“Shut up, Álvaro.”
“Well, at least we know why you’re queasy.”
“Shutup.”
“You might as well have swallowed a glassful of battery acid.”
“I happen to like battery acid.”
Dara could tell Noam was trying not to laugh again, sensed him purse his lips to hold back a smile. Noam was unable to come up with a response; Dara relished his temporary victory. He had the sudden urge to bump his shoulder against Noam’s and knock him off the sidewalk, half hoped that if he did, Noam might retaliate and bump him back. Then maybe they’d walk the rest of the way back to the government complex like that, elbows brushing, Dara’s heart in his throat.
Upon reflection, Dara had loved Noam since the moment they met. But this was the night he always thought of as the night he firstknew, down in his soul, that he’d never feel this way about anyone else, ever again. Noam had crawled his way into Dara’s mind and planted himself there, a root system tangled into Dara’s thoughts and Dara’s telepathy.
Inextricable.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
NOAM
It snowed again the evening of the second meeting Noam attended of the Black Magnolia.
He was soaked to the core as he let himself into Leo’s bar, hair plastered cold to his forehead. The umbrella he’d borrowed from Lehrer had done little to preserve him from the snow when the winds were blowing practically at gale force. The weather had been terrible ever since Carolinia’s only meteorpath died in Lehrer’s coup; according to the news anchors, this was the worst storm in half a decade.
But that hadn’t stopped the Black Magnolia from holding their meeting at the regularly scheduled time. No way to communicate a change in plans, after all—Noam and Holloway both couldn’t be contacted on their government-issue phones. All communication happened in person, always, and “in person” relied on a steady schedule.
Holloway was already there, at least, perched on a barstool and nursing a gin martini. A tiny bead of relief burst in Noam’s chest—part of him had worried they’d decide involving Noam was too great a risk. That he’d show up here to a locked door and aCLOSEDsign in the window.
That he’d never see Dara again.
So although Noam never thought he’d considerMaxim Hollowayto be a familiar face, he smiled as he sat down in the seat to Holloway’s left.
“You look dry.”
“I took a car.” Holloway’s gaze dropped down the length of Noam’s form, taking in his sodden sweater and squelching boots. “Can’t Lehrer at least spring for a bus pass?”
Noam made a face. “Buses aren’t running. Blizzard conditions—old fashioned, thanks,” he added when Leo approached.
Leo’s gaze narrowed. “I told you. I’m not serving you if you’re underage.”
“Somehow,” Holloway drawled, scrolling through emails on his phone, “I think losing your liquor license should be the least of your worries, Mr. Zhang.”
“Not happening. Besides. All I have is bottom-shelf rye, which I’m told isn’t good enough.”
Noam made a face. “Honestly, I can’t taste the difference.”
Leo laughed, even though Noam didn’t see how that was funny. He slapped a coaster down in front of Noam and headed down the bar to pour Noam a soda.
“So,” Holloway murmured, still not looking up from his phone; Noam resisted the intense urge to reach into the cell drive with technopathy and read along with him. “I hear this whole Atlantia annexation plan of Lehrer’s was your idea.”
“Is that what Lehrer said?”
Holloway turned toward Noam at last, gaze steady and curious. “Certainly. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks you to collaborate with me to construct a palatable way to present it to the public.”
Noam’s chest was overtight, ribs restricting around his lungs. He took his drink from Leo as soon as the man returned, covering up the twist of his lips with a long swallow. A mistake—the soda settled odd in his stomach, made him queasy. But when he lowered the glass, at least, he was in control.
“Then we’ll have an excuse to meet in private,” Noam said, turning his gaze back to Holloway, whose mouth twitched in half a smile.
“That we will.”
