“I think so, too.” Wren stole a look over her shoulder at Hal. He walked just a few paces behind Una, his shoulders stiff as he gazed solemnly up at the ribbed ceiling. “I can only hope for the better.”

Heloise stopped in front of two doors. “You may stay here for now, but I want you gone by sundown tomorrow. May the Goddess keep you.”

“Thank you, Mother. I can’t repay you for—”

“Think not of it until this is over.” Heloise hobbled straight ahead, the steady thunk of her cane announcing each stride. “Good night.”

The three of them lingered uncertainly in the hall, attended only by the sound of fire whispering in torches. The air was redolent with the smells of smoke and frankincense. Una broke the uneasy silence first. “Try to get some sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow, and you look like you need it, Cavendish.”

“Yes.” Hal cut her an irritated look. “Your men made it quite difficult to sleep.”

“Good night!” Wren cut in brightly. “Sleep well.”

“Good night.” With a last, withering glare at Hal, Una disappeared into one of the rooms. Their journey to Vesria would be long—even longer with these two constantly sniping at each other. After everything they’d survived, they’d better not kill each other on the way.

When she turned over her shoulder, she caught Hal regarding her as if he wanted to ask her a question. Although his expression was soft, she could see his exhaustion. He wore it like the weight of a thousand years. Understandable, when he’d been sentenced to death only earlier today.

That was when it struck her. They’d escaped from the North Tower. They were fugitives. They were alive. He must have come to the same realization, because the air grew thick and magnetic between them. Moonlight filtered through the latticed windows like water through a sieve, washing everything soft and shimmery.

“This is impossible,” Wren whispered.

“It is.”

At first, neither of them moved, paralyzed by the weight of it. She worried that he would shatter if she touched him. She feared he would vanish if she so much as blinked. But she needed to make sure he was real. She needed to hold him. If not now, then when?

They stepped toward each other in unison, and all her hesitation evaporated. Wren flung her arms wide and latched herself around his middle. His warmth seeped into her, and she wanted nothing more than to drown in the comfort of it, the knowledge that he was safe and here with her. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Goddess above, Hal. I can’t … I was so…” What word could sufficiently capture what grief he’d put her through? Wren stifled a sob, caught somewhere between anguish and relief. “I never should have let you go through with that plan!”

“It went better than expected,” he offered. “I’m alive.”