Trust Between Former Enemies in Rebel Witch: Theme Analysis

The Fragile Architecture of Trust Between Former Enemies in Rebel Witch

In Kristen Ciccarelli’s Rebel Witch, trust between former enemies is not a single moment of reconciliation but a precarious, iterative process built on mutual vulnerability, demonstrated sacrifice, and the willingness to risk betrayal again. The novel’s central claim is that trust can emerge from shared goals and personal cost, but it remains perpetually fragile—threatened by past betrayals, systemic enmity, and the ever-present possibility of self-interest. Through the evolving relationship between Rune Winters and Gideon Sharpe, and the broader coalition of witches and patriots, Ciccarelli shows that trust is not a destination but a daily choice, one that requires both parties to expose their softest underbellies and accept that the other might still strike.

From Truce to Trap: The First Fragile Step

The novel’s opening chapters establish the deep distrust between Rune and Gideon. In the powder room confrontation (chapters 1–3), Gideon corners Rune with a gun, intending to kill her, but hesitates when he sees her crying. Their exchange is a litany of accusations—Rune blames him for handing her over to be purged; Gideon blames her for Alex’s death. This scene is not a truce but a standoff, and when Rune disarms him, she does so not to forgive but to punish. The trust deficit is absolute.

Yet the first genuine attempt at trust comes later, in chapter 13, when Rune proposes a temporary truce in a dress shop. She offers to break off her engagement to Soren and nullify Cressida’s alliance if Gideon helps her reach the New Republic and hands over the sibyl. Gideon’s internal monologue reveals his immediate plan to betray her: “She can’t betray me if I betray her first.” He accepts her terms only to arrest her once they make port. This is trust as a tactical maneuver, not a genuine bond. Rune, too, is wary—she knows he is plotting against her, as she later tells him in chapter 36: “I know what you’re planning. You’re going to follow me, kill the Roseblood heir, then arrest me so you can barter with Soren.”

What makes this initial truce meaningful is that both characters acknowledge the other’s potential for betrayal yet choose to proceed anyway. Rune risks her safety by trusting Gideon to smuggle her into enemy territory; Gideon risks his reputation and life by defying his orders. Their mutual suspicion is not resolved but managed. They each hold a gun—literally and metaphorically—and the truce holds only because each believes they can outmaneuver the other. This is trust as a calculated risk, not a leap of faith.

The Terrace Table: Building Trust Across an Invisible Line

The novel’s most explicit exploration of trust between former enemies occurs in chapter 63, when witches and patriots gather at Bart’s terrace. The scene is described as having “an invisible line drawn across the table, separating witches from patriots.” Harrow, a witch hunter, sits opposite Juniper, a witch who once let her die. Seraphine, a witch queen, faces Gideon, a former Blood Guard captain. Rune observes that “no one had a reason to trust each other.”

Gideon’s proposition is not a plea for friendship but a pragmatic appeal to shared interests: both sides want a world without tyranny, violence, or hate. He offers the Blood Guard’s weakness as a token of good faith, and Seraphine reciprocates by revealing Cressida’s army is in disarray. This exchange of vulnerabilities—each side exposing a strategic weakness—is the first step toward trust. Yet the tension remains palpable. Harrow’s immediate instinct is to shoot Juniper, and only Rune’s intervention—stepping in front of Juniper and revealing that Juniper forced her to break Harrow out of prison—defuses the situation. This act of revelation is itself a trust-building gesture: Rune exposes a secret that could damage her own credibility, but it saves Juniper’s life and forces Harrow to reconsider her assumptions.

The terrace scene demonstrates that trust between former enemies requires more than words; it requires actions that prove one’s intentions. Gideon’s willingness to sit at a table with witches, Harrow’s reluctant lowering of her weapons, and Juniper’s silent acceptance of Harrow’s hostility all contribute to a fragile détente. The breakfast that follows is a ritual of shared humanity—eating together, passing sugar, and acknowledging each other’s presence—that slowly erodes the invisible line. But the line never fully disappears. As Bart notes, “Even if it were possible to steal the Good Commander’s army from under him and then crush Cressida’s, why would anyone believe we wouldn’t return to hating each other?”

Trust Through Sacrifice: The Whipping and the Wedding

The novel’s most profound demonstration of trust comes through sacrifice. In chapter 64, Gideon learns that Rune’s back was flayed to the bone—whipped by Cressida for defying her to break Gideon’s curse. This revelation transforms Gideon’s understanding of Rune’s loyalty. He had assumed her distance was coldness; instead, it was the result of near-fatal injury sustained on his behalf. Rune’s sacrifice is not a calculated gesture but an act of love that she kept hidden, fearing it would be seen as manipulation. When Gideon realizes his dream of Rune in his bed was real, he understands the depth of her trust—she came to him in her most vulnerable state, seeking comfort despite knowing he might reject her.

This sacrifice is echoed in the epilogue, where Rune and Gideon’s wedding is marked not by rings but by casting scars. During their vows, Rune casts two spells: one for speaking the truth, and another binding them to their words. These scars are permanent, visible marks of their commitment to honesty and fidelity. The wedding is officiated by Antonio, a former enemy who has become an ally, and attended by both witches and non-witches. The scars symbolize that trust is not a fleeting emotion but a physical, lasting bond—one that requires both parties to be bound to their promises.

