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Wren

Rafe invited Wren into his study after dinner. She wasn't surprised, but a small part of her dreaded the conversation to come. Wren might guess he had a speech planned about her lack of experience and not being old enough for a dangerous mission like the raid on the archives. He trusted her enough to let her go on the local raids, but the injuries during the Phantom attack proved him right. He had always been right. He'd say she was needed at home, not in the field.

Wren would try to prove him wrong. She'd done it in the past and would do it again. The daughter of a leader is not the singular label she wanted to wear.

"What's up, Pop?"

He smiled.

She only used that term of endearment when something bad was coming her way.

"Sit," he said.

Wren perched on the edge of the hard-backed wooden chair on the other side of his large, ornate, antique desk plastered with books, manuscripts, and documents, some to be written and some to be read.

"How's your back?" his concern evident.

"Better. Itchy, but otherwise, it doesn't hurt. That's not why I'm here, is it?"

"You were at the meeting, listened to my speech, and were part of the plan to raid the archives. I shouldn't ask this, but as your father, I have to. Is there any way to get you to stay behind, especially now that you are injured? I don't want to risk your life."

A sigh escaped even as she sucked it back. How many times had they had this conversation?

"Dad, I'm as qualified as any of the other raiders. I'm not seriously injured. The doctor said I was fine. Healthy as a horse."

"Your commander said you took the Phantom down singlehandedly the other night. That's impressive. I should have congratulated you earlier. It's an honor and a privilege to be a raider and to be part of the attack on the archives, but your mother and I worry, especially your mother. And now you're injured. You can't fight at one hundred percent."

The words stung.

"Mom?" Wren scoffed. "Don't tell me you're not backing his campaign, which is ridiculous. I'm an adult, but you tell her I'm going on the raid and tell her she doesn't have to wait up for me every night."

Rafe laughed. "Like anything I say would stop either of you from doing exactly what you want. You've got your mother's stubbornness and determination."

Her frustration built. "We've been over this so many times. You didn't want me to be a raider. You wanted me to study the history of strategy or science. When that failed, you let me train but asked the commander not to put me on active duty. How well did that go? Now you want me to sit out of the biggest raid the Grounders ever attempted."

"I ask a lot, but you're young. You might consider yourself an adult, but you have so many years ahead of you. Don't make the mistakes I did."

"What mistakes?"

"That is a discussion for another day." Rafe grabbed her hand over the desk and held it. "You need to consider your position in society. You're the leader's daughter. You will, one day, be a leader yourself. There's a lot at risk every time you leave the caves."

"Here's a thought. Mason and I played together as kids. His family joined us for meals, yet you have no problem risking his life." She yanked her hand away.

"It's not like that. He made the choice to serve his people by being a raider. It's an honor."

"His life is just as valuable as mine. No special treatment. We agreed. Right?"