“But you’re my commanding officer,” I insisted. “You should be able to give me the go-ahead.”

Tilda shook her head. “You know I have no authority to release you from your duties. Even if I did, it would mean nothing. Unless you get Ridley’s approval, you’ll be considered AWOL.”

I leaned my head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling, weighing my options. On one hand, if I left without permission, not only would I lose any hope of being on the Högdragen, but I’d most likely be fired as a tracker. I’d still have to stay in the army until after this “war” was over, but as soon as it was, I’d be out of work.

And on the other hand, getting permission meant I’d have to talk to Ridley.

“If you think this is the right thing to do, and it seems that you really do, then you need to talk to him,” Tilda said, her voice low and comforting. “Whatever is going on between the two of you, he’ll still be fair and hear you out.”

I looked up at her hopefully. “Will you get him for me?” She started to scoff, so I quickly explained. “If I go out there now, it’ll be a big spectacle because I’ve already skipped half a day. I just wanna get this over with and get out of here.”

Tilda sighed but smiled crookedly at me. “Fine. Wait here.”

While she went to retrieve Ridley, I sat down on one of the benches by the lockers. It may have seemed strange talking to the Överste in the girls’ locker room, but with so few female trackers, odds were that no one would use it. In fact, it was probably the least used area in the whole school.

Ridley pushed open the door hard enough to make it bang against the wall, and I hopped to my feet. He didn’t look at me when he came in, instead preferring to stare off at some point directly to the right of me, but finally, he forced his dark eyes to rest coldly on me.

His uniform looked good on him; like always, he’d left the top button undone, revealing just a hint of his chest. If the King or members of the Högdragen came around, he could get in trouble for that, but by the hard look on his face, I didn’t think he gave a damn.

“What the hell is so damn important that you think you can just blow off your job?” Ridley demanded.

“Queen Linnea.”

“We already went over that—”

“I think I know where she is,” I cut him off, and that got his attention.

For a brief second, he looked at me the way he always had—his mask of anger momentarily displaced. A wave of heat flushed over me, reminding me of the way I felt about him, but I pushed it away. I didn’t have time for that, even if he didn’t hate me right now.

“What are you talking about?” Ridley asked.

“She came to me in a lysa,” I said, and skepticism flashed in his eyes. “I know how rare they are, especially coming from a Skojare. But I also know that it was real. Linnea is alive, and she told me to come find her.”

He arched his eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. “Did she happen to tell you where she was?”

“No, not exactly,” I admitted.

“If this was a true lysa, and Linnea really wanted you to come find her, why wouldn’t she tell you exactly where she was?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head “The Skojare don’t have a ton of psychic powers, so it most likely took all she had to get out that one quick message, like an SOS.”

Ridley narrowed his eyes slightly. “That leads to another question—why you?”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. When I find her, I’ll ask.”

“How do you plan to find her if you don’t know where she is?” Ridley asked, and I hurried to explain my conversation with my mom about Lake Isolera.

When I finished telling him my plan to find Linnea, reiterating why it was so important, Ridley didn’t say anything. He stared down at the floor, breathing in deeply through his nose, and then he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

“How far away is it?” he asked finally.

“Based on the point on the map, I’d guess around a hundred to a hundred and fifty miles from Storvatten. So that puts us at about a day’s journey from here.”

He considered it, then nodded once. “Okay.” For a second I was so relieved that I almost hugged him, and then he added, “But I’m going with you.”

“What?” I asked, and I’m sure I sounded as shocked as I felt. “You—you … you’re running the army.”

I’d stumbled because I wanted to say, you hate me. But I couldn’t say that, so I pointed out the next logical reason why he wouldn’t be able to go.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, and that’s a light day. If we head out now, taking shifts driving, we should find the place and be back by Tuesday,” Ridley reasoned. “The scouts left this morning to search for Viktor Dålig and Konstantin Black. We’ll just be doing basic drills back here. Tilda can handle it until we get back.”

I opened my mouth, trying to think of protests, but I merely ended up gaping at him.

“You don’t need to come with,” I finally said.

“If Linnea knows anything about Viktor, I want to be there when you find her,” he said, and by the resolve in his eyes I knew he wouldn’t back down. Not that I blamed him.

I swallowed hard, as if my guilt had taken physical form as a painful lump in my throat. “Understood.”