“I don’t want success if innocent lives are the price. Besides, what kind of commanding officer…” Una shook her head, drawing in a deep breath. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you do this alone?”

Wren squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to hold back tears. “I don’t know, Una. They have him under constant surveillance of the Guard in the Tower, and it’s not like we can just waltz in there.…”

Or can we?

“I recognize that look in your eyes,” Una said dryly. “What’re you thinking?”

“You and I are the ones who captured him, which means we’re the queen’s favorites in everyone else’s eyes.”

“Right.”

“And you’re a Captain of the Guard.”

“Right,” she said, more hesitantly.

“Which means no one will question us if we visit his cell. It’ll be easy to get in, and as long as we time it right and disguise him, we’ll be able to walk out the front door.”

“That is the most absurd, incautious plan I’ve ever heard.”

Wren braced herself for rejection.

“But since his execution is tomorrow,” Una said, “it’s the only one we have.”

Wren let out a shaky breath. While they could easily clear the North Tower’s security checkpoints, she wasn’t as sure they could get out. If they slipped up, they would hang alongside Hal. While it was a sentence Wren was willing to face, she couldn’t ask Una to do the same. “This is far from guaranteed success. You’d really die for Hal Cavendish?”

“I would gladly see him hang. But for today, I will put aside my feelings and tolerate his existence. What matters is the truth and the greater good. But you seem to think he’s worth saving for his own sake.”

“I wanted to hate him. I did hate him.” Wren lowered her gaze. “But then I got to know him. He’s patient and perceptive and … good-hearted, deep down. Nothing can ever change what he did, but he wants to make things right. I have to put my faith in him and believe there’s another path for Danu and Vesria.”

“And what is that? Without justice, we have nothing.”

“Justice got us here. Justice will kill us all.”

“So what do you propose instead?”

“Forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?” Una scoffed. “That’s a pretty thought, but we can’t change centuries of war. It’s in our blood now.”

“Dialysis, then. One person at a time.”

“Impractical as ever.” Una laughed tonelessly, a broken sound that resolved into a sigh. “I’m sorry, Wren. I really, really am.”

In the end, that was what broke her. Those quiet, childlike reallys.