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But Verity’s right: it’s time.

For a plan like this to be most effective, the person would have to be someone with intimate knowledge of the Blood Guard’s secrets. Maybe she was being too picky, but when Rune looked at the list of suitors Verity had drawn up for her, when she considered the ones who were the most well connected, she suspected she could do better.

That shemustdo better.

Like there was a name missing from her list.

“Noah Creed is a good choice. They say his father is grooming him to become the next Good Commander. But he’s clever,” said Verity, still skimming the spells in the book on Rune’s desk. “Bartholomew Wentholt is a better option. He’s not that bright, and his mother is a celebrated witch hunter.”

“Bart is obsessed with himself,” said Rune, still staring out the window.

“Yes, but that could benefit you. He can’t pay much attention to your comings and goings if he’s checking his reflection every ten minutes.”

Rune sighed and walked back to the desk, where Verity hadthe book open to two spells Rune had been trying to master for weeks now:DeadboltandPicklock. They were for locking and unlocking cell doors.

“Fine,” said Rune, pressing her fists to her hips. “Here’s the plan. I’ll woo Bart. Invite him to my room. Ply him with wine.” She glanced at the cup, now enchanted withTruth Teller. “If the information he gives me is valuable, I’ll choose him. If not, I’ll try again with Noah.”

If a suitor didn’t have access to good information, or wasn’t capable of retaining that information, he wasn’t worth her time.

A knock interrupted them. Rune’s blood spiked at the sound. The false wall of her bedroom hid this room, and she always shut it when she came here—she didn’t want the servants catching her red-handed in her grandmother’s casting room.

“Miss Winters?” called a muffled voice.

Rune blew out a breath through her lips. It was only Lizbeth.

After Nan’s arrest, the staff of Wintersea House all fled in the night, not wanting to serve in the house of a known witch. Or not wanting to serve in the house of an informer. Possibly both.

Only Lizbeth had stayed.

“Your guests are arriving.”

“Thank you. We’ll be right down.”

Rune lifted the enchanted cup from the desk. She would leave it in the kitchen for Lizbeth, who would fill it with wine and await Rune’s summons. They’d done this so often, with so many suitors, it was rote.

Rune glanced over to find Verity shrugging. “Noah or Bart—either will get you what you want, I think. And while you’re making your decision tonight, Alex and I will find out where they’re keeping Seraphine.”

She jumped down off the desk.

Rune opened the latch in the false wall and pushed it open.She waited for Verity to exit the casting room before stepping out after her.

“I was thinking yesterday, while feeding Henry …”

Henry was a spider. Amimicspider, Verity liked to remind her. Rune shivered, remembering the collection of arachnids Verity kept in jars on the shelf of her dormitory room. It was for a research project she was working on.

“Remember how I told you the mimic spider preys on small mammals?”

Rune preferred to not remember, actually. She hated spiders, and was now recalling the last time she’d visited her friend’s dormitory, when Verity handed her a massive jar containing a sleek, long-legged creature that stared at Rune while it feasted on a fuzzy lump twice its size. Possibly a mouse.

“Their webs need to be strong enough to catch and hold much bigger food,” Verity continued, oblivious to Rune’s squirming. “They feign weakness, and their cries summon rodents looking for an easy meal. But once the predator stumbles into the mimic spider’s web, they quickly become the prey. And once they’re caught, the spider devours them slowly over days. Eating them alive.”

Verity glanced pointedly back at Rune.

“Be like the mimic spider.”

Rune wrinkled her nose. “That’s …disgusting.”

But the image stuck in her mind as she shut the door behind them.