Page 50 of Down Comes the Night

“What do you mean he doesn’t demand violence? How can that be true?” Wren asked impatiently. “You conquered Danu in his name. Violence shapes your whole society. The way you breed for magic. The way you train your mages…”

Hal, unruffled as ever, folded his hands across his stomach. “I don’t presume to speak for God, if he even exists, or for my ancestors. Regardless, I imagine we train ours the same as yours.”

“At least we don’t kill our own recruits,” she spat. “I’ve heard about the tournament in your academy. That only the strongest half survive.”

The silence stretched uncomfortably between them.

At last, he said, “That would be very impractical.”

Wren’s righteous annoyance fizzled out. “So… that’s not true?”

“No.” Hal almost sounded amused through his confusion. “In my first days in the academy, we were told your healers could raise the dead. A profane magic.”

“That’s completely ridiculous.”

“I’ve also heard all sorts of grisly ways you enforce the Threefold Law,” he continued. “Taking three fingers from common thieves. Killing the children of adulterers.”

“Ridiculousandinsulting.”

“Exactly.” He tilted his head expectantly at her. “We’ve both grown up on lies.”

Lies.

She’d never exactly questioned all the horrible things she’d heard about Vesria—abouthim.Her lack of knowledge made her feelsmall, foolish. But he’d sobered after his initial surprise; he did not seem to judge her for it. “So, what? Next you’ll tell me it’s a lie that your people emerged like demons from the Otherworld in a cloud of black smoke?”

“That one is true,” he said solemnly.

“What?” she sputtered.

A ghost of a smile tugged on his lips.

Oh. He was… joking.

“Fine.” Wren crossed her arms. “Mock the uneducated Danubian. As if necromancy isn’t a preposterous notion.”

“There are other rumors in Vesria, equally preposterous. That Danubian women have special favor from the Goddess and can cast spells on hapless men.”

“I… I see.”

“Discourse that circulated in the early period of occupation, I’m sure. Fuel for paranoia and forced conversions. But it’s been revived lately in a curious trend of novels.”

Wren arched an eyebrow. “What are they about?”

“Danubian priestesses who bewitch Vesrian men and sacrifice them to the Goddess.”

Wren wanted to laugh, especially at the thought ofhimreading drivel like that. His eclectic reading habits were completely baffling. But a chill rushed through her as she thought about what she intended to do with him. Heal him. Earn his trust enough to subdue him. Bring him before the queen. Perhaps there was some truth to those rumors after all.

His eyes met hers, deep as a moonless night. Confusing warmth blossomed within her chest, unfurling into her fingertips. No one had ever looked at her like this—like she might be dangerous. She liked it. Especially coming from someone like him.

She rose from her chair and approached him slowly. “Sounds more like nonfiction to me.”

Hal shifted in his chair, quiet and apparently fresh out of jokes for the day. She loomed over him, close enough to see the blue of his eyes.

“So, how does it go in these stories of yours? Have I bewitched you already?” she asked, dropping her eyelashes. “Or is there some sordid ritual that comes first?”

The tips of his ears reddened. “I’m afraid I don’t know the details.”

“A shame.”