Wren didn’t know what she believed. But if not Vesria, there were no other logical suspects. The entire world had distanced themselves from the Danu-Vesrian wars, and their nearest neighbor was Cernos. That boy with the broken arm possessed magic—she had felt it crackle in the air when he struck her—and Cernosians, as a rule, did not. Besides, just as Heloise said, Cernos kept to itself. Ruled by an oligarchy of dukes, it was a largely atheistic nation and refused to bloody its hands with religious squabbles and land disputes. When it came to magic, all the technology and wealth in the world could not guarantee a casualty-free intervention.

“Who else would it be?” Wren asked tentatively.

“I don’t know.” Wren couldn’t ignore the doubt coloring her voice. Una was nothing if not unwavering, but before she could push, Una continued. “But my primary concern is my new assignment. Now that Cavendish has been reported missing, the queen hopes to find him alive and use him as leverage. If I’m the one to capture him, I’ll get back into her good graces.”

“A solid course of action.” Wren’s throat felt dry, but she managed to keep her tone positive. “And a dangerous one.”

“Don’t you start worrying about me again.”

“How can I not when you clearly have a death wish?” She grabbed her by the sleeve and tugged her closer. “No one has faced Cavendish and lived.”

“I don’t need to look at him to strike him down.”

Wren huffed in frustration. “Your pride isn’t worth your life. You can’t take this mission.”

Una yanked her arm back. “I can, and I will.”

“Una, please.” Desperation crept into her voice. “Do you know how hard this has been for me? Every day, I open the paper and pray I don’t see your name. I worry enough about you going missing. Now you’re telling me I have to worry about you getting killed by the Reaper?”

“Wren.” Her voice was hard, unyielding. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t you?”

“No,” Una said, so firmly she startled them both. “This isn’t about my pride. It’s about you.”

“Me?”

“I told you before. I need you by my side.”

Something aching and fearful and familiar flashed in her eyes, so faint Wren wondered if she’d imagined it. But no, she hadn’t. She had never imagined that look. Not even on that one morning, when Una had told her never again as though the words were broken glass in her mouth. But then, as if realizing she’d slipped, Una blinked a cold edge back into her gaze.

Again the soldier. Again the girl with no weaknesses.