Hal cast her a sidelong look. “You were raised in an abbey.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or unnerved that you know that, but yes, I was. Case in point.”

“Did you not study scripture?”

“I did. But I didn’t do it because I wanted to. It’s like you said. The queen wanted me out of the palace and out of her sight. She resented me for my mother’s death. Said I reminded her too much of my father.” Wren absently rubbed at the pilling fabric of the settee. “I think my magic awakening was the greatest thing that ever happened to her. It gave her the perfect excuse to disregard my mother’s wishes to raise me in the palace.

“So, yes, I was raised in the abbey. But it wasn’t a normal childhood or some training for my greater divine purpose. It was like … a prison, or a holding pen. Something to overcome. But the abbess taught me everything I know, and I was always so absorbed in my lessons, so focused on leaving, I never really made any attachments. I never truly felt like I belonged.”

When she looked up again, he was watching her intently.

Her face heated at the realization she’d offered up some part of herself to Hal Cavendish of all people. But something odd stirred within her at his expression, a mixture of appreciation and shyness. He was actually listening.

“Sorry,” she said. “That was more than you asked for, I’m sure.”

“I don’t mind.” He replied more quickly than he usually did, startling her. Then, as if realizing his mistake, he paused to consider his next question. “So you don’t believe in the Goddess?”

“Certainly not how most people think of her.” She flexed her fingers. “How could a goddess of regeneration, who gave us this kind of magic, want so much destruction? I cannot believe the Threefold Law was meant to be applied this way. Your god, on the other hand…”

“It’s true that the old books say death pleases God,” he said curtly. “But just as yours have, it was politicians who warped that into what it means today.”

Wren hmphed her begrudging acknowledgement.

“Vesria’s God is similar to your Crone. A being that eases the passage into death—a mercy killer. Whereas Danubians believe souls return to this Earth, reborn, Vesrians believe they remain untouched by suffering forever after.” He seemed lost in thought. “All the same, neither demands violence for its own sake. Only for mercy, or protection. That’s what war should be for.”

“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…”