I slammed the book shut, then closed my lids to find some inner calm.
Sean leaned back in his chair, ran a hand through his hair, and stared at the dusty old book in front of him. “The Battle of ’59… Hard to believe that the Elder’s the only one left who was there. No one else alive knows what really happened.”
I frowned, confusion clouding my thoughts. “I thought Stephen Stone was a survivor?”
Sean nodded, looking somber. “Yeah, he is. But I’ve heard his memory was wiped clean after the war. He wouldn’t remember a thing.”
I nodded, as I tried to remember what James had told me about it in the past. “So, he survived, but he has no idea what really happened?”
“That’s right,” Sean replied, leaning forward. “It’s the same with George Ortell—head of the Resistants at Coastal. He’s a survivor too, but again, no memory of the events. It’s like the past was ripped right out of their minds.”
I shook my head, the implications settling in. “How is that even possible? Why would anyone go to such lengths to erase their memories?”
Sean sighed. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Whoever did this didn’t want them remembering what really happened. Makes you wonder what they’re trying to hide.”
I glanced at him, flipping through the pages of another worn-out text. “You ever hear stories about it?”
He nodded, as he turned serious. “Yeah, plenty. Crown still talks about it sometimes. The Battle changed everything—magiagainst magi, over whether or not we should reveal ourselves to humans. But the Elder is the only one who could give us the truth. If he’d talk, that is.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m on speaking terms with him right now, so we’ll have to keep digging.”
“Look, Emma, we’re in a public library,” Sean said, then glanced around. “I mean, we’re not gonna find anythin’ of real value here.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Sean leaned in, his voice dropping slightly. “What yer lookin’ for…ye don’t think we might have more luck shiftin’ through—I don’t know—classified documents?”
“And where would I find those?” I asked, my frustration flaring.
Sean looked at me with sympathetic patience. “Ye really think yer next Leader wouldn’t have the kind of information yer after?”
I swallowed hard, his words settling over me like a weight I hadn’t been ready to carry. I wanted to dismiss them outright, to cling to the belief that James would’ve told me anything important. But the moment Sean said it, something inside me wavered.
James had always been careful with his words, deliberate in what he revealed. But it didn’t mean he was hiding anything from me.
Except. Wasn’t that exactly what it meant?
A slow, uneasy feeling curled in my stomach. I had doubted James before, but I had always doubted my own doubts more. It was easier that way—easier to believe I was overthinking, that I was too paranoid, how the secrecy was only strategy, not personal.
But reality was staring me in the face now, and Sean had spoken it aloud. The odds of James knowing more about the Elder and the Battle of ’59 weren’t high—they were undeniable.
I had spent so much time defending him in my mind, convincing myself he would tell me what he could, whenever he could. As if he wasn’t holding out on me. That if he had any real insights, he would have shared them.
But it was naïve, wasn’t it?
James wasn’t another Offensive anymore. He was the next Leader. And the next Leader didn’t get to choose what he knew. He knew everything.
My fingers curled into fists as the realization sank in, shame twisting through me. I’d trusted him, and maybe I still did, but I’d been blind. I had been so caught up in what I wanted to believe about James, I had ignored what had been obvious all along.
Damn it.
Of course he knew more. He had to.
“What do you suggest?” I asked, my voice more resigned than curious.
“Where do ye think he’d keep any documents of value?” Sean asked. “Does he have an office?”
I shrugged, feeling helpless. “I have no idea.”
