A strange bird fluttered its wings against the cage of Noam’s ribs.
“I won’t ask you to stop fighting,” Lehrer said, very quietly. “I would never ask you that.”
I’ll never stop, Noam thought, but thinking wasn’t speaking. So at last, he made himself nod, and Lehrer—who seemed to have been waiting for just that—squeezed his wrist and drew away.
“Can I keep the emails?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Noam blinked. “Wait. Seriously?”
Lehrer leaned back in his chair and reached for his tea. “I meant what I said, didn’t I?” His voice was dry, but his lips, when they touched his cup, curved up.
“I would’ve thought you’d tell me it was illegally obtained evidence or something.”
“Ah, yes. Your record. Twelve months in juvenile detention for criminal trespass.” His eyes, as they met Noam’s over the rim of his teacup, glittered too bright. “I should have known you’d recidivate.”
It took Noam a second to realize Lehrer was joking.
When he did, though, relief poured like ice water through his veins.Lehrer, joking—the idea was almost obscene, and yet...
“They caught me plugged in to the server room at the immigration office,” Noam admitted. “Totally red-handed.”
“Well then, I’m thrilled to be working alongside such a criminal prodigy,” Lehrer said dryly.
It felt like a wall crumbling between them. Like Noam was seeing the real Lehrer for the first time, behind the mask and uniform of defense minister. Like Lehrer could still be the boy who loved his parents and went to shul on Fridays, who probably hated charoset and read novels when he was supposed to be praying.
A boy a lot like Noam, maybe.
Lehrer helped him pack his things back into his satchel, Lehrer’s magic floating the notebooks in alongside Noam’s holoreader. He offered Noam tea, and Noam declined, still queasy from before. Then Lehrer escorted him to the front door with a hand placed between his shoulder blades. A small gesture, but it knotted warm in Noam’s chest.
“One more thing,” Lehrer said, standing there with fingers poised above the knob. “Be careful with Mr. Shirazi, Noam. Don’t share this conversation with him. He may be clever and charming, but he’s... troubled. I don’t say this as a slight against him, of course; I raised him like my own son. But he will not see things our way. Do you understand?”
No shit. Dara hadn’t been checking his social media accounts on the MoD servers, after all.
Did Lehrer know Dara was working against him? If so, why hadn’t Lehrer stopped him? Noam couldn’t believe Lehrer was oblivious.
But if Dara was against Lehrer, and Lehrer was willing to let Noam hold on to sensitive information that could unravel Sacha’s government...
Was Lehrer against Sacha?
If so, did that mean Darawasn’t?
It was too much to try to hold on to, too many threads tangling worse the more he tried to unravel them.
So Noam just nodded.
Lehrer looked relieved. He opened the door.
“Good. Then I’ll see you Monday, at our regular time. Do try not to damage any more government property on your way out, will you?”
He hadn’t called for Howard to escort Noam from the study back to the training wing. Impossible not to take note of that, after what Lehrer had just told him. Even so, Noam didn’t take any detours—just went straight to the barracks before the others could return from class, where he set himself up in the common room with his books, like he’d been there all along.
Dara didn’t get back until late. He let himself into the barracks sometime around eleven. He’d taken the fake lieutenant stripes off his uniform. Such a small thing, but without them Dara looked younger, a quiet shadow with a lowered gaze.
“Hey,” Noam said, moving his textbook off his lap and onto the end table. Dara glanced up, their eyes meeting across the common room. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Dara turned the latch. “I’m fine. Lehrer was angry, but I expected that.”
