Isabel, however, remained impassive, as if she’d disassociated entirely from what she was witnessing. “I am the queen. I must do nothing at your behest.” Isabel lifted her chin. “You abandoned me, betrayed me. Just like the rest of this country.”

“I haven’t left you! I’m trying to help you. How can you not see that Lowry is using you?”

“Are we still on this old song and dance?” Lowry reached into his breast pocket. “I’m afraid my patience has run out.”

He unsheathed a small knife, serrated as a jawbone. Wren didn’t have time to scream before he grabbed a fistful of Una’s hair and drew the blade across her throat. Una’s eyes stretched wide. Blood gushed from her neck. It burbled over her lips and splattered on the ground with a steady drip, drip, drip. Lowry let her go, and she collapsed in a heap.

“No!” Wren’s shriek was feral, half drowned by a sob. “Isabel! Please, do something!”

Isabel stood frozen. Her face was ghostly white as she stared down at the girl at her feet. Una looked so broken and small as the puddle of blood spread around her, staining the hem of Isabel’s gown. Isabel’s lips soundlessly formed the shape of a word: no.

Lowry raked a hand through his hair and shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. His fingers broke his curls into a frizzy black halo. “I haven’t cut anything major, but do act quickly. It would be a shame to have her bleed out because of your indecision.”

“I can’t! It’s gone. Please. My magic is gone!”

“For your friend’s sake, I suggest you find it,” he hissed.

Una was drowning in her own blood. It was spilling so fast—too fast. It sank into the pores of the stone and slickened the floor with brilliant red. Wren had to do something. She couldn’t lose another friend.

She couldn’t lose Una.

Una’s eyes, matte and lightless, met hers in a warning. She couldn’t speak with that wound, but she’d never needed to when it came to giving orders. The meaning in her glare was clear: Don’t even think about it.

But Wren had to think about it.

I don’t want to decide who lives and who dies. Wasn’t that what she had told Una all those weeks ago? How could she tally up the value of lives like this? How could she weigh her love for Una against her love for Hal? Her heart against the lives Lowry would take once he had Hal’s magic?

Lowry dropped the knife into the spreading pool of blood. His eyes were wide and wild as he approached her. His boots stuck to the floor with every step. “Make. Your. Decision.”