon ran his palm across his forehead.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go. But I need a telegram sent immediately.”

“Of course, sir.”

Walking back into his office, Gideon grabbed the fountain pen off his desk and scrawled a hasty note. Folding it, he wrote down the address, and handed it over. “Make sure this message gets to Wintersea within the hour.”

OceanofPDF.com

THIRTY-FIVE RUNE

MAJORA: (n.) the second-highest spell category.

Majora Spells are major spells requiring the fresh blood of someone else, either taken with permission or given freely. Examples of Majora Spells include: summoning a natural disaster or inflicting a deadly disease.

—From Rules of Magic by Queen Callidora the Valiant

“I ENCHANTED THE JACKET,” said Rune, standing in her shift as Verity pinned up her hair.

“Gideon’s jacket? That was bold.” The words were mumbled around the pin clenched between Verity’s teeth. “Where did you put the spellmark?”

“In one of the interior pockets.”

Rune had drawn the bloody mark for Truth Teller inside the pocket a few hours ago and sent the package off. If it arrived on time, and Gideon wore it, Rune would pull the answers she needed from him like loose threads from a sweater.

Rune was determined to be more ruthless tonight. After three days of his silence—no telegrams, no flowers, no more requests for walks—Rune had to conclude he’d forgotten her. Normally after such an encounter, her suitors tried to secure her affection by sending extravagant bouquets or inviting her on intimate picnics in the countryside.