Page 60 of Down Comes the Night

Deep down, she knew Hal Cavendish was not what the world thought him to be. He had done horrible, unforgivable things. But so had her friends. Maybe the only difference between a monster and a hero was the color of a soldier’s uniform.

As she smoothed the hair back from his face, Hal opened his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. “Hi,” she whispered. “The worst of it is over. You’re going to live.”

“Over?” he asked hesitantly.

“I found an antidote. You should be on the mend in a few days.”

“Thank you.” The space between them grew softer as relief swept over him. Gratitude still made her feel a little off-kilter. Especially when he was looking at her likethat. Warm and golden, like sunlight on her face and honey in her tea.

“It’s nothing.” She stood abruptly, cursing the rising blush on her face. “Healing is my duty.”

Unwelcome memories of a boy with a broken arm flickered behind her eyelids. Of Una, holding her wrists painfully tight as she growled,Your compassion is sorely misplaced. It will get you killed someday.

Healing was her duty, but performing it had once cost her everything. Wren closed the blinds with a decisive snap, unsure of what to do with this strange, fluttery sensation in her stomach. It was almost pride—and more troublingly, relief. What a wasted emotion, when she would soon deliver him to his executioner.

“I owe you answers,” Hal said.

“Yes.” Wren perched on the edge of his bed. “You do.”

Hal shifted to the side. Giving her room or putting distance between them, she couldn’t be sure. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything. Let’s hear your wild theory.”

Hal drew a deep, resigned breath. “I only noticed the pattern after my third subordinate went missing. They were always taken during patrols of our border with Cernos. It was so targeted, I couldn’t help but feel it was a summons. When I approached the magistrate with my concerns, he dismissed me. Between war preparations and the upcoming election, he was unwilling to waste resources on speculation. He claimed Cernos had neither the means nor the motive to do such a thing.”

“But Danu did.”

“Yes.”

Of course the magistrate believed that, just as Isabel believed it was Vesria. After so many years of antagonism, it was the only logical explanation. “He claimed we were trying to weaken your army before war broke out. Didn’t he?”

Hal thinned his lips. “Yes.”

How foolish they all were. How blinded by their hatred. Someone was kidnapping soldiers, but even if it made little sense, they were so eager to blame it on each other.

“And why didn’t that satisfy you?” Wren asked.

“Because it was improbable. Because I don’t want another war.”

“You keep saying that.” The harshness of her voice faltered. “And I believe you. I almost want to believe what they say about you is a lie, but Isawit. How could you have changed so much?”

“What’s done is done. I can’t change that. But I can do everything in my power to ensure no one like me exists again.” Hal lowered his eyes. “I’ve come to hate what I can do. I remember all of them—every person I have killed. I don’t know how much more death I can hold in my mind.”

His conviction filled her with a strange longing—almost admiration. It took strength to confront your mistakes, and even more to change. After so many infractions, she’d only continued on, reckless as ever. She’d run away from her latest failure.

“So what’d you do next?” she rasped.

“After some research, I discovered that Lowry owned the borderland territory and had recently acquired a property called the Guiding Light from the Duke of Matthonwy. I also learned his father was detained by a group of military police.” Hal frowned. “It wasn’t much, but it was the only lead I had. So, I left to pursue my suspicion.”

Wren still couldn’t fathom that he had simplyleft.According to the newspapers, his life was perfect. He was the shoo-in candidate for grand magistrate. Wren had seen the few photos of him and his father on the front page, fuzzy and indistinct in the glare of the Vesrian sun. Hal, haughtily frowning at the camera. His father, hand on his shoulder, beaming with pride.

He had everything she’d ever wanted—a family, respect, adoration. Yet he had walked away from all of it.

“I found little at the Guiding Light. Shipment records to Colwick Hall—but nothing that identified the contents.” He paused. “And here, only rumors. Everyone has a tragic story about a friend succumbing to disease. They also told me of Lowry’s increasingly strange behavior.”

“Like what?”

“Disappearing at odd hours and taking copies of the keys from the housekeeper. Barring off access to the east wing. Declining visits from friends. Strange stains on his clothes.”