Page 18

A few months after her grandmother’s purging, Rune bled for the first time. All of her friends had started their monthly cycles years before, around the age of thirteen. But Rune’s first bleeding arrived late, at sixteen, after the revolution. Bringing with it the knowledge that she was, in fact, a witch.

She still remembered the painful cramping in her lower abdomen. She’d been at a party when it started, and had to excuse herself. In the bathroom, she’d found the black stain in her underwear, shining like ink.

Rune had stared at it, disbelieving.

It was the initial sign of a witch: at the onset of your first bleeding, you didn’t bleed red, but black.

Rune had seen Nan cast, and had gleaned some of the fundamentals from her. But everything else she’d learned from Verity, whose two eldest sisters had been witches and had let their younger sister help them with their spells. It was Verity who started collecting her own blood and giving it to Rune in order to help her cast stronger spells.

Like this enchantment.Truth Tellerwas a Minora spell and therefore more advanced than Rune’s usual Mirages. So she was using Verity’s blood instead of her own.

Verity turned away from the vials, moving toward the center of the room, where Rune sat at the desk. A spell book lay open beside her. On the yellowed pages in red ink was the symbol for the truth-telling spell. It was what Rune was using to enchant the wine cup.

“I’ll worry about my supply later,” said Rune, still drawingthe mark in blood. The taste of salt stung her throat, and the roar of magic was loud in her ears. “Tonight, we need to find out where they’re holding Seraphine.”

The moment the spellmark was complete, magic swelled inside Rune like a wave. She swallowed back the briny taste in her mouth and waited for the roar in her ears to recede.

As the blood dried and the spell solidified, Verity pushed her spectacles further up her nose. Rune couldn’t help but notice the shadows under her friend’s eyes. Likely from too many late nights helping the Crimson Moth, then staying up until morning to finish her biology homework.

Verity was a scholarship student at the university in the capital.

“We’ve been trying to find the new holding location for weeks and have nothing to show for it,” Verity pointed out. “What makes you think tonight will be any different?”

“Because it has to be?” said Rune, desperate.

Pushing herself onto the desk, Verity seated herself next to the spell book, and her lavender perfume invaded Rune’s senses. Floral scents were in fashion these days, and the one Verity doused herself in had been a gift from her sisters.

“Rubbing elbows with patriots and witch hunters worked a year ago,” said Verity. “But the Blood Guard have gotten smarter. If we want to rescue Seraphine in time—if the Crimson Moth intends to stay one step ahead of the witch hunters—we’ll need a better tactic. Have you given any more thought to my idea?”

“The one where I say goodbye to my freedom by marrying some smug suitor?”

Verity rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. You say goodbye torunning yourself raggedby strategically marrying someone who will unwittingly help you save witches.” She started casually turning the thin pages of the book, absently skimmingthrough the spells. “Did you see Charlotte Gong tonight? She was wearing a gold ring on a chain around her neck.”

“So?” said Rune, setting the enchanted cup down now that the bloody spellmark on the bottom was dry. No one ever thought to check the bottom of their beverage for evidence of magic. Especially not in a witch hater’s house.

“So: she’s engaged. To Elias Creed.” Elias was Laila and Noah’s eldest brother. “He works for the Ministry of Public Safety. I put him at the top of your list of suitors, remember?”

“Pity,” said Rune, without a hint of disappointment. She was happy for Charlotte, who had a sweet temperament and once told her the witch purgings gave her a stomachache.

“Pity indeed. Elias would have been perfect for you. Boring. Not too intelligent. Close to a source of valuable intel. Soon all the good ones will be taken, and you’ll be out of options.”

“Perhapsyoucould marry instead and give me all the intel you extract.”

Verity gave a small smile. “I would if I could. But no one useful wants the poor little charity case.”

This was, unfortunately, true.

Verity’s mother had hated witches so deeply, she’d outed her eldest daughters to the Blood Guard, resulting in their deaths. Because of this, Verity had cut all ties with her parents, and in doing so, cut herself off from their monetary support. Rune suspected the story was even darker than her friend let on, from the way Verity went icy quiet when people brought it up, her eyes blackening like thunderclouds.

Verity’s position at the university was now dependent on scholarships. Scholarships she could keep only if she attained top grades. Otherwise, she’d be stripped of her room and board and forced out onto the street.

Rising from the desk, Rune crossed to the window of the annex and looked out. Her grandmother’s garden labyrinth sprawled out below, illuminated by the waxing moon. The sea was a black mirror in the distance.

She didn’t feel ready to marry. It wasn’t a matter of not being in love with any of her suitors; Rune had never expected love. In fact, in her grandmother’s absence, sometimes Rune felt half-alive. Like her heart was a withered thing in her chest.

Rune was no longer capable of love, nor did she need it. What she needed was to make the most strategic choice.

It was more thefinalityof yoking herself to someone for the rest of her life that made her balk, especially when that someone could never know who she really was.