Even as he said it, Han realized that this might be his last chance to speak with Crow. The plan to break the siege had already begun to unfold. Their small army had assembled in the highlands and was descending toward the Vale. A handful of others waited for him at the foot of Gray Lady, where they would launch their attempted penetration of Arden’s lines.

“Go on,” Crow said.

“Here’s the short of it: the Ardenine Army has Fellsmarch Castle surrounded, with Queen Raisa inside. A second army of mercenaries is waiting outside the city.”

Crow eyed him, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with you? You look pounded, for some reason.”

“What do you mean, for some reason? I just said—”

“No, no, no.” Crow shook his head. “No matter how hopeless the situation, you’ve never looked discouraged before. Did something happen?”

There was no way Han was going to tell Crow about Raisa and Micah’s betrothal. Crow would tell Han to kill Micah, which was already too tempting as it was.

“Maybe I’ve finally realized there’s no way to win this. We need to get into Fellsmarch Castle somehow, past the army. We’ll be using glamours, of course, but I know they’ll have wizards on the watch, looking for that. If we can’t cause some kind of distraction, I don’t expect many of us will survive crossing the Vale. With our numbers, we can’t afford to lose anybody.”

“Why don’t you use the tunnels?” Crow said. “Or have they been blocked off?”

Han shook his head. “The tunnels will take us to Hanalea Peak, or to the foot of Gray Lady, but we need to get into the city.”

Crow’s expression said that Han was being rather thick. “No, I mean the ones under the Vale, that go from Gray Lady to Fellsmarch Castle.”

“There are tunnels that go to Fellsmarch Castle?”

“Well, yes, of course,” Crow said. “How do you think Hanalea and I escaped to Gray Lady at the time of our marriage? Did you think I used magic?” He snorted.

“I…I didn’t know how you did it,” Han confessed.

“How do you think we managed to keep our relationship a secret for so long?” Crow said. “There are too many eyes and ears in a palace—too many tongues wagging. The Bayars made sure I never got near the queen. And so, of course, I created my own path.”

Han recalled what Lucius had said, how Alger Waterlow and Hanalea ana’Maria had trysted in the rooftop garden. He had assumed that Alger was staying somewhere in the palace at the time.

“Where does the tunnel come out? At the castle end, I mean,” Han asked, a tiny flame of hope kindling within him.