Page 81 of Down Comes the Night

Drawing in a deep breath, she lifted the lid. Inside were petals in every blinding shade of deep purple and blue, swirled like a winter sky. Goddessblood. In that one crate, there was more than enough to sicken six soldiers and Colwick Hall’s entire staff.

“It’s not enough to make a case.”

Hal tossed the shipment records onto the low coffee table, startling her enough that she dropped her knife—Hal’s knife, really, that she’d borrowed without his permission. She was kneeling on the floor of their room next to the cast-iron radiator—an invention she’d wished she’d known about last night—basking in the heat and slicing apples to keep herself busy.

After escorting them out of the shipment room, Will had begged them again not to tell his parents. He had even pilfered some apples from the kitchen to secure their silence. It was a small, simple thing—but it delighted her. After eating nothing but rich food and gamey meats for two weeks in Colwick Hall, she’d desperately missed fruit.

Wren picked up the knife again. Juice dripped from its edge, warm as nectar in the firelight. Hal sat in an armchair beside her, his legs stretched long and crossed at the ankles. Limned in the golden glow of the hearth, he was the picture of contemplation, and Wren wanted to slice him in two with frustration.

“What do you mean it’s not enough? That”—she gestured to the files with the blade—“is concrete proof. Will’s existence proves there’s a connection between Lowry and the Danubian soldiers. And these records prove he had poison delivered to his door!”

“Since we can’t bring Will with us, we have no story but a nobleman with a taste for the macabre. There’s evidence enough already to corroborate that.” He took a sip from his mug of tea. “We need a victim. Or a witness.”

“I have you, don’t I?”

“You do.” The significant look he gave her sent her heart racing. “While Vesria may accept my testimony, Danu certainly won’t. We need a Danubian to present a compelling case to the queen.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Hal was right. They needed Byers. She’d sensedsomethingin the east wing the other night, but even if she could trust that feeling for certain, would he still be alive by the time they returned?

No.She couldn’t give up on him just yet. Whether it was a live victim or a body to autopsy, she could easily draw the connection between all these disparate pieces if she found signs of goddessblood poisoning in someone’s system. But even with her and Hal’s testimony and all the scientific evidence she could unearth, they were missing the most fundamental piece of the case: a motive.

Wren took another apple in hand, as thick and red as a heart. She sliced carefully into the skin until the knife struck the table with a dull sound. “That means we have to go back.”

“We do.”

“But we still don’t have any idea where the key is, and I don’t know how Lowry will react when he finds out we left. He made me sign an agreement that I wouldn’t leave without his permission, lest I face some horrible, undisclosed penalty.”

“Concerning,” Hal said neutrally. Then, ever helpful, he added, “That was unwise to sign.”

“Well.” She punctuated it with another decisive cut into the apple. “I didn’t exactly have many options at the time. I hadn’t met you yet.”

He seemed ready to deliver some retort. But then, finally realizing what she was doing, he blanched. “Where did you get that?”

“Oh, this?” She turned the knife over in her hands. “I took it from your coat while you were making tea.”

“That’s not what it’s for.”

“Oh, is it not?” Wren waved the point loosely in his direction. “I had no idea. Silly healers and our oaths of nonviolence! It makes a very good kitchen knife, all the same. Nice and sharp.”

He held out his hand expectantly, and she reluctantly gave it back to him. Absently, he wiped it clean with his coat sleeve, then inspected the edge as if concerned she’d dulled it. “You should know how to use one. It would make me feel better.”

“I don’t need to know how to use a knife. I know how to kill someone if I really want to.”

“Yes. I suppose that’s true.”

Hal set his mug down and slid off the chair to sit on the floor beside her. He took her wrist, turning it over carefully to bare the delicate skin underneath. Could he see her pulse thrumming under his touch? He placed the knife’s hilt in the center of her palm and adjusted her fingers into the correct grip. When she looked up, their mouths were only inches apart. This close, she could nearly taste the tea he’d been drinking on his breath. Bergamot and honey. He didn’t withdraw his hand. It settled warm over hers.

“Keep it,” he said. “Just in case.”

“This is absurd,” she whispered. “I can’t kill somebody. I’d freeze.”

“You’d be surprised at how easy it is.”

Wren imagined herself plunging a blade into Lowry’s heart. Imagined the blood staining her hands, red, red, red, and impossible to scrub clean. She shuddered. “No. Absolutely not.”

But if things went south, if they were outnumbered…

“We need your eyes.”