“A child,” Una scoffed. “You’re too soft on him. He’s about as old as we were when we were recruited.”

“Be that as it may, his arm is going to get horribly infected.”

Sunlight glinted off the saber on Una’s hip, and for one horrible moment, the hilt looked wet with blood. “Good. Maybe that’ll loosen his tongue.”

Wren let out a startled laugh at how infuriatingly typical Una was being. “Forget it. I don’t care about him right now. I care about you. I wanted to check on you, since I know this mission has been … difficult.”

“It’s been long. I just want to get this over with.”

Avoidance. The most effective tool in Una Dryden’s armory to keep everyone at a carefully measured distance. Wren wanted to remind her it was only the two of them out here, but pushing a mountain would prove easier. They each dealt with their grief in their own way, and Wren would respect that—for now.

Because if she were being honest, she didn’t know if she could bear to talk about it either. She wasn’t ready to admit she had anything to grieve.

Last month, Sergeant Jacob Byers—her only friend besides Una—had gone missing. One day, they were bickering over normal things, like whose turn it was to buy dinner when they stayed late at work, or which of them would file Una’s paperwork. The next, he left on a routine patrol of the border they shared with Vesria and Cernos. Thanks to the cease-fire, those missions were supposed to be formalities. He was supposed to come back within the week.

He never did.

In her darker moments, Wren wished she had been with him on that patrol. Maybe it would’ve been her instead. Maybe if she’d seen something—a shred of his uniform or his knife forgotten in the snow—she could mourn him properly. But she refused to believe he was dead. Until she had answers, she couldn’t lay him to rest.

This prisoner—this boy—did nothing to assuage her. With his coltish limbs and streaming nose, he hardly looked capable of petty theft, much less kidnapping.

“Are you alright?” Una asked, jarring her from her thoughts.

No, she wanted to say. Instead, she said, “I am.”

“Really?” Una drawled. “Just a minute ago, you looked like you wanted to strangle me with those chains.”

“And why ever would I want to do that? You’re always perfectly agreeable.”

Una barked out a laugh. “Now I know you have an agenda. Out with it.”

Wren considered changing the subject; it was so rare to get a smile out of Una these days. But she had to secure the boy’s safety before she could let herself relax. “Let me heal his arm. At this rate, you’ll have to interrogate his corpse. His wound is going to go necrotic before we reach Knockaine.”