Somehow, they’d done it. Now all she had to do was find the queen.

“Have you discovered the dark and terrible secrets of Colwick Hall?” a voice said.

Wren turned sharply to see a shape in the darkest reaches of the room. Candlelight glimmered on a fine cloak encrusted with jet like mussels on a dock.

Lowry.

He strode forward, carrying a candelabra. Painted all in stark orange and black, he looked like a thing half-made in fire. Chills erupted over the back of her neck. She’d known the dosage was smaller than usual, especially with alcohol in play, but he still shouldn’t be conscious.

He shouldn’t be here.

“How?” was all she managed to spit out.

“Chloral hydrate,” he drawled. As he took another step toward her, the firelight snagged on a flash of metal. In his other hand, he held a knife loosely at his side. “Potent stuff—or at least it used to be. I began taking it years ago for insomnia.”

Hal nudged Wren behind him. “Find the queen. I’ll handle him.”

Lowry clucked his tongue, setting his candelabra on the floor. “You’d not be so hasty if you realized how thoroughly ensnared you are. How easily I could sink you both.”

Every logical part of her begged her to listen to Hal, to run. But the hateful sight of Lowry, so smug … Just once, she wanted to see genuine fear light his eyes. Just once, she wanted him to know he’d lost. She wanted to punish him for what he’d done to Byers.

Wren shoved past Hal. “No. You’re the one who’s sunk. You murdered my friend, and now you’re going to pay.”

“Am I?” Lowry raised his hands and drew the knife across the heel of his palm in one fluid motion. Wren sucked in a sympathetic breath through her teeth, but Lowry’s face remained entirely unchanged. Blood pattered on the stone floor, splashed his boots.

“Imagine, if you will, the Queen’s Guard stumbling onto this tableau. Poor, bumbling me cornered by the girl who betrayed her country and Hal Cavendish.” Lowry closed the gap between them and grabbed her elbow with his injured hand. “What kind of conclusion would they jump to if they found you covered in my blood?”

Wren tore herself away from him, recoiling at the smirk spreading across his face. When she looked down, her hands were trembling. Dark, hot red streaked her right arm from elbow to fingertips.

“It’s entirely plausible,” he continued. “You drugged me and attacked me. Once I give myself a wound far worse than this, it’ll seem a wonder that I was able to escape with my life.”

“Is that your plan? Still attempting to force my hand? You’ve gotten desperate.”