Page 87 of Down Comes the Night

Wren remained silent.

“Oh, very well. Shall we reframe the discussion?” He leaned forward. “You’re a woman of the Goddess. Tell me, why do you suppose your people were blessed with magic, while mine were leftto wallow in our ordinariness? Why has the Goddess abandoned us, whenweare the civilized ones?”

“I thought you weren’t interested in your father’s work,” she said bitterly.

Lowry laughed softly. “I’ve a curious mind, Ms. Southerland. His death has left me with so many questions.”

There were countless answers she could give, theological and scientific alike. Wren, however, knew that magic was little but a genetic anomaly. Fewer than 10 percent of the global population possessed it. But she was in no mood to debate or play games. Besides, she knew the answer, as plainly as she knew the answer to why Isabel hated her. It was the kind that would never satisfy or heal. Knowing did not bring understanding, and it would never bring his father back.

He had no magic because nature had coldly decreed it. No more, no less.

“You already know the answer, my lord. A common trait of Cernosian people is the suppression of genes that produce usable magic. It’s inert within you, like an engine with no fuel. It always will be.”

“Come now. That’s a politician’s answer if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What do you want, Lowry?” Wren growled.

“Your professional opinion.” He rose from his chair, crossing his arms behind his back and turning to the window. Frost bloomed like mold across the glass, and beyond, a row of dripping icicles hung like incisors. “With science, is there hope for us to compete with the likes of you?”

Horrible understanding began to dawn on her. More than anything, she wanted to sayno.No, no, no. Most mages possessed broad-reaching abilities: the ability to change their bone density, the ability to thicken the collagen in their body, or to affect the regeneration and death of cells. Without an innate ability to manipulate the energetics of the body, there was no means to manipulate cells, the scientific explanation for what they called magic. Unless Lowry intended to replace every bone, every tendon, everycellin his body, it was impossible.

“It’s something you’re born with. It’s not something you can build like one of your machines.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Was it overuse or anger or fear making her hands tremble? She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to consider the ethical and ontological implications of such a thing. “Theoretically? Maybe.”

“Maybe?” When he turned toward her, the firelight peeled back his face. For a moment, she saw him as he was in that strange, soldierly portrait. His eyes looked black and depthless andhungry.“Well, thank you for indulging my fancy.”

“The ball is tomorrow,” she said lowly. “I am no fool. You don’t plan to reward me for healing him.”

“While you’ve disobeyed me, Idoplan to present you as my liaison, exactly as I promised. I’ve even secured the queen’s support of your new position.”

Wren’s breath hitched. No, that couldn’t be true. He was only manipulating her again. The queen would never reinstate her—not for anything. “You’re lying.”

“On the contrary.” He pulled a cream-colored envelope from his breast pocket, on which the official royal seal, although broken, was stamped in silver wax: a full moon flanked by a waxing and waning crescent. Lowry extended the envelope to her. When she didn’t take it, he smiled like the slow bleed of a wound. “Ah, you silly, paranoid girl. You think there’s a catch. I’m a man of my word. All I ask is you attend the festivities, as there’s someone I’d like you to meet. After that, you’re free to go home. You and I will be in touch, of course, about political affairs.”

Lowry always honeyed his promises. Even if Isabel had approved her position, even if it wasreal,it was nothing but a gilded fetter. Marionette strings to dangle her from. She’d depend on Lowry and his mercurial favor for the rest of her life. What other horrors would he force her to endure to keep it? “And if I refuse this new position?”

“I withdraw my support of you,” he said simply, almost pleasantly. “I’ve been very patient, Ms. Southerland, even as you’ve broken my trust. Don’t push me any farther.”

A surge of heat tore through her. It darkened the corners of her vision, set her every nerve ablaze. Never had she felt something so powerful, so poisonous.

Hatred.

Wren took the envelope from him. “I understand.”

“Good.” He straightened his lapels. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. That corpse is going to cause quite a stir if I don’t move it.”

“I thought you liked scandal,” she muttered.

He looked affronted. “Ido. But this, I’m afraid, requires a bit more subtlety than I’d otherwise like.”

He absently wound his golden key on its chain, tighter and tighter. As it spun, its surface reflected the light again and again. It would be so easy to reach out and take it.

But then what? Her magic lay still and quiet within her, and although Hal’s knife pressed cold against her thigh, she still was too much of a coward to use it. Her hands trembled with restraint, and when she lifted her eyes back to his face, he was studying her like she was a creature that might bite if he turned away.

“Until tomorrow,” she gritted out.