Page 39

“Rune. Your secret is safe here.” Letting the water run, he came back to her. Getting down on his knees, he touched her cheek. “You can sleep in the spare room tonight. And tomorrow morning, we’ll figure out what to do.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “If they find out, they’ll kill you, too.”

He smiled at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They can go right ahead.”

Rune flung her arms around him, clinging tightly. He pulled her close, holding her for a long time. It was there, in his arms, that Rune realized for the first time she could trust Alexander Sharpe with her life.

FOURTEENGIDEON

WHEN GIDEON FINALLY ARRIVEDback in Old Town, with his father’s wine-soaked jacket in hand, he’d gone over his evening at Wintersea House several times in his mind.

Had he made a mistake, moving so fast? He’d noticed the way Rune trembled beneath his touch and had a feeling she deliberately dumped that wine on him.

He’d come on too strong.

Gideon sighed, going over tonight’s events one more time. Rune had certainly been a little awkward, if not downright odd. First, there was the weirdness with the wine. Then, her dismay over the telegram invitation. And last, her questions about his work while she tried to seduce him.

It wasn’t enough to accuse her of anything. For that, he’d need some concrete evidence. Casting scars, for example. If she had them, he needed to find them.

And if she isn’t the Moth?

If she wasn’t, why invite him to her bedroom? Why flirt so shamelessly?

Unless she was actually interested in him.

Not possible,thought Gideon.

He trudged up the lamplit streets of Old Town, mullingeverything over. It was foggy tonight, and as he approached the street leading to his tenement, the soft sound of footsteps echoed behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder, but the fog was thick as smoke.

As the sudden smell of roses bloomed in the damp air, a chill skated over his skin.

She’s dead,he told himself.You’re imagining it.

Still, thinking of the body they’d found beneath the bridge three nights ago, he increased his pace.

The footsteps quickened in response.

Gideon’s stomach knotted. He reached for the pistol holstered at his hip, only to remember he’d left it at home tonight. The opulent halls of Wintersea House were no place for a gun.

You’re a Blood Guard captain. Footsteps in the fog do not scare you.

But it wasn’t the footsteps so much as the smell.

Hersmell.

He was coming upon a footpath that led into the back alley behind his tenement. It was difficult to find if you didn’t live in this neighborhood and already know it was there. As the footsteps started closing the gap between them, Gideon arrived at the opening to the path. He sidestepped onto it and pushed his back against the wood fence.

If the pursuer knew about the path and followed him down it, at least he’d have the element of surprise.

The footsteps grew louder. Closer.

Gideon tensed, ready to defend himself, when the footsteps passed him by.

He remained where he was, holding his breath. The fence behind him sagged as he leaned against it. As the footsteps receded into the distance, the pounding of his heart soon drowned out the sound.

The smell of her was gone.