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“I brought you something,” he said as the wall snicked shut beneath her hands.

When Rune turned to face him, he pressed a silver coin into her palm. It was nearly as wide as the length of her thumb, and still warm from his hand. A woman’s image was imprinted on the silver.

Fortitude.

The Ancient’s hair was braided over one shoulder as she held her chin high, and across her chest was a bandolier.

“Gideon’s access coin,” Rune murmured, not believing it. “You stole it?”

“Won it,” he said. “In a game of cards.”

Rune marveled at the coin, then glanced up. “You hate pitting yourself against your brother.”

“Actually.” He held her gaze. “I no longer mind so much.”

He was choosing her, she realized. This boy who saw exactly who she was—whatshe was—and didn’t care. Or rather: cared so much, he wanted to give her back what the revolution had taken.

In Caelis, we’ll go to the opera house every day of the week. Where they show real operas, not that propaganda you despise.

Again, Rune let herself imagine it: a life far away from the Republic. No more worrying about who was watching or listening. No more pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Rune would be free.

But what kind of person would that make her? How could she live a safe, comfortable life full of good, beautiful thingsknowingthe Blood Guard was hunting down witches? Knowing she could stop it—but didn’t?

Rune wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

“There’s something else,” he said, turning away and letting out a rough sigh.

Rune studied him. “What’s wrong?”

“Cressida Roseblood is alive.”

Rune frowned, certain she’d misheard him. “What?”

Alex turned briefly back to her. “The fire that almost killed you the other night? It was Cressida’s spell, not Seraphine’s. Gideon found her signature after the fire.”

“That can’t be true,” said Rune, shaking her head. “Cressida’s dead.”

Alex strode to the window, his footsteps echoing on the floorboards. At the pane, he stopped and looked out.

“She couldn’t have been at the Luminaries Dinner,” Rune said, suddenly needing him to agree with her. “Because you killed her.”

He was silent for a long time. The silence turned the room cold.

“You killed her,” she said again, forceful this time. “Right, Alex?”

“That’s the other thing I came to tell you. I never finished my story the other night.” He stared out the window. “On the eve of the New Dawn, while my brother was murdering her sisters, Ididgo to Thornwood Hall to kill Cressida. I found her asleep in her bedroom. She woke to the barrel of my pistol pressed against her head.” He drew in a ragged breath. “I told her to get out of the bed, and she fell to her knees on the floor, begging me to spare her life. She told me she loved my brother, and that was why she did the things she did—because Gideon belonged to her.”

Rune heard the anger in his voice as he spoke the words.

“Before that moment, I’d never wanted to hurt anything in my whole life. But Rune: I wanted to hurther. I wanted to squeeze the air out of her hateful lungs and watch her writhe. I had one of the most powerful witches in the world on her knees at my feet, with my gun pressed to her forehead. The girl who’d killed my little sister and damaged my older brother beyond repair. All I had to do was pull the trigger. And I relished it.”

“And that’s when you shot her,” said Rune, gripping the edge of her desk, the color leaching from her knuckles.Say it. Tell me you shot her.

He shook his head, staring out the window as if staring into the past.

“It was like there were two of me: the Alex who wanted to destroy her, and the Alex whoknewdead witches weren’t the answer. Deep down, I didn’t believe the bloodshed and vengeance my brother craved would bring about a better world. Murdering them would make us no better than them. And that was what scared me: that despite my convictions, it could be so easy to give in to the bloodlust.