“So it is.” Hal settled back down beside her, disappointment and relief tangled in his voice.

The spell shattered. Her senses returned to her, and it felt like surfacing for air—painful but needed. Her vision shimmered, and when she dared to look at him again, he was sleeping lightly, the rise and fall of his chest reassuring her that he would survive the night. As she watched his peaceful expression, the knot of yearning in her stomach tightened again. This time, it was homesickness.

Hopelessness.

No matter what, things would never be the same. How could she slip back into her life as if nothing were different, when her perceptions of the world—when she—had changed? But she could worry about her feelings tomorrow. Her soul-deep exhaustion dragged her into the fold of sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The world came to her gently, the sun still slumbering beneath the horizon. With her limbs heavy, Wren almost believed she’d dreamt the last month, that she’d open her eyes to her own flat. But as she eased into consciousness, she found herself entwined with Hal.

No such luck for dreaming.

Although her first impulse was to shove him away, she let herself remain still in the languorous warmth of his embrace. His arm was draped heavily across her waist, and his breathing flowed soft and even over her skin. With her forehead tucked against his neck, she listened to the steady beat of his heart.

He was alive, and it was almost a miracle.

Wren wanted to preserve him this way: peaceful and boyish, sleeping with his jaw slack and his forehead smooth. As carefully as she could, she slipped his arm from around her and pried her knee loose from where it was wedged between his. No sooner had she extricated herself than he jerked awake, so surprised and bleary-eyed, she had to stifle a laugh.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

Although Wren yearned to stay pressed against him a little longer, warm and safe, restlessness had already crept into her bones. Byers still might be in Colwick Hall, but they couldn’t return without a guarantee they could find the key to that hidden door—or evidence convincing enough to indict Lowry.

This inn, however … Hal had told her Lowry had purchased it. She’d taken the goddessblood sample from its garden herself. Maybe it held the answers she sought.

“Rest a little longer. I’m going to take a look around.”

Hal looked like he might protest, but when she pulled aside the blanket and let the cold air in, he retreated deeper under the covers like a snail into its shell. “Alright.”