Una groaned. “Please don’t cry. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”

“Goddess above.” Wren hiccupped a laugh. “Just sit there. Or hug me.”

“I’ll sit here.” Una, mercifully, pulled a handkerchief from her breast pocket. It hung between them like a flag of surrender, limp and white.

While Wren composed herself and blotted her tears, Una told her what happened while she’d been unconscious. With the evidence presented at a parliamentary hearing, Una and Wren had been pardoned of all the crimes levied against them. By nightfall, Vesria had sent their guarded gratitude for rooting out their soldiers’ abductor—and for Hal’s continued survival. The press, apparently, had slavered over the political drama of the past few days. Little else had been printed in the newspapers.

“So it’s really over,” Wren said.

“Yeah.” Una eased herself onto the edge of the bed. Silence descended over them, soft as a blanket of snow. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me, Captain Dryden?”

“No.” Una shot her a warning look. “I was just worried I would never get the chance to give you a better apology.”

“For what?”

“For trying to change you.” Una tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “All this time, I thought I was protecting you by telling you to be harder, colder. The world isn’t a kind place, and I…”

“I know, Una.” Wren rested her hand on her arm. “You did your best.”

“Did I? I was a bad commander to you. And a worse friend.”

“Don’t say things like that. I don’t care about any of that right now.”

“I’m not good at this,” Una grumbled. “Will you let me finish?”

“You’re absolved. Happy?”

“Yes.” Una smiled—one of her rare, cracked-ice smiles. “I’m happy.”

Wren leaned her head against Una’s shoulder. For the first time in a while, Una let her. “Me, too.”

And despite everything—the horrible, rain-drenched memories of the other night and the bone-deep chill she still couldn’t shiver away—she meant it. Magic coursed in her veins, sunlight gilded the room, and Una was here. There was nothing more she could want. Nothing but—

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Una said. “It’s about Cavendish.”

Oh. She sounded so grim. “What is it?”

“Parliament refused to pardon him. The best compromise the queen could get was to send him home and bar his reentry into the country.”

Wren’s heart sank. So it was too late to give him an answer. He was gone.

She managed a wobbly smile. “That’s great.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is. I’m glad he gets to go home. Everything can go back to normal now. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

“Because you cared about him.”

“I’m in love with him.”