“Who would have thought your best chance at citizenship would depend on an ancient artifact Doxon likes to keep in his dusty basement,” the commander drawled, his tone snide as he released us from the sword bind and ambled over to his waterbottle as if he was already tired of me—my incompetency.

I suppressed the urge to throw one of my sneakers at his head. I was actually shaking from restrained rage as I got a good view of his broad back turned to me. But the raging beast went quiet the ...