The epilogue also shows the political culmination of trust: Rune is elected to the House of Commons, with six witches and seven non-witches serving together. This is the institutionalization of the trust built on the terrace. Yet Rune’s anxiety about disappointing her constituents reveals that trust remains fragile even after it is established. She fears that the real Rune Winters—the witch, the former Crimson Moth—will not be accepted. Gideon’s reassurance, “You’re the opposite of disappointing,” is not a dismissal of her fear but an affirmation that trust is sustained through ongoing support.

Character and Symbol Connections

The theme of trust between former enemies is embodied in several characters beyond Rune and Gideon. Harrow and Juniper’s relationship is a microcosm of the larger conflict: Harrow was imprisoned by Juniper’s parents and left to starve, yet Juniper later forces Rune to rescue Harrow. Their reconciliation is tentative—Harrow lowers her weapons but does not speak to Juniper—yet the fact that they can sit at the same table is a step toward trust. Seraphine, a witch queen who once served Cressida, becomes a trusted ally to Gideon and Rune, even sacrificing herself to join the Ancients. Her final act of trust is telling Rune that Kestrel would be proud, acknowledging Rune’s growth.

Symbols reinforce the theme. The Crimson Moth, Rune’s alias, represents her hidden identity and the need for trust to reveal one’s true self. When Gideon learns to see Rune beyond the Moth, he begins to trust her. Cressida’s brand and the true love’s curse symbolize the destructive power of forced loyalty versus voluntary trust. The curse, which Gideon suffers, is broken only when Rune defies Cressida—an act of trust that costs her nearly her life. Dawn’s Aria, the song Alex wrote, serves as a reminder of the past that both Rune and Gideon must reconcile; Rune’s promise to deliver Alex’s message to Gideon is a final act of trust that bridges their grief. Alex’s ring, which Gideon wears, is a tangible link to the brother he lost and the trust he once had in Rune’s innocence.

Complexity and Contradiction

The novel does not present trust as a simple solution to enmity. It acknowledges that trust can be weaponized. Gideon’s initial plan to betray Rune is a reminder that trust is often a prelude to deception. Even after they begin to trust each other, Rune keeps her identity as the Roseblood heir secret, fearing that Gideon would use it against her. This secrecy is a form of self-protection, but it also undermines the trust they are building. The novel suggests that trust is never complete; it is always conditional on the other person’s actions.

Moreover, trust between former enemies is complicated by systemic forces. The Blood Guard’s institutionalized witch-hunting makes it nearly impossible for Gideon to trust Rune without betraying his entire worldview. Similarly, witches like Juniper have no reason to trust patriots who have hunted them for years. The novel shows that individual trust can exist within a system of distrust, but it is fragile and easily shattered. The terrace scene’s “invisible line” is a metaphor for the societal divisions that persist even when individuals choose to bridge them.

Ultimately, Rebel Witch argues that trust between former enemies is possible but requires a willingness to be vulnerable, to sacrifice, and to accept that the other person might still betray you. It is not a one-time achievement but a continuous process, as fragile as the peace it enables.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does Rune’s decision to reveal her scars to Gideon in chapter 17 challenge or reinforce the theme of trust?

Rune’s revelation of her scars is a moment of vulnerability that challenges Gideon’s assumption that she is a “manipulative witch.” By showing him physical evidence of her past suffering, she invites him to see her as a person rather than a symbol. However, Gideon’s immediate reaction—calling her “a witch” rather than a girl—shows that trust is not instantly granted; it must be earned through repeated acts of vulnerability.

1. In what ways does the terrace scene in chapter 63 illustrate the difficulty of trusting former enemies?

The terrace scene shows that trust is hindered by past grievances and mutual suspicion. Harrow’s instinct to shoot Juniper, Juniper’s skepticism of Gideon’s motives, and Bart’s question about returning to hatred all highlight the deep-seated enmity. The scene suggests that trust requires a deliberate choice to set aside past wrongs, but that choice is never easy or permanent.

1. How do the wedding scars in the epilogue symbolize the nature of trust between Rune and Gideon?

The wedding scars are permanent marks created by truth-telling and binding spells. They symbolize that trust is not a fleeting emotion but a commitment that leaves a lasting imprint. The scars also represent the risks both characters take—Rune casts spells that bind them to their words, and Gideon accepts those bonds. Unlike traditional rings, which can be removed, scars are irreversible, suggesting that trust, once forged, cannot be easily undone.

1. What role does sacrifice play in building trust between former enemies, as seen in Rune’s whipping and Gideon’s reaction?

Rune’s whipping is a sacrifice she makes to break Gideon’s curse, an act that demonstrates her loyalty and love. When Gideon learns of this, he realizes that Rune’s trust in him was so profound that she was willing to suffer for him. This revelation transforms his perception of her and deepens his trust. Sacrifice, therefore, is a powerful trust-building mechanism because it proves that one’s commitment is not self-serving.

1. How does the novel complicate the idea that trust can resolve political conflicts?

The novel shows that while individual trust can bridge personal divides, political trust is more elusive. The epilogue’s House of Commons, with equal representation of witches and non-witches, suggests a fragile political settlement, but Rune’s anxiety about disappointing her constituents reveals that trust from the public is not guaranteed. The novel implies that trust must be continually earned through governance and action, not just declared. The lingering “invisible line” from the terrace scene persists in the political sphere, reminding readers that systemic change requires more than personal goodwill.