“I’m afraid I don’t believe that anymore.” Isabel narrowed her eyes. “These abductions are blatant acts of war, and we are without allies. When I muster forces to retaliate, I need my Guard at its best. You’re nothing but a liability. You have lost valuable information, and you have jeopardized lives. You may have my sister’s blood, but you have yet again proven yourself unworthy of it.”

Rage darkened the corners of Wren’s vision. Proven yourself unworthy. She had proven nothing, when her unworthiness was a decree from Isabel herself since birth. Shortly after her mother died, Isabel banished Wren to the abbey. A monarch who’d inherited a losing war, after all, could spare no patience or pity for her sister’s underfoot orphan. Barred from court and excluded from the line of succession, Wren knew very well that no matter how badly she craved acceptance, no matter how hard she tried or what she did, she could not scrub that stain off.

“Unworthy? And what of the rest of my file?” Wren asked. “Surely it documents more than my shortcomings. How many other surgeons do you have? Any two-bit medic can be a competent healer, but unless they have other skills—”

Una held out her hand, a clear command to stand down. “Please excuse her insolence, Your Majesty. Lieutenant Southerland is under my direct command. I accept full responsibility for her actions. Any punishment must be as much mine as hers.”

“Very well, then, Major. It’s clear to me now that Wren is a bad influence on you. Since your fondness for her is distracting you from your duty, I will remove her from your command. Wren is suspended from duty.”

Suspended. How easily one word could shatter her.

“What?” Wren choked out.

“I thought what I said was clear. I will not have you impeding investigations. You’re suspended until further notice.”

The knot of anxiety in her stomach went taut and snapped. The room was suddenly too hot, the injustice too much to bear. Wren slammed her palms on the queen’s desk. “No. This is absurd.”

Isabel only regarded her impassively, her thin lips set in a challenge.

“You cannot punish me for doing what’s right. Mistreating prisoners is not an example we should set for the world.”

Una grabbed Wren’s shoulder. It was a warning: Calm down before you make it worse. “Your Majesty, Wren and I have worked together from the beginning. I need her.”

“There are equally qualified healers who don’t let their feelings get in the way of their orders. War is coming. I need someone who is focused to support you in battle. Even one mistake will cost your life against someone like Hal Cavendish.”

Hal Cavendish. The Reaper of Vesria.

His name alone sent a shiver up Wren’s spine. In the silence of the room, she could hear Una pop her knuckles, her one nervous tell.