“Understood.” His eyes searched her face and, although it looked like he wanted to say something else, he settled on, “I’ll let you rest.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Good night.”

As soon as the door latched behind him, Wren raked her hands through her hair and tried desperately to dissect these bothersome feelings. He left her with something bubbling bright within her chest. And beneath it, something sour and strange. What she felt for Hal was more than attraction—far more than the familiar pull of the tether between them.

She admired him for his dedication to his cause. She liked the way he listened and the way he looked at her, like she was the first breach of sunlight on the horizon. He made her feel important. Like she mattered. Like she wasn’t entirely broken.

Goddess above, she was such a mess. Even if she chose to indulge herself, they could never be together. Besides, what good did this distraction do when their investigation was about to crumble around them? Staying here promised certain discovery. Leaving—and so blatantly breaking Lowry’s rules—promised something worse in its mystery. How much would he curtail their freedom? What horrific plan did he have in store for them?

With poison, Lowry had taken down six elite soldiers and kept them imprisoned here. In his prime, Hal might have stood a chance, but he had no magic now. They had no defense and no evidence. They didn’t even know where the key to that door was.

They had nothing but the hope they’d uncover something at the Guiding Light. And only a week and a half before the ball, presumably when Lowry would act against them. If they failed before then, a war would break out, and they would be dead.

Panic knifed through her. Desperate for a distraction, Wren returned to her desk to rummage for disinfectant. Shoved in the depths of the drawer was a slip of paper that crinkled under her touch. She pulled out a letter and scanned the messy handwriting.

The weather is far too dangerous to leave today, but we should be able to get you down the mountain two weeks from now. Meet at 0500 sharp. Stay warm.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Since she’d begun working with Hal, she’d nearly forgotten about the carriage she ordered. As if from the shadows, a voice whispered, It’s not too late.

It was too late. She couldn’t take Hal prisoner—not anymore.

Or could she? What was Hal Cavendish against everything she held dear? What was guilt against the certainty of survival, of redemption? She liked him, yes. Far, far more than she should. But she could not trust her own heart; she had wrecked herself in the storms of its desires time and time again.

You have to be rational, she told herself. Ruthless.