Page 62 of Down Comes the Night

Because I’m not sure I’m strong enough to go through with my plan. Because Byers still might be here. Because if you’re right, maybe I can finally prove myself to Isabel and Una.

“Because we want the same things.”

“Do we?”

“Justice for our comrades,” she said. “Peace for our countries.”

The look Hal gave her was lingering, searching. Wren still worried that he could see right to the heart of her anxieties, her disgrace. But if he saw anything there, all he said was, “Very well.”

“Her relief was immediate. “Then we should go to the east wing now.”

“Now?”

Wren bristled at the surprise on his face. “Yes, now. If what I sensed was real, our friends still might be alive. If there’s any chance we can save them, we can’t let it slip away. We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“Even if we do find them alive, what then? We’ve no plan and no escape from this place. Neither of us is in any state to run—or fight, should the need arise. I doubt they will be, either.”

Wren wanted to argue, but as exhaustion and the cool evenness of his voice settled over her, she couldn’t deny that he was right. Again. They couldn’t exactly flee into a blizzard. Hal wouldn’t survive it in his condition. Worse, that damnable contract she’d signed forbade her from going into the east wing. There was no telling what Lowry would do if he found her there, and the prospect of facing him alone—and confronting whatever horrors lurked in that cold, crumbling place—terrified her more than she cared to admit.

All she could think about was the sinister curve of Lowry’s smile when he said,Then it sounds like you ought to tread very carefully indeed.

“If you’re right and they’ve survived this long already, surely the danger isn’t imminent,” Hal added gently. “We’ll be of no use to anyone right now.”

“You’re right. Waiting a few days until you’ve recovered surely won’t make a difference.” It felt like a feeble, impotent wish, but what other choice did they have? Her magic and her intuition had misled her too many times before; she couldn’t risk both their lives on a hunch. “Besides, Lowry hasn’t harmed us yet. Whatever he has in store for us, he must be planning to act at this party he’s hosting.He’s waiting for something, or else hoping to make a spectacle of it. But we’ll stop him before that happens.”

She extended her hand into the tense, crackling space between them. After a moment’s hesitation, he accepted it. With that, it was done. For the first time in centuries, a Danubian and a Vesrian would work together. As much as it should have terrified her, the strength of his grip was a small comfort in the chaos she’d created for herself. Like the rest of him, his hand was smooth and unscarred and warm.

Untouchable, except to her.

Absently, Wren ran her thumb along the back of his palm. It wasn’t until she noticed his elevated heart rate and the distinctabsenceof his breath through the tether that she realized she’d even done it. Hal did not withdraw from her even when she raised her gaze to his. How terrible was it, she thought, to wonder how much closer he’d let her get?

Her mouth dried as his eyes drifted lower, and she dropped his hand. They had no time for whateverthiswas between them. Not when their mission had only two possible outcomes. Success meant preventing a war. It meant securing her position and finally knowing what happened to Byers—and why. Failure meant they might end up the fourth from each country to disappear.

Two more scraps of kindling for the war already sparking.

As late afternoon sun filtered through the window, Wren jolted awake to find herself curled up on an armchair she didn’t recognize. Her eyes were nearly welded shut with sleep and the collar of her nightgown was soaked with saliva. She’d clearly needed the rest, to have slept so soundly here of all places. With a contented sigh, she unfolded herself to the satisfying crackle of synovial fluid.

A ripple of unease spread from between her shoulder blades and settled, cold and buzzing, at the base of her skull.Someone else is here.

She turned over her shoulder and huffed in relief. Of course someone else was here. This was Hal’s room. He sat upright in bed with a peculiar, almost chastised, expression.

He averted his eyes and instead took great interest in the frost blooming like lichen across the windowpane. Had he been staring at her? Self-consciously adjusting her nightdress, she felt her ears began to burn.

“Good morning,” she muttered.

“Evening, I believe.”

Technicalities, really.

Wren went to his bedside and placed the back of her palm against his forehead. Beneath the hum of her magic, he wasn’t hot or clammy. His vitals were stable. He wasalive,and she was so giddy, she almost embraced him. Although she mortified herself with that unwelcome impulse, imagining his horrified reaction delighted her enough to excuse herself for it. “How’re you feeling tonight?”

“Better.”

“Good.” She cleared her throat. “Well enough to conduct an investigation?”

“Well enough to walk, at least.”

Wren took his hands to help him stand. Even uncertain on his feet, even with the exhaustion painted in gray beneath his eyes, he was striking—and so endearingly ordinary with his ruffled hair and the patchy stubble along his jawline.Not even the Reaper of Vesria can grow a beard,she thought with petty amusement.