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SIXTY

RUNE

AS GIDEON COLLAPSED TO his hands and knees, Rune caught sight of his coat. Which glistened darkly.

Rune frowned, looking closer. What…

At the sight of the blood, her heart plummeted into her stomach.

“You absolute idiot.” She dropped to her knees, her wrists still bound with rope. “Why didn’t you tell me they shot you?”

Gideon just shook his head, his eyes going unfocused. “Leave me here. I’m dead weight now.”

Rune wanted to grab his shoulders and shout the sense back into him. “If you think I’m leaving you in the woods of Wintersea to die, you’re dumber than a stump.”

A horse whinnied close by.

Rune froze, listening.

There were soldiers on horseback everywhere. She needed to get Gideon out of here.

But first, she needed to stop his bleeding.

Remembering the spellmarks Juniper had drawn on her arms to stop her bleeding, she touched his soaked jacket. “Gideon? I need your permission.”

He glanced up at her. Even in the dark, she sensed his confusion.

“I need your blood.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Go ahead.”

Another horse whinnied, and Rune paused to listen before turning back to Gideon. Hoping she remembered the spellmarks accurately, she drew them on his skin—a cumbersome task, with her hands tied. When nothing happened, she assumed the spell had failed.

But then: magic rushed, flowing through her like sunlight. It swirled around them, infusing the air.

Gideon breathed in as if inhaling some delicious aroma, then struggled to get to his feet.

Rune came to his side, helping him up. But when his arm came around her shoulders, pressing down, the weight was too much for her flayed back and she clenched her teeth at the pain.

He withdrew his arm. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.” At the sound of voices in the trees—closer than before—she added: “Can you walk without help?”

That spell would wear off in a few hours. They needed to get somewhere safe before then, so Rune could dig out the bullets and sew him up.

“I… think so.” He stood, shakily, on his own two feet.

Suddenly, a soft whuff came out of the darkness. Much too close.

Beside her, Gideon tensed.

But Rune smiled, recognizing the sound.

“It’s all right,” she said as the silhouette of a giant horse emerged from the trees several feet ahead. “It’s Lady.”

Rune had remembered the whistle in her dress pocket while Gideon carried her through the meadow. She’d pulled it out and blown one hard, fierce note—a sound inaudible to human ears. Neither Gideon nor their pursuers would have heard it.

But Lady did.

“She found us.”

The horse bobbed her head and whinnied softly.

Rune helped Gideon mount the horse, who in turn grabbed her hand and pulled her up in front of him.