Page 79

EPILOGUE

THREE MONTHS LATER

RUNE STARED OUT THROUGH the front windows, her attention fixed on the parked carriages lined up outside Wintersea House. A full moon shone from the blue-black sky as guests dressed in glittering finery trickled in through the front doors.

Rune clasped her hands to stop them from shaking.

I can’t do this.

Lifting the hem of her evening gown, she spun on her heel and marched past the stairs leading down to her ballroom—which was decorated for tonight’s celebration, not to mention full of chattering guests. She glimpsed Bart Wentholt’s coppery hair and heard Juniper’s bright laugh. But her friends only strengthened her conviction.

I can’t go down there.

Rune slipped into her bedchamber, where all was quiet and still. The lights were turned down for the evening, and the door to her casting room stood ajar.

She swung it open and went inside, heading straight for the window, where she opened the latch and pushed out the pane.

A warm breeze flowed in.

Rune paused for a second to close her eyes and breathe it in, remembering how lucky she was. How never again would she take anything for granted. Not the breeze on her face. Not the moon or the sky. And certainly not this island she called home.

It was that in-between time when summer transitioned to fall. The trees were changing color, and the winds were getting rougher. The temperature could be hotter than the height of summer one day, and so cold it might as well snow the next.

Tonight was closer to the former. Warm and breezy.

Rune hiked up the skirts of her dress and climbed into the windowsill, planning to scale the ivy and escape through the gardens.

“Where the hell are you going?”

The voice made her freeze.

Rune stared toward the fields, where a path carved through the wildflowers, leading into the woods and down to the sea.

“Just… um… checking the gardens.”

She ducked back inside, resenting the blush blooming up her face, and spun to face the intruder. Gideon Sharpe leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his broad chest, staring at her with an amused expression.

“I asked Lizbeth to make sure the paths were lit”—she avoided his gaze, letting her eyes scan the shelves full of spell books—“so the guests can stroll there. I want to make sure she didn’t forget.”

“You can’t go out the back door, like a normal person?”

Rune glanced longingly to the window. To the moonlit path through the fields.

Gideon pushed away from the door and came toward her. “What were you actually doing?”

Rune’s gaze snagged on his militia-styled tailcoat, its rust-red shade complementing her turquoise evening gown. Gideon would have been a gentlemanly vision of perfect style had it not been for his cravat. Which he’d completely botched.

He couldn’t go downstairs like that.

“It’s the perfect night for a swim, don’t you think?” she said, closing the distance between them, her fingers itching to fix the cravat.

“A swim ?”

“Mmm.” She reached for the white silk around his neck and started untying it. “Just think… you and me. Naked. In the sea. No one will even notice we’re missing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think people will notice that their new parliamentarian—who they’re here to celebrate tonight, and whose house they’re all gathered in—is nowhere to be found.”

Rune made a face as she tugged the white silk free of his neck, lifted his collar, then tied it again. “We can be fashionably late.”

As in, so late, we arrive when everyone else is drunk and leaving.

Ever since the election results were announced, Rune had been like a jumpy horse in a cramped stall. She’d been chosen to represent her district in the House of Commons, the heart of Cascadia’s new government. Thirteen officials had been elected, with each one having a seat in parliament. Six seats had gone to witches; seven to non-witches.

Rune crossed Gideon’s cravat over itself twice, then pulled it through, tying the knot and tucking it into his waistcoat.

Perfect.

“Antonio spent a week making the cake.”

“So he says,” she murmured, running her hands up Gideon’s chest and looping her arms around his neck. If she couldn’t convince him with words, there were other ways to win him over…

“There are a hundred people downstairs waiting to—”

Rune pressed her lips against his throat.

He fell silent. She continued kissing, moving slowly upward. She felt the change in him—the stiffening of desire. His hand moved to her hip, then slid to the small of her back. Drawing her closer.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing my husband?” She slid her fingers into his hair and pushed up onto her toes, only to find his mouth waiting for hers.

Their hips collided as he pulled her flush against him.

Rune suddenly regretted retying his cravat. She should have left it off. Should have unbuttoned his coat and then moved on to his shirt…

As Gideon dragged her bottom lip between his teeth, Rune’s fingers moved to the buttons of his tailcoat, undoing them. When he realized, he grabbed her wrists, stopping her.

“Rune.” Her name was a frustrated growl. “You’re not going to seduce me into running away from your party with you.”

She pouted as he stepped back.

“These people want to celebrate you.”

Those words pinched her with guilt. Rune glanced away.

“What is this really about?” Gideon reached for her hand, running the pad of his thumb over the thin scar at the base of her ring finger. “There’s nothing to fear anymore. All you have to do is be yourself.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.

“What if I disappoint them?” she whispered, avoiding his gaze. “What if they don’t like the real Rune Winters?”

He laughed.

“Beloved.” He took her chin between his fingers, trying to drag her gaze up to him. “That’s not possible.”

She tugged her chin free and started to retreat, but he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back, nipping her bare shoulder, then kissing the edge of a scar peeking up above her dress.

“You’re the opposite of disappointing.”

“What if I fail them?” She weaved her fingers back into his hair. “What if none of this works?”

“Then we keep trying and fixing it until it does work.” Releasing her waist, he grabbed her hand again, lifted it, and kissed the ring-like scar banded around her second smallest finger. “Just like everything else.”

Rune glanced at the matching scar banded around his finger.

They were casting scars formed from the spells she’d performed during their wedding, which Antonio officiated, keeping his promise. While speaking their vows as their friends bore witness, Rune had cast two spells: one for speaking the truth, and the other binding them to their words.

So now, instead of wedding bands, they wore wedding scars.

“You have to start somewhere,” he said. “And this is where we’re starting.”

Winding his fingers through hers, Gideon tugged her from the casting room. She resisted a little, but eventually gave in, letting him pull her to the staircase leading down to the ballroom. Where their guests waited.

Rune paused at the top of the stairs. The chandelier winked overhead. Her pulse stumbled as more and more people turned to look up at the Crimson Moth and her army commander.

She glanced wistfully back in the direction of her casting room and the open window.

Noticing, Gideon leaned in and whispered against her cheek, “How about this: when these aristos are gone, you and I will reconvene. Naked. In the sea. Deal?”

Rune bit down on her smile. “Deal.”

Gideon tucked her arm through his as they faced their friends.

“It’s time to make a new world, Rune. Are you ready?”