“Make a sound. I dare you. I’ll make that broken arm look like a joke.” It was an empty threat, but he went deathly still. She jerked her chin at Hal. “Do you know who that is?”

He glanced up at Hal—then gasped and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Y-yes.”

So this is what he endures, she thought. So much fear.

The boy was trembling, and Wren tried not to draw a vicious satisfaction from it. She understood now why Una had left him to suffer. Byers was gone, and the only guarantee at justice she had was this. Hurt for hurt, blood for blood.

“Do you care to explain why you’re threatening children?” Hal was looking down at the cowering boy, his features softening with weariness.

“This child,” she said, “is the cause of my disgrace. Una and I caught him documenting patrol routes in Danu. And here he is, hiding away in a property owned by Alistair Lowry.”

Hal’s expression darkened.

“I can explain! Please!” As if he’d remembered her order not to make a sound, he slapped his hands over his mouth.

“I hope it’s a good one. If I find out you’re lying—”

Hal cut her a sharp look that soured her stomach with shame. “You’re frightening him.”

He crouched beside the boy, who shrank away from him with his eyes screwed shut. In this heavy, predawn silence, all Wren could hear was the anxious chatter of his teeth.

“I won’t hurt you.” Hal’s voice was mild, almost paternal. “I only want to talk.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“There’s no good reason to.” Hal reached out and retrieved a piece of firewood. “But you may find me surprisingly reasonable.”

The boy did not answer at first. Wren felt her patience come undone to the clack of wood as Hal gathered it into his arms. This boy held valuable information. In himself, he was enough to damn Lowry. But Hal was treating him so tenderly, it was almost frustrating. When he’d retrieved the last of the firewood, he pressed it into the boy’s hands. Slowly, hesitantly, the boy dared to meet Hal’s gaze. His lip quivered, but after the first experimental second, all the tension flooded out of him with a whimper.

“Alright?” Hal asked gently.

The boy nodded.

“Let’s sit.”

Wren gaped at Hal in astonishment as the boy headed glumly toward the fireplace; he only met her with a faintly self-satisfied smile. Checking his shoulder, she brushed past him and sank miserably into an armchair. The boy knelt beside the fireplace, meticulously stacking the wood in its iron rack. The concentric whorls of the cut ends watched her like widened eyes.

Hal took his own seat. “What’s your name?”

“Will.”

“Will,” he repeated. “Can you tell me what you were doing in Danu?”