Page 79 of The Iron Dagger
Tobin awaited him, and they climbed into the waiting autocar to journey back to the city. As the buildings grew taller outside the windows, Gideon considered the notion of peace beget from war, and if it was even possible. His father had rebuilt this country with violence, creating a perfect cycle of money, labor, and destruction. A cycle that would not be easily broken, even with the looming threat of annihilation.
He closed his eyes, but he could not block the spark of light from playing behind his eyelids, over and over again. Gideon worried that peace was no longer compatible with the world his father had built.
They stopped before the Norwen embassy, and Gideon put his dark musings aside as he stepped down from the vehicle and entered the double doors. There was at least one evil he could undo. One family who he could rescue from the cycle his father had created.
Angharad
When Hara entered her rooms, she found Gideon there, resting his arm against the fireplace mantle and staring fixedly into the flames. He wore a sleek black coat and his white shirt was unbuttoned at the neck. His hair was rumpled, as though he had repeatedly run his fingers through it.
“What is wrong?” Hara said, setting her books on the table and going to stand by his side.
The long lines of his back and the set of his shoulders were tense. He did not look up from the fire as he spoke. “My father showed me something today. A new weapon.”
Only a few short weeks ago, he’d been proud of the weaponry his factories had created. What sort of weapon could have possibly shaken him so, to be acting this way? Hara felt a chill deep in her gut. It must be fearsome, indeed.
“What was it like?” she asked softly.
“It was monstrous,” whispered Gideon, his voice cracking slightly. “They are made from a newly discovered substance that we do not fully understand, treated with a distillate from the river. It’s some sort of magically enhanced bomb, more powerful than dynamite and able to sicken and burn those who come near it.”
Revulsion crawled over Hara’s skin to imagine such an invention. It sounded like evil incarnate.
“They are working on creating one on a massive scale. I saw the holding tank, and if they are successful, I’m afraid it would vaporize cities.”
It was then she noticed the redness that rimmed his eyes. Hearing of this horrific invention was unsettling enough, but Gideon had seen it, and was tortured by what he had witnessed.
“I’m . . . afraid, Hara. I’m afraid of what my father is capable of. He will not be swayed. I confronted him, and he said it was a means to peace. A threat that no one would dare trigger.” Gideon let out a humorless huff of laughter. Finally, he turned away from the fire, but he did not meet her eyes. “I’m afraid of what it could do, but I’m also afraid at how close I came to becoming like him.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was a time not so long ago when I would have been . . . excited by such a weapon. I would have nodded along with my father’s reasoning for why it should exist. I would have—” His words broke off, and he turned away from her in shame.
Without thinking, she reached out and tugged him into her arms. She could imagine him as a little boy, excited by the gunfire and explosions his father showed him. It was a connection to his father, the violence. To find disgust in it now was to find disgust with their entire relationship.
Gideon was stiff for a moment, his long form unyielding against her body. Then he wrapped his arms around her and gentled under her touch. They stood that way for some time, and Hara breathed in the scent of his clean shirt and listened to the warm thrum of his heartbeat under her cheek. She remembered the way he had found her a few days ago, so desolate at what she’d seen in the mines. He had come to her side without hesitation, laid with her, held her, and listened.
This was not the first time Hara had embraced him this way. She’d held him in her cottage when she learned how hismen died, but that was when he was practically a stranger. Now, he was something else entirely. Someone who had nursed her in return, fought for her, and seen her at her most vulnerable. He was no longer the coldhearted scoundrel that she found in the woods. The fear and regret etched in his face showed a side of his humanity that she had not yet witnessed.
“You knew nothing else,” she said gently. “But you can change, I’ve seen it. You can grow and be a better man than your father.”
“A low bar to meet, and yet I’ve only just tripped over it,” Gideon said sardonically.
“Would you have created the witch hunter group?” asked Hara, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “Before you met me, could you imagine doing something like that?”
She appreciated that he did not answer immediately, and took time to reflect. Then he shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Then you are fundamentally different. Everything else you believed was only learned. That means it could be unlearned.”
Gideon gave her a humorless smile. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It isn’t. But it’s easier than you would think. People tend to forget that it takes a lot of energy to be hateful, too. Do you think your father is content and rests well at night?”
Gideon gave her a half smile, a spark of amusement entering his eyes for the first time. “No, I wouldn’t wager so.”
Hara smiled, and his grin widened. Then Hara noticed the faint wash of pink over his sharp cheekbones. He cleared his throat.
“Do you think . . . could I spend the night in here with you?” he said.
Surely he wasn’t feeling aroused at a time like this. At her raised eyebrows, he continued in a rush, “I don’t mean to swive you. It was just . . . nice, the other day. Lying in bed together.”
