When I don’t continue, Samuel looks at me, his dark eyes glittering. “Did he know what it was?”

I shrug. “I don’t think he knew for sure. Instead of delivering it to the Commander, we took a detour the next day so he could hide it near one of his safe houses in the Wasteland.”

“Why not return it to Rowansmark?”

“And be late for his expected return to Baalboden?” I shake my head. “Have you met the Commander? He’d have been instantly suspicious, and in his eyes, suspicion is proof of guilt.”

“But later? On his next trip to Rowansmark?”

Something moves in one of the maple trees to my left. A bough shakes gently and the leaves shimmer in the starlight. I look to the right in case Samuel is watching me and hope the movement I just saw was Quinn.

“The Commander never sent him back to Rowansmark. He got suspicious—I don’t know how. Maybe he sent someone else to check in with Marcus and realized the tech had been given to my dad already.”

My next words are rushed as I try to distract Samuel, who is staring intently into the thick copse of maples.

“Anyway, Dad was supposed to go to Carrington, but he never returned. I went to find him—”

“You?” Samuel’s voice is sharp.

I curse myself for forgetting that I’m trying to seem harmless and inexperienced.

“Not by myself. The Commander sent me out with another Baalboden tracker because I knew where my dad’s safe houses were on the journey to Rowansmark.” I swallow against the sudden dryness in my mouth at the memory of Melkin’s dark eyes burning into mine while he demanded that I give him the package or he would take it from me by force. “And because I told the Commander that I’d seen someone give Dad a package on his last trip to your city, and that Dad hid it instead of bringing it back.”

“You said this even though you knew it would compromise your father in the Commander’s eyes?”

His words arrow through me, but what hurts worse is the approval in his voice. He thinks I’m like him. Like Ian. That I would sell out my loved ones for the sake of civic duty.

He’s wrong.

I told the Commander because if I hadn’t, he’d have killed me before I had a chance to escape the city and look for my father.

The soft thump-thump of flapping wings echoes from the tree where I saw movement. Seconds later, a small animal shrieks—a piercing cry of pain that’s cut off in seconds. I swallow my disappointment that the only creature inhabiting the trees near us is an owl. Quinn isn’t here. Yet.

Turning to Samuel, I say, “My dad didn’t steal from Rowansmark. He was used by the Commander and by Marcus McEntire. He died before he could make it right. How is it fair that I’m being punished for that?”

“You won’t be punished unless James Rowan decides your actions make you guilty.”

My laugh sounds wild and desperate. “Ian will punish me every chance he gets.”

“You will arrive safely in Rowansmark.” Samuel’s voice is stiff.

“Will Ian be held accountable for destroying my city? For murdering my best friend along with many of the other Baalboden survivors?”

“Ian will be held accountable for completing his mission.”

“For returning the controller.” I wrap my arms around my chest as a gust of cold, damp air shivers through the trees. “No matter how many lives he took to get it back. No matter that he’s using me as bait to destroy his brother, even though Logan hasn’t done anything wrong. Where is the justice in that?”

Samuel looks at me, his expression carved in stone. “Justice requires sacrifice.”

“But you can’t possibly agree that killing innocent people—”

The tracker’s voice is unforgiving. “Innocence is a relative term, Ms. Adams. Did you have the opportunity to return the controller to Ian before people died?”

“No.” I lift my chin and glare at Samuel, all thoughts of pretending to be afraid vanishing beneath the tide of white-hot anger that surges through me. “He sent the Cursed One into our city while our gate was locked and killed thousands of people without ever once identifying himself or asking for the tech to be returned. And then he pretended to be one of the survivors and murdered our people—poisoning newlyweds and slitting the throats of children—across the Wasteland. All while leaving cryptic messages that made little sense. He never said who he was. He never demanded the tech. He played games with people’s lives because he is sick, crazy—”

“You knew the tech was from Rowansmark when you found it in the Wasteland, did you not?”

“Yes, but—”

“You understood, based on your father’s actions, that the tech didn’t belong to the Commander. You knew about the bounty James Rowan placed on your father’s head. You knew your father was wanted for treason against Rowansmark. You had all the information you needed. And yet you and Logan McEntire didn’t return the controller to Rowansmark. You took what wasn’t yours and because of that, Marcus McEntire’s treason was discovered, and he died. Horribly.”

For the first time since I met him, Samuel’s voice trembles.

“I didn’t know—”

“You knew enough.” Samuel stands abruptly. “You can blame Ian all you want, but I know that boy. I’ve known him for his entire life. He’s brilliant and driven and, up until a few months ago, wanted nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps and make everyone proud of him. What he had to do to expunge the stain on his family’s honor broke him. Do you understand me? It broke him. And he would never have broken if you and Logan McEntire had returned the controller.”