Reina’s POV
The soldier’s grip on my wrist only tightened as more of them gathered. Their hands shoved at my arms, forcing me forward. The smoke still hung in the air, burning my throat, but their voices cut through it sharp and cruel.
“Spy.”
“Traitor.”
“Who sends a nun into Al Rayyan?”
Their accusations stung worse than their grip. My protests came weak and lost under their words. “I…I didn’t come to spy,” I whispered, but no one listened.
The white of my habit, once meant to be sacred, now only marked me like a flame in darkness. I stood out too much. Every eye turned on me. My robe made me look guilty, strange, out of place. I had no way to explain myself without sounding like a fool.
Fear curled in my stomach, sharp and heavy. But worse than fear was the emptiness hollowing me o
