Justine paused, then offered, “Why don’t you start at the library?”
“The one at the Academy?” I asked, already doubtful it would hold anything useful.
She shook her head. “No, the Forum has a much larger collection. Every book and text ever written on translation is preserved there. You might even find some stuff about the Elder.”
I frowned. “The Forum? I didn’t know it was open to us.”
“It’s not open to everyone,” she said with a hint of a smirk. “But I’m sureyoucan get in. Especially if our Leader-to-be has a say in it.”
I gave her a look. “So you're saying I should exploit my boyfriend for restricted library access?”
She shrugged. “I mean, if you're not using the perks, what's the point of dating a future dictator?”
“Okay, rude,” I said, deadpan. “He prefers the termbenevolent autocrat.”
She snorted, and I gave her a grateful nod. “Thank you, Justine. I really appreciate this.”
And for the first time, she smiled, a real one that reached her eyes. “You’re welcome.”
I hadn’t seen James in days, but I needed to talk to him right now. Which is how I found myself pacing outside his loft, waiting, the hours dragging on until it was almost three in the morning.
James finally appeared, walking up the stairs to his loft, and spotted me standing at his door. His steps slowed, and surprise flickered across his face as our eyes met.
"Emma?" His brows furrowed in confusion. "What the hell? It’s late—are you okay?"
I almost didn’t register his question, my heart racing as the words tumbled out. "We need to talk," I said sternly. My impatience was bubbling right beneath the surface.
His brows lifted as he unlocked the door, clearly taken aback by my abruptness. "Uh, okay? Nice to see you too?"
The door clicked open, and without waiting for an invitation, I stepped inside. The familiar scent of him—clean, crisp, with a hint of something darker underneath—wrapped around me, but it did nothing to ease the coil of frustration in my gut.
James followed, then shut the door behind him. "Don't play with me, James," I snapped, crossing my arms. "I’m not in the mood for games."
His expression immediately sobered. The lightness in his tone vanished as he tossed his jacket onto the back of the couch and took a step closer. "What’s going on?"
I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The loft was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the exposed brick walls, but all I could focus on was him.
"Did you fight with Julian, after the Radicals attacked?" My voice was low but firm.
James blinked, clearly caught off guard. He shifted his weight, looking rather uncomfortable. “What?”
I held my ground, my arms still crossed, refusing to let him sidestep the question. “When I was in a coma… The night before I regained consciousness, did you physically fight with him?” I repeated, more forcefully this time.
A pause hung in the air, and then his jaw clenched, as if bracing himself. “Yes.”
I closed my lids, the confirmation hitting me hard. I took a shaky breath, before asking. “Why?”
James looked away. “You know why,” he muttered, his jaw tightening again as he took a few steps toward the window, staring out as if searching for anything else to focus on.
I did. Because of me. Because of the True Bond I’d formed with Julian instead of him.
Standing there in the center of the room, the atmosphere between us was almost suffocating, my arms still wrapped around myself as if I could hold myself together. “Is that why he left?” I asked, the words almost a whisper now.
He kept his gaze on the window, but I could see his muscles tense. “Yes,” he said, his voice low.
I shifted on my feet when the question I’d been dreading slipped out before I could stop it.
“James. Who healed me?”
