Page 131 of Down Comes the Night

“No.” Una shot her a warning look. “I was just worried I would never get the chance to give you a better apology.”

“For what?”

“For trying to change you.” Una tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “All this time, I thought I was protecting you by telling you to be harder, colder. The world isn’t a kind place, and I…”

“I know, Una.” Wren rested her hand on her arm. “You did your best.”

“Did I? I was a bad commander to you. And a worse friend.”

“Don’t say things like that. I don’t care about any of that right now.”

“I’m not good at this,” Una grumbled. “Will you let me finish?”

“You’re absolved. Happy?”

“Yes.” Una smiled—one of her rare, cracked-ice smiles. “I’m happy.”

Wren leaned her head against Una’s shoulder. For the first time in a while, Una let her. “Me, too.”

And despite everything—the horrible, rain-drenched memories of the other night and the bone-deep chill she still couldn’t shiver away—she meant it. Magic coursed in her veins, sunlight gilded the room, and Una was here. There was nothing more she could want. Nothing but—

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Una said. “It’s about Cavendish.”

Oh. She sounded sogrim. “What is it?”

“Parliament refused to pardon him. The best compromise the queen could get was to send him home and bar his reentry into the country.”

Wren’s heart sank. So it was too late to give him an answer. He was gone.

She managed a wobbly smile. “That’s great.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is. I’m glad he gets to go home. Everything can go back to normal now. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

“Because you cared about him.”

“I’m in love with him.”

Goddess, she was so foolish. Saying it aloud reopened the wound. Tears stung her eyes, but she breathed, long and even, until the worst of it subsided. She couldn’t cry over this. From the very beginning, she knew it couldn’t last. Even without a war to separate them, they each had duties they couldn’t abandon. She had to cherish what they once had, rather than cling to what could have been.

“I never got to tell him.”

“That’s tragic.” Una said it so flatly, so uncomfortably, Wren wanted to laugh.

“Maybe. But I’ll live.”

“Of course you will. He’s just a boy.” Una crossed her arms. “There’s one other thing.”

“More?Have some pity for my fragile constitution.”

“Your… aunt is here.”

“Oh.” The flood of emotion at the wordauntwas dizzying.

Wren flopped back against the pillows. She was exhausted, and everything was still too fresh, too raw. She didn’t know if she had the energy to cope with Hal’s departure and also survive a visit from the queen. As she opened her mouth to protest, her gaze fell on Una’s neck again, where the scar gleamed like a crooked smile. The very sight of it rocked her with a breathless wave of fear. If Isabel hadn’t been there…

Wren owed her at least the courtesy of an audience. “Send her in.”