“While your war has never touched my homeland, it took my father from me.” Lowry’s eyes grew wistful. “And I am so tired of death. Allying ourselves with Danu is the best chance we have to cow Vesria into stopping the atrocities they commit. Some might call it reckless to declare a side now, but what can I say? Someday, as the rest of the world catches up with our technology, we will be forced to choose. And I’m nothing if not pragmatic. When night falls, I won’t be the one left alone in the dark.”

It was a wise strategy to align himself against a common enemy. And also wise, she thought, to capture and poison their future leader.

“What’re you thinking, my dear? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Pardon me, my lord. I was only thinking about Henry.” Wren peered into her coffee, watching her pale reflection shatter again and again on its surface. “I haven’t been sure exactly how to bring it up to you. I’ve uncovered the strangest thing about his illness.”

When she looked up, Lowry had gone impossibly still. “Did you really?”

“It responds poorly to magic,” she said, taking a sip from her cup. “If it were viral or bacterial, I could’ve encouraged his immune system to push it out by now.”

For one moment, Lowry adopted his usual wide-eyed perplexity. But then, as if he thought better of it, he discarded it like a tired old coat. Laid bare like this, he radiated a jittery energy as he leaned across the table. “How unusual. What do you plan to do?”

No warmth. No humor. Only those eyes like ice, boring into hers. She stood on the surface of a frozen lake, one misstep from slipping under.

“I’m currently experimenting with medications. His condition is still precarious, but I have him stable.”

“I see.” As he placed his cup down, candlelight thickened on the coffee’s surface, painting it red as blood. “Then it sounds like you ought to tread very carefully indeed, Ms. Southerland.”

“I’m always careful, my lord.” Wren met his gaze evenly. “We have an agreement.”

“That’s what I like to hear. When this is all over,” he said, each word deliberately and artificially pleasant, “I shall have to write to the queen about how well you’ve done.”

Wren stilled. She knew a threat when she heard one.

But before she could stammer out a response, the grandfather clock gonged.

“Midnight already.” Lowry clapped his hands, snapping back into his usual character. “My, how quickly time passes in good company.”