“Wait…” He stepped toward Harrow. This was the last thing he needed here, where he’d planned to broker peace between enemies, not spark a bloodbath.
“Do you know who this is?” Harrow hissed, darting out of Gideon’s reach. She spoke to him without taking her eyes off the girl. “Juniper Huynh.Her parents locked me in their cellar and left me to starve. Juniper let them. She left me todie.”
Gideon glanced from Harrow to the witch at Seraphine’s side. The girl’s long dark hair was braided over one shoulder and her brown eyes shone at Harrow.
Juniper.The girl Harrow loved.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you right here,” Harrow demanded.
Juniper didn’t even try to defend herself.
“Harrow.” Gideon stepped closer, reaching for his gun.
Harrow drew a knife from her belt and swiped it at him,forcing him to step back, never lowering the gun, or her gaze, from the quiet witch across the salon. “If Cressida Roseblood were standing across the room, you would take the shot. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t.”
She was right. He would. But…
Someone stepped in front of Juniper, cutting her off from Harrow’s line of fire. She wore tan riding leathers, and her cheeks were bright pink from the cold. Her strawberry blonde hair was wild, tugged free of its messy braid, as if she’d been galloping straight into the wind.
Rune.
Harrow narrowed her eyes. “Step aside, Crimson Moth.”
But Rune stood firm, chin held high, keeping Juniper behind her.
Seeing her on the wrong side of a gun made Gideon’s pulse spike. He moved to intervene.
But Rune lifted her hand, silently telling him to stop as she stared Harrow down.
“If it wasn’t for Juniper, you’d be dead right now. She all but forced me to break you out of that prison cell.”
Gideon raised a brow, glancing to his friend. Harrow had been captured? And Rune had rescued her?
An interesting twist.
“You owe Juniper your life.”
“You’re lying,” said Harrow, still holding her knife aloft and pointed at Gideon with one hand while the other aimed the gun at the witches.
“I wish I were.” Rune narrowed her eyes. “Clearly you didn’t deserve it.”
To Gideon’s surprise, Harrow lowered both weapons. But whether it was because she believed Rune or because she was indebted to her, Gideon couldn’t tell.
“Well, isn’t this pleasant,” said Bart, who must have entered during the tense exchange. He stood in a baby blue robe with the crest of his house stitched in silver on the breast pocket. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast? Antonio, can we accommodate a few more this morning?”
Antonio was calmly scanning the salon, taking in each person—natural enemies, all—when his gaze fell on Seraphine. At the sight of her, he frowned and tilted his head ever so slightly, as if asking a silent question.
In answer, Seraphine dipped her head. Almost imperceptibly.
“That won’t be a problem,” said Antonio, tearing his eyes from Seraphine and glancing to Bart. “Why don’t you show everyone to the terrace while Bess and I prepare the food.” He stepped in front of Harrow and held out both hands, palms up. “No weapons at breakfast, I’m afraid.”
Harrow eyed him, then slammed both the gun and the knife hilt into his open hands before following Bart toward the gardens. She didn’t look at Juniper.
Gideon hung back, trying to catch Rune’s eye as the witches passed, but she was already in conversation with Seraphine, and if she noticed him, she didn’t show it. As he took his place behind her, following this strange entourage into the gardens, he noticed a red mark on the back of her neck, peeking up above her leather collar. Like a freshly healed scar.
He frowned, wondering how she’d come by it.
SIXTY-THREERUNE
