Wren reread the letter three times before she set it down.

This was her chance to redeem herself. Her chance to prove herself useful again.

If she secured Lowry’s support, she could stop this war before it even began. Isabel would have no choice but to recognize that Wren deserved her place on the Guard. With her position restored, she could be with Una again—if not as her lover, then as her right hand. That, she told herself, was enough. It had always been enough. It still stung that Una chose her career over them, but whatever love Wren could get was better than none at all. She would show Una she deserved it.

It was so simple. Cure a man’s illness, come home a hero.

And it was far, far too good to be true.

Heloise was right. Why would he write to her? Since the war had cleared out the Guard, Wren was among the more seasoned healers. And she possessed surgical skills and medical knowledge that surpassed most other medics, who focused most of their training on mastering the Touch. But his offer … It was too vague, too warm.

This was Lord Alistair Lowry III, whose fame came from his scandals, not his cunning. Even in Danu, everyone had heard about the time he had drunkenly vomited into the grand duchess’s lap at a dinner party, or how a jilted lover once burned his effigy on the lawn and ruined the Duke of Matthonwy’s birthday. She had her misgivings.

But if this was her one chance, she fully intended to take it. Then again, if she accepted Lowry’s offer and left without permission, she’d be court-martialed for desertion.

A crime punishable by death, at best.

Which meant she would have to go to the queen first. The very thought of facing her again made Wren want to crumble into dust. But this time, at least, she had leverage. Tentative hope bloomed within her. Isabel didn’t care a whit for her, but surely she’d set aside their grudge for the greater good. Lowry was offering them an alliance and military support, and Goddess knew Danu sorely needed both.

When I bring this letter to her, she’ll be pleased with me.

Wren ought to have shaken herself for entertaining such a naïve thought. But was it truly so foolish to hope? Lowry had reached out to Danu because of her—because he recognized her talent in spite of her failures. Maybe his acknowledgment would finally convince Isabel to see her worth, too.

Wren pulled a sheet of parchment from the drawer and drafted a request for an audience with the Queen of Danu. By the end of the night, she received a response, stamped with the royal seal in glittering silver wax.

1000 hours. Do not be late.

CHAPTER FIVE