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Cole’s voice drops to a whisper, “If someone finds it, you tell them it was—”

Carlisle closes the gap between us. “You are needed, Captain.”

Cole leaves with Carlisle, glancing over his shoulder at me.Mine—he mouths.

Standing at the healer’s quadrant door, I pull in a shaky breath, terror threatening to lock my limbs into place. I’ve been gone far too long.

Pushing past my fear, I swing open the door. My gaze shoots over to where I last left my satchel on the counter. But my bag isn’t where it was earlier—it’s slumped on the ground.

I race over to it, crouch and pick it up, only to discover the flap isn’t secured.Fuck—did I not snap it closed before I left?

Atap, tap, tappulls my attention over my shoulder, and I swivel. Marge hobbles over to me and drops something onto the counter beside me. It lands with a soft slap, and a curl of dust plumes around it.

My father’s journal.

twenty

THE RIGHT QUESTIONS

I swallow back the knot collecting in my throat and narrow my eyes. “You went through my stuff?”

Marge stares me up and down. “Hardly, child. It fell off the counter. It’s a good thing I found it.”

I snatch the journal, press it to my chest, and twist my shoulders away from her view. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She’s already turned away from me, pouring a concoction on the counter into a glass bottle. Either she’s about to request a handsome bribe for her silence, or the King’s guard is already on their way, and she’s counting down the seconds until they burst in here and free her of me forever.

“Fire incarnate. Flame in flesh. Blood of power,” she whispers, her attention still fixed on transferring the liquid into the container.

I clench my hand tighter around the journal. “You…you liar. You did read it.”

She stops pouring, setting the bottle down and turning to lock eyes with me. “Keep slewing accusations, and I’ll turn you loose to the King himself, Katerina.”

“If you’ve already turned me in, it doesn’t matter.”

“I haven’t.”

“And why not? What do you want?”

She grins, pouring the rest of the liquid in the bottle before corking it shut. “I want to go to the Dragon Lands.”

The journal almost slips from my hand. Isthiswhat blackmail feels like? “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I would know that insignia anywhere.”

My eyes widen, and I absent-mindedly trace the symbol on the front. “You…you’re a rebel?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re not asking the right questions.”

“Well, what should I be asking, then?”

“Don’t you want to know what it was like? The world we live in today was not what it was. In fact, there was peace and freedom. There weren’t these attacks or high taxes. People didn’t starve to death. Diseases were treated with care, no matter your income or status. There was community, family, and love. For decades people have been trying to sneak out across the border, to go to the Dragon Lands—free from the King’s laws.”

She might as well have sprouted her own pair of wings and horns. I watch her with a gaped mouth. Maybe this is some sort of test. I not-so-subtly survey the room around us, looking for anyone hidden behind the cabinets or beneath the beds. I’m suspicious someone is lying in wait for me to agree before springing out to arrest me.

“Our King is…honorable and…kind. He rules for the benefit of his kingdom…” I stare at her. “You can be executed for speaking of the rebels and lands before.”

“And you can be executed for having a rebel journal. What are you doing with a rebel’s journal, Katerina?”