Page 10 of Down Comes the Night

“The only reassurance I can offer is my word. I will come back for you. Iwillset this to right.”

“Your word. What good is that?”

“You tell me.”

It meant everything. But it still wasn’t good enough.

Before Wren could respond, Una let out a long sigh, a rueful smile curling on her lips. “I told you I didn’t come here to make it worse. So much for that.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t keep you around to make me feel better.” Wren nudged Una’s knee with her own. “That’s what tea’s for anyhow.”

“Is that a request?”

“Oh, never! You’re my guest. But if you’re offering…”

“Fine,” she said gruffly. “I’ll make you a cup. Black? Why are you staring at me like— Ah, too late for caffeine. Right. Chamomile, then.”

Una moved through her kitchen as if she’d never been away. After almost a year, she still knew exactly where Wren kept the teas—alphabetized, by scientific name, in glass apothecary jars above her sink—and her favorite earthenware mug. The simple tenderness Una showed her in boiling water and measuring out tea leaves nearly destroyed her. It didn’t help that she still wore her full regalia; every time she reached into the cabinets, the medals on her lapels merrily jangled.

Wren really was too soft. And try as she might to stifle it, she was still a little in love with her commanding officer. The worst, most foolish of her feelings. A romantic relationship between a soldier and her superior would get them both court-martialed.

Last year, when the ink was still drying on the armistice, Knockaine became a strange and hazy place at night. Everyone wandered the streets like sleepwalkers. One of those nights, Una appeared on Wren’s doorstep, more fierce and hard-eyed than she’d ever been in the military academy. Sometimes, Wren convinced herself it was a dream: her back hitting the door, Una’s mouth on hers. But shestill remembered the exact iron-and-woodsmoke taste of her, the way the jagged scar on her shoulder felt beneath her lips.

Most of all, she would never forget the way Una looked at her the next morning. It still haunted her. Full of regret—maybe even fear. Of course she was afraid; fraternization was a dismissible offence. Beyond that, Una Dryden did not say the wordlove—not after the war took her family from her. And she most certainly did not talk about her feelings, so Wren was left alone with hers.

A mistake,they had agreed.Seeking comfort in the wrong places.

It would never happen again.

But sometimes, Wren still caught Una’s lingering looks. Sometimes, she worried about the part of her that had turned corrosive. The part of her that hadn’t forgiven Una, that still ached whenever she heard rumors about the civilian girls Una courted.

Una pressed the cup of tea into her hands, and Wren banished her dark mood with the sweet smell of chamomile.

“Thanks.” Wren smiled wanly.

“You still look miserable. Do you want to… talk about it?”

“Uh, no. I think you might combust if I unload all my feelings onto you.”

Una lifted an eyebrow. “Then at least this dump will burn with me.”

Wren shoved her. “Shut up. I just…”Just.It was never so simple. Her throat tightened. “I miss him.”

It was the first time she’d said it aloud, and the admission cracked open the wall she’d constructed around her grief. Memories of Byers fell through, scattered and sharp like the pieces of a dropped vase. His insufferable humming to himself while he worked. That obnoxious, boyish grin he wore whenever he thought he was being particularly clever. The way his eyes glowed with pride when he talked about his brother. Wren wanted their weekly pub nights back. She wanted to listen to him prattle on about the art of flower arranging, a family trade. She wanted himback.

Una cast her eyes to the rippled surface of her tea. “I miss him, too.”

A smile tugged on the corner of Wren’s mouth. “Do you remember that time he was late for morning drills?”

Una laughed, full and unguarded. The sound of it curled up, warm, in Wren’s chest. “How could I not? I can still see Sergeant Huffman’s face turning purple when she saw him try to climb through the window.”

Wren grinned. “He was a complete disaster.”

“You’rebothdisasters. It’s a true ragtag bunch military HQ assigned me.”

“Lovable ones?”

“Don’t get carried away,” Una muttered. “You’re a disaster, period. But mine.”