Page 83 of Down Comes the Night

“What’re you doing?”

Wren grinned, her fingers aching with cold. Then, she packed the snow into her palms, turned—“Think fast!”—and lobbed it at him. It struck him on the chest with a wet thud.

Hal looked at her as if she were the most insufferable person he’d ever met.

It filled her with an indescribable delight, fizzy and bright, like sunshine marbling the ocean. As she watched him dust snow off his jacket, it occurred to her that they could stay here. They didn’t have to go back to Colwick Hall, which almost certainly promised failure.

It would be so easy to simply… quit. There was too much at stake for so little chance at success. Without that key, they had no case. Without the case, neither of them could find redemption and go home. Somewhere in these mountains, the Guard lurked, waiting to collect on her bounty. At the estate, Lowry awaited with a sinister plan. If they wanted, she and Hal could find a future somewhere beyond this nightmare.

Before she realized she was speaking, she said, “We could run away.”

“Run away?”

“Think about it. Right now, no one knows where we are. Not even Lowry. We could take the nearest train off this Goddess-forsaken peninsula and go somewhere else. Anywhere else. We could start over where no one knows us.”

“Wren…” Her name on his lips, full of yearning, shattered the dream.

It was impossible. If they ran, war would break out. They’d let Lowry get away with his crimes. They’d never see home again. It was a foolish idea, as tempting as it was.

They weren’t children. They were soldiers.

For them, there could be no ordinary life, and no matter how far they ran, they could never outstrip their mistakes or their duty. Yesterday, Wren had almost lost every chance they had at finding Byers and the others. She wouldn’t turn her back on her comrades again.

“In another life, maybe.” She closed the window, and suddenly the room felt suffocating. “Or maybe when there’s peace.”

“Peace,” he echoed. “I’ve never allowed myself to think much of what comes after peace.”

“You’d better start thinking, Cavendish,” she said. “It’ll take a long time to undo three hundred years of war, and you can’t workallthe time.”

Past their window, pristine snow glittered like diamonds beneath the first break of daylight. To give the next generation a chance—no, to givethemselvesa chance to truly live—they had to go back. They had to stop Lowry, or die trying.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

They returned to a Colwick Hall in chaos. Nothing could have prepared Wren for seeing it, the vision of her naïve imaginings, the house she had expected when she’d first arrived nearly three weeks ago.

Throngs of bustling servants carried long strips of black silk and tablecloths, shining silver platters and glinting silverware, long coils of wire and boxes full of lightbulbs. As Wren and Hal wandered into the grand hall, they dodged between people wearing the livery of the major Cernosian noble families—no doubt they had been lent as a favor to Lowry after his staff had been sotragicallydecimated. The main staircase was polished to a syrupy gleam, and the balustrades that gated each landing were woven with copper wire and fragrant juniper and holly and crowned with metal lamps in the shape of a stag’s antlers. A blue electrical light blazed on each point. From her vantage point, she could look up and see the second-floor landing bedecked with silk and dotted with cocktail tables boasting centerpieces of evergreen and white catkin.

Once it was filled with music and guests, it would be spectacular.

As Wren made her way through the crowd, she bumped into Hannah. The other girl reeled back, nearly dropping her comically long to-do list. But as she realized it was them, all her startled exhaustion melted into relief.

“Hannah,” Wren breathed. “I’m so glad to—”

“I don’t have much time to talk. Follow me.”

Hannah led them into the drawing room and shut them inside, muffling the chatter from outside. The heavy curtains were drawn, letting in the late-afternoon sun. It washed over the parquet floor and suffused the room with a peculiar, sterile light.

“Is the Guard here?” Wren asked.

“No. They left yesterday.” She lowered herself into a chair, her expression nearly euphoric. She must have been on her feet all day. “I’m fine, by the way. Not at all harried. Not at all overwhelmed. I don’t suppose I could convince you reprise your role in the staff, Henry?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Alas. We’ve another day until the ball, but we’re still barely going to be ready.” Hannah sighed, restlessly folding her list into smaller and smaller squares. “I tried to cover for you both. I truly did. But Lord Lowry came looking for you. He’s… displeased.”

Of course he was. Wren hated that she was afraid. Since he needed them for something, Lowry wouldn’t hurt them. But that was exactly the problem. Over the past few weeks, Wren had learned there were things far worse than death.

“You did all you could.” Wren leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “I guess I owe you an explanation now.”