Harsh, but understandable. A lie—big or small, well-intentioned or not—is the ultimate sign of disrespect. If I cannot be trusted, I’m a liability rather than an asset. “When dealing with people who are inherently flawed by nature, nothing is without exception.” I do not mention Killian’s intention to save me from harm. He has to maintain his pro-Myriad, anti-Ten facade. “But I think you question my feelings for him more than anything. You want to know if I love him. The answer is yes. I do.”

    Gasps sound behind me, but I hold my head high. I won’t be shamed.

    “Troikans are supposed to love others,” I say and blink. I didn’t tell Killian I love him, did I?

    I was so overwhelmed by his declaration, I lost sight of my own. But I do. I love him. He owns my heart. There’s no need to ponder or weigh the pros and cons. 143, 11.9.12.12.9.1.14.

    Does he know I return his feelings?

    Every fiber of my being demands I hunt him down, but I plant my feet into the floor. First things first.

    “He has harmed and killed many Troikans,” one of the jurors says. “People we loved.”

    “He’s never killed in cold blood.” Not to my knowledge. “Like everyone here, he strikes in the midst of battle. And haven’t we all made mistakes? Aren’t we all grateful for the second...fifth...tenth chances we’ve been given?”

    “My mother used to say the same.” The youngest girl speaks Spanish, yet I understand every word, despite never having learned the language. She smiles at me—she has the most adorable crooked tooth—before wiggling her brows. “Plus, Killian Flynn is cuuute.”

    I suppress a smile of my own. “Yes, he is.”

    Going from dreamy to stern in a blink, she wags a finger at me. “A pretty face shouldn’t affect us. A pretty face can often hide a monster. Beauty fades. Character lasts forever.”

    “Killian isn’t a monster.” He isn’t!

    I wrap my fingers around the edge of the podium and squeeze, the color quickly leeching from my knuckles. “We cannot say love is the answer to every problem and not love everyone. Including Myriadians. We must see past the realm to the innocent men, women and children who populate it. We are supposed to help others. Shouldn’t we help even those who have hated us?”

    More gasps erupt behind me, but I’m past the point of caring.

    “Perhaps you’re right, Miss Lockwood. But how can you know for sure? You are overconfident without actual experience, and you refuse to listen to those who do have experience.” The oldest woman folds her arms over her desktop. With her dark hair, eyes and skin, she could pass for Cleopatra. “You were told to watch and observe, and yet you dived headfirst into action right from the start. You need seasoning.”

    “I had permission,” I say, and one of my number brands throbs. I think... I think it’s telling me to stand down.

    “You had permission after you’d broken your commander’s order. Now I must wonder. How quickly will you break rank during your next assignment?”

    “Why don’t we wait until I actually break rank before casting blame,” I say with a little bite. “Also, I think we can all agree today’s mission had a happy ending.”

    The oldest male leans forward, his pierced brows winging into his hairline. “Yes. Today’s happy ending could be tomorrow’s tearjerker. You look at the here and now while we look ahead to the endgame.”

    “Maybe our endgame needs to change,” I reply.

    He ignores me, saying, “Have we reached a verdict?”

    “We have,” the others call in unison.

    “Tenley Lockwood.” The intensity of Oldest’s gaze pierces me. “You will not be benched. However. During your next mission, you will not issue a single order. You will do as your commander tells you without complaint.”

    My spine fuses with a bar of steel, my brands throbbing harder, faster. “What if I disagree with my commander?”

    “A baby must crawl before she can walk. A subpar Conduit will never defeat Myriad.”

    Throb. I grind my teeth. “You’re asking me to surrender my free will.” Something I will never do. I fought too hard for the right to choose.

    “No, Miss Lockwood. We’re asking you to willingly submit your will to another’s. There is a difference. We’re giving you the opportunity to plant seeds, to be a good helper so that one day you will have good help. Sow and harvest, the foundation of our realm. Enjoy a bountiful return, or lament a rotten one. There are no other options.”

    Throb, throb. “No way, no how. I won’t obey an order I disagree with.”

    His stare remains unwavering. “What makes you think you know what’s best? You, who have many questions but few answers. What makes you think you can lead your teammates when you cannot even lead yourself? Here’s the truth, unvarnished. If you cannot accept discipline, you cannot grow.”

    Does everything he says have to be treated like a precious pearl of wisdom?

    THROB! “You’re right. I don’t have all the answers, and I’ll never know what would have happened to Dior if I’d remained in the background as ordered. So. I’ll submit myself to whatever punishment you deem fit. But let the others go. I’m responsible for any wrongs committed.”

    “Agreed.” He bangs a gavel. “So you have said, so it shall be done.”

    The man in the corner returns to take my hand. He ushers me to the end of the line. My knees tremble, but I lock them in place.

    Levi is escorted to the podium...where he is praised for using every circumstance as a teaching moment.

    Elizabeth goes next. I’m shocked when she doesn’t say anything negative about me.