Page 17 of Down Comes the Night

“I can’t be with you if you don’t come back,” Wren said quietly.

Una heaved a weary sigh. “I’m not going to die. I know this has been hard for you, but be reasonable.”

I know you want more from me.

Wren drew in a shaky breath. Deep down, she knew Una was right. Still, she ached for more: more support, more sympathy, moreanything.Anything to let her know Una really cared, that she valued Wren’s feelings. But asking Una to discuss things likeemotionswas as good as asking her to carve open her own chest.

“I don’t want to fight with you right now,” Wren said. “We can talk about this later.”

Una looked incredibly relieved—and also incredibly tired. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

They walked until they arrived at the wrought-iron gates of the North Tower. Both of them lingered, clearly dwelling on the things left unsaid. Snow clumped thick in Una’s hair now, a crown of sparkling white, and Wren thought she might not mind if they stayed frozen here forever.

Una broke the silence first. Wren half expected another harsh rebuke, but when she spoke, Una sounded tentative and almost gentle. “I’ll visit you before I leave.”

“I’d like that.” Wren paused. “Don’t wait too long. I missed you.”

Una didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she removed three gleaming black cuff links. As she rolled up her shirtsleeve, she revealed the long, muscled line of her forearm. And there, pale against her skin, was a scar. “I found the medic on my last mission lacking.”

Gasping, Wren grabbed her arm and inspected the new shiny band of tissue. Not that it mattered cosmetically, but any healer worth their salt could close a wound without leaving a scar. “Why would you tell me that? Now I’ll worry more!”

“I’m not trying to worry you. I’m trying to tell you you’re missed.”

Wren scoffed. “By whom?”

“Me.” It was nearly inaudible.

“A confession! Extracted under duress, judging by that tone, but I’ll take it.” Wren checked her pocket watch. Five minutes until her meeting. “I have to go.”

“What’s your meeting about?”

Wren felt for the letter in her bag. “My reinstatement.”

Una frowned. “Remember what you promised me.”

“Nothing reckless. I know.” Wren lowered her eyes. “And you?”

“I’ll come back to you.” Una gave her a wry salute. “Try not to worry so much. I leave in a few days. I’ll stop by the abbey before then.”

And with that, she was gone.

Today, Isabel’s pale hair was ornately fashioned. It was braided around her head like a crown, woven with tiny white flowers and shiny silver ribbon. She looked divine and impossibly sleek, not a single strand out of place. Not a single imperfection, no matter how hard Wren looked.

She couldn’t help noticing the details, for she’d been standing at attention for almost ten minutes while the queen read an interminably long document. Through it all, Isabel wore a faint, self-satisfied smile. The Paper Queen had consented to a rare meeting, but far more than punctuality, she appreciated torture. Every rustle of the pages sliced into Wren’s patience, her pride. Everytickof the Tower’s clocks rattled her bones.

Nose still buried in her report, Isabel said, “Sister Wren.”

Wren startled, but recovered by dropping into her most obsequious curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

“Your calling on me was timely. I have good news for you.”

Wren tried to quell her stubborn glimmer of hope. There was no way Isabel would actually restore her position so soon after hersuspension. Wren clenched and unclenched her fists to work the blood back into her fingers and braced herself for the worst. “Good news?”

“I’ve been thinking about what to do with you. You have been surprisingly patient.”

Surprisingly.Wren’s lips twitched in annoyance. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”