“You should go back,” I say when Saengo glances over her shoulder for the dozenth time in as many minutes. “I don’t think you’re going to get out of penance this time.”

Saengo’s cheeks flush at the reminder that I’m the only one punished for our shared transgressions.

“It’s possible,” she says, sounding almost hopeful. “But someone has to watch your back. What are you planning to do when we get to the teahouse?”

“Take his place, of course.” Talon’s Teahouse is about a half day’s ride south, directly along Keistra’s Flight. We’ve got a head start. With luck, I’ll have whatever message Kendara wants from “the man with crossed swords” before Jonyah even catches up.

In the past, fellow pupils were known to either sabotage or eliminate one another to thin out the competition. Kendara herself had killed two of her competitors when she’d been in training beneath the previous Shadow.

For her own pupils, she’d chosen to keep our identities hidden. She disliked how the practice drew unwanted attention, especially when the dead pupil turned out to be someone of influence. She also preferred her pupils focus solely on their training and not on one another. However, she implied that should one of us expose ourselves, another pupil could capitalize on it. From Kendara’s mouth, it is all but permission.

But my concern is less about whether sabotage or interference is allowed and more about the repercussions.

The Queen’s Company is run far more rigidly than the Prince’s. The first time I spoke out of turn—a simple, honest question—the officit struck me hard enough to knock me off my feet. He’d wanted me to wear the shame of my disrespect on my face until it healed. After that, I quickly learned my place, for what little good that did. Students like Jonyah delighted in reminding me of their power, cornering me when I was without Saengo or spinning lies that would earn me all manner of penance.

Abandoning our posts, however, is a worse offense than anything Jonyah’s ever concocted. The Prince’s Company is compulsory for children eleven through thirteen, but continuing on to the Queen’s Company is voluntary. When I enrolled—at Kendara’s bidding—I committed myself to the service of the Royal Army and all the consequences therein.

If I’m not outright expelled and branded as a deserter, I will likely have my feathers stripped and my braid cut, demoted to a previous year.

But if I do nothing, then I will lose Kendara, and with her, my entire purpose. There is no punishment the Company can bring down on me that would be worse than that.

Stealing Jonyah’s mission is a dangerous gamble, but it’s one I have to take. I must prove to Kendara that I am the better choice. My entire future depends on it.