I grimace. I always hated when my siblings called me that, and now it’s even more infuriating. How can she still think that’s true? I know I should keep my mouth shut—should be the mature one—but I’m getting sick of staying quiet while she gives me this attitude. Why does she have to be like this? Why does she have to make it so damn hard? I hoped this reunion would be a happy one, but instead I feel the same with my family as I did among my team: stuck on the outside.

Despite my better judgment, I open my mouth to say more—but Momma glances over her shoulder at us, and I shut it again. Scorpia and I both straighten up and go silent.

“Scorpia, go get the cargo,” Momma says.

“Me?” Scorpia points to herself, glancing between me and Momma, before getting to her feet. “Well, all right.”

Once she’s gone, Momma gestures for me to come over. Again, I obey, leaning close for her to whisper.

“Go outside and wait for Scorpia,” she says. “When she gets back, take the cargo and tell her to go back to the others.”

I pull back, staring at her. It seems I wasn’t the only one to notice Scorpia’s fidgeting—or maybe Momma’s been waiting for an excuse to get rid of her ever since we arrived. But why use me to do it? Maybe it’s solely because she doesn’t want to argue with her daughter in front of a client, but it feels needlessly cruel. I’ve seen the way Scorpia looks at me already. She distrusts me.

But I don’t have a choice. Not when my future is sitting in Momma’s palm. Maybe that’s what this really is: a test of my obedience. A test I need to pass, unless I want to risk being left behind again.

“Understood,” I murmur, and nod to her before heading outside to wait. I shut the door behind me.

Uncertainty flashes across Scorpia’s face the moment she rounds the corner and sees me waiting. Her steps slow, and she stops a few feet in front of me. Five small boxes are stacked in her arms. After Momma’s words, I’m shocked again by the size of them—could something so tiny really hold an end to the war?—but tear my thoughts away to focus on my sister instead. When I gesture, she grudgingly hands them over, and steps toward the door. I stand in her way.

“It’s time for you to go back to the others,” I say, forcing myself to meet her eyes and watch the shock and hurt flash across her face.

“What?” she asks. “You’ve got to be kidding. I didn’t do anything wrong. Why is she cutting me out?”