“You’re right,” I say. “Like I said, the only Erik I know is the one who exists right now. And I’m worried about him.” There’s little point in being subtle anymore. Besides, from his presence, I can tell Noah truly is concerned about Erik. That relationship, whatever form it took, is important to him. So long as he understands that I’m speaking from a place of worry for Erik, I believe he might be more honest with me. At the very least, I don’t think he’ll turn on me. “You said you were friends, yet you don’t want him to know about you. You’re cagey about your history with him. You work directly for the Council—the ones who turned on Erik and the rest of us. Isn’t it a given I would want to know more? To confirm whether or not I can trust you and whether you mean any harm to Erik?”
Noah glares daggers at me, but I hold his gaze. In the past two months I’ve spent meeting with him and Austin, there are things I’ve come to understand about Noah. Most importantly, that he doesn’t seem like a bad person. I don’t know where his loyalties lie or what he might do, but I don’t believe he wishes to harm others.
Sure enough, his presence begins to dim. The fury fades out, replaced with his former exhaustion. It’s heavier now, more solid than before.
“You can sense if someone is lying, right?” Noah eventually asks.
I hesitate. Nod.
“Then you’ll know I’m telling the truth. I’d never deliberately hurt Erik. I’ve done what I have because I care about him deeply. I don’t have any intention of betraying him, you, or the Order. Even if the Council finds out about all of you, I won’t say or do anything to help them. I hate the Council.” His hands crumple into fists. “It’s true I follow their orders. The Council raised me to be … the perfect spy. My job is to get Nytes from other sectors over into Sector Eight’s military. By any means. If I don’t, they’ll kill me. If I mess up, I’m punished.” His thumb traces raised scars over his hands, and shock spikes through me. Kill him? The Council is terrible, but I never thought they’d have me killed if I didn’t carry out my orders. Why would they take such extreme measures against Noah over recruiting other gifted? I can’t ask before he continues. “I’ve never obeyed them because I wanted to. I have my reasons for not wanting Erik to know we were friends—but they have nothing to do with you or this war. Is that good enough for you? Can you stop prying now?”
He truly didn’t lie at any point. Every word he said rang with truth, not only through my gift, but in the sincerity with which he spoke. There are still more things I don’t know about him than things I do. However, I’m aware he won’t tell me more than this, and he’s already said what I need to know. He won’t betray Erik or the Order.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to make you upset or push you. I didn’t know about your circumstances, either. I just…”
Noah releases a slow stream of breath. “No. I understand. You want to protect the people important to you. I get that.”
“Thank you. And thank you for being honest with me. I don’t know what exactly you’re going through, but I hope it gets better.” An empty condolence. However, it’s the only thing I can think to say.
“Thanks.” Noah doesn’t look at me. “You’d better go. It’s getting late.”
19
AL
I’M EXHAUSTED AFTER today’s training session. We didn’t go too hard because of the huge fight tomorrow, but my worry for everyone drained me. Fixing postures, testing their strength and reflexes, watching them spar—every small thing wore me out.
When practice finishes, I clap my hands to get everyone’s attention. A few hundred people look to me. Something swells inside my chest as I take them all in. They’ve been working hard these last few months. They’ve come so far, and they’ve been so brave and dedicated. “Good work today, everyone. You’ve got a big day up ahead, so rest and make sure you’ve got everything ready. Remember what you learned. Try not to overstress. You’re all going to do great.”
They cheer even though I wasn’t expecting them to. Maybe I should’ve tried to say something more motivational. But I’m not really good at that kind of stuff—that’s more Walker’s thing. I’m better at being straightforward and trying to give them advice on what to do to stay alive.
My students pick up their water and towels. Some hang around and chat. Most leave. If they’re on the ambush team to stall the rebels’ big attack, they’ve probably got a lot to do. Supplies to prepare, goodbyes to say. Just in case.
As many students as I have now, there used to be more. I close my eyes as each face comes to mind. Sam, a redheaded woman with a good eye for throwing knives. Iljean, an older man who worked hard to make up for the fact that he wasn’t as fit as everyone else. Arman, a boy around my age whose defense was always just a little too weak, his sword positioning too easy to break through. I wonder if that’s what got him in the end.
I watch my remaining students. How many of them won’t come back to me? Who won’t I see again? I’ve done what I can, and they’ve all gotten stronger. But this is war. I’m not so naive as to think no one will die.
I join one of the chatting groups. Irina, Arman’s older sister, stands with them. She’s been a lot quieter since her brother’s death, but she hasn’t missed a single practice. “Irina,” I say. “Mind if I talk to you for a minute?”
She nods and leaves her group with a wave. They don’t say anything, but their eyes follow us. I make sure we’re far enough away that no one can eavesdrop before I turn back to her. “Hey. Are you doing okay? I heard you volunteered for the battle.”
“Yes.” Irina looks at me like I just said something as obvious as “the Order’s at war with the rebels.”
I shake my head. “You’re not being reckless, are you? Running off into a fight to avenge your brother? This isn’t like the Order’s other missions. This isn’t a surprise raid on a small group of rebels. They’re going to be attacking the sector with a huge strike force. If you rush in, you’re not going to make it out. Arman wouldn’t want that.”
Irina tilts her head. Her eyes run me up and down, like she’s reassessing me. I don’t like it.
“I know it’s different,” she says. “And I know it’s important. That’s why I’m going. I love my brother. I miss him a lot, and I appreciate you remembering us and checking in on me. But I’m not fighting for something like revenge.”
I narrow my eyes. “Really.”
“Really.” She says it so simply I almost have to believe her. “Even if I knew who killed my brother, it’s not like killing that person would bring him back. Revenge wouldn’t change anything.”
Something jerks in my stomach. “It wouldn’t bring Arman back, but you’d be delivering justice, wouldn’t you?”
“What kind of justice would that be? Killing someone because they’re fighting for what they believe in at the risk of their own life, just like we are? Whoever killed Arman probably had friends and family waiting for them to return. They fought so they could live. That’s all. My brother knew the risk of fighting, and so do I. Is that it?”