“I’m not the foolish girl you mistake me for. I will not be manipulated.” She lowered her voice. “You’re nothing but a coward. If you would place your own miserable life above your soldiers’, then you’re not fit to lead.”

“Are you finished?”

“No. I’m not. You say you deserted because no one would dispatch you, but that’s an excuse. You’re running, aren’t you?” Wren leaned closer. “I would run, too, if I had done the things you’ve done. But like you told me, there’s no running from that no matter how desperately you try. You’re not just a coward, Hal. You’re a monster, and the world celebrated when it thought you died. You will never be forgiven.”

Hal’s breath caught. She’d drawn blood again.

When he met her eyes, it was not with the hurt she expected. It was with resignation. As if she’d delivered a sentence he’d long ago accepted. This was not the Reaper of Vesria. He was nineteen and painfully mortal. And so … sad. What had she done? She hadn’t even meant half of that.

“I am a monster. I deserve your hatred.” Hal was as quiet and cold as a winter night. “The things I have done are unforgivable. I’ll face punishment for them, and someday, I’ll gladly submit to whatever your queen sees fit. But not until I find them.”

He let her hand drop, and with nothing holding her together, she trembled.

What was he suggesting? That he wanted to face trial for war crimes? That he wanted an end to their countries’ war? That all his reading, every evasion of discussing who he was on the battlefield, belied guilt? It went against everything she’d believed true about him. All her life, Hal was the specter of an enemy who wanted to destroy everything she loved. This was the first time she considered he might not want be to Vesria’s prized weapon. But hadn’t he already told her the truth in the morning room? He did feel. He did regret.

“What does Lowry have to do with any of that?” Wren whispered.

“I said nothing about Alistair Lowry.” Bitterness—maybe even hatred—twisted the sound of his name.

“No. I guess you didn’t.” But he had to be involved with this somehow if Hal was here. Wren crossed her arms as she studied the weariness seeping into his expression.

“I regret that I’ve been opaque with you. The plainest truth I can offer you is that I am afraid. I need you, but I can’t allow myself to depend on you.”

“I wouldn’t depend on me, either,” she said. Lately all she’d done was lie. All she’d done was betray her friends’ trust and hurt them. “I gave you my word, though. I’ll do my best to find an antidote.”