It claimed I had been dishonorably discharged for espionage.

“This is a lie,” I whispered.

“We know,” Vance said. “But the King needs to know why she fabricated this.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a second, smaller envelope.

“And there is one more thing.”

He handed it to me.

My fingers trembled as I opened the paper flap.

Inside was a single polaroid photograph, dated only three days ago.

It showed an older woman sitting by a high window in a stone room, looking out at a gray sky.

My breath caught in my throat.

It was Margaret Carter.

My mother.

“She is alive,” Vance said quietly.

The phone in my kitchen began to ring.

The ringing phone broke the silence of my small apartment.

I did not move.

My eyes were locked on the face of the woman in the photograph.

“Answer it, Commander,” Vance said.

I stepped past him and picked up the receiver.

“Emily,” my commanding officer’s voice came through, loud and sharp.

“Sir,” I said, straightening my spine.

“You are being placed on emergency leave, effective immediately,” he said.