At last, Leo lifted the scissors. Said, “I’ll cut it short.”
Afterward, Dara ran his hand over his close-cropped hair and stared at his reflection. He wasn’t recognizable. Without the fall of curls to soften them, his features were sharp and dangerous looking, the line of his mouth like the first fine cut from a scalpel. This wasn’t the foolish child so desperate for affection he’d almost killed himself seeking it. This wasn’t the fragile boy who broke so easily under Lehrer’s touch.
No.
The boy in this mirror was steel and frost and a bloodied knife. And he wasn’t afraid of anything.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
NOAM
They formally annexed Atlantia on January 31. The change in power was immediate and absolute. After all, the Carolinian military already dominated the region; what was left of the Atlantian government was in shambles, decentralized and impotent. The headlines ran in all Carolinian papers, big block letters framed in past tense, a fait accompli.
The reaction from the Atlantian diaspora was just as immediate.
Pamphlets went up in Little Atlantia, posted on all the same walls and windows as the ones Noam had printed the previous year. Protests spilled into the streets, people shouting at faceless and silent soldiers, the red star that had once represented Atlantia as a nation now representing nothing more than a movement: Atlantian nationalism. Atlantian anger.
And this time, there was no Tom Brennan to quell the outrage.
The whole process was planned out in conference rooms and offices: Noam and Maxim Holloway plotting contrasting speech points from leather armchairs, Lehrer frowning at Noam in the foyer of his apartment before a rally, reaching out to untuck Noam’s designer shirt:Dictatorship of the proletariat, remember.
It was for the greater good. Noam kept telling himself that, the whole time he stood on an overturned shipping crate in front of the Migrant Center, yelling to be heard over the raucous crowd. It was for the greater good.
And so for every speech Holloway gave, flatly opposed to the Atlantian annexation, Noam was there to remind Atlantians of their real enemy: Holloway, and Sacha, and people like them—people who would have rather Atlantia burned into dust, a thousand square miles of corpses and quarantined zone. He stirred that anger,directedit—and by the time Lehrer spoke on the subject, allultimate goal of Atlantian independenceandtemporary measures, the people were too busy calling for Holloway’s resignation to question Lehrer’s motives.
After all ... if Maxim Holloway wanted something, it was evil by default. Opposing him—opposing Sacha’s party—was more important than principle.
It was for the greater good. And yet Noam went to bed sick with himself every night, lying awake and listening to the soft susurration of Lehrer’s breath an arm’s reach away. A sickness that swelled again every time Lehrer reassured him: “In two years, when we have repaired the damaged infrastructure and restored Atlantian independence, they’ll understand. History will write us as heroes.”
Only Lehrer had no intention of restoring Atlantian independence. This was just another crime Noam would have to reckon with after Lehrer was dead.
“Texas is going to be a problem,” Lehrer murmured one evening, presiding from his favorite chair in the apartment, papers spread over his bent knee and the accent table at his side. “I predict they’ll pull their ambassador any day now. They see the Atlantian annexation as a threat.”
Noam glanced up from Wolf, who’d sprawled across the sofa to let Noam scratch him behind the ears. “Really? They would have invaded Atlantia, too, if you hadn’t gotten there first.”
Lehrer’s mouth twitched. “Good, you’re paying attention. However, you’ll find would-haves matter very little in foreign affairs.”
Wolf twisted his head in Noam’s lap, pushing his nose against Noam’s hip bone, clearly peeved by the shift in Noam’s attention. He let his hand drop back to the top of the dog’s skull.
“This might be a stupid question,” Noam said, “but how much does it really matter what Texas thinks? Our military outstrips theirs, any day. They can’t threaten us.”
Lehrer put down the memo he’d been skimming and stacked it together with the other papers in his lap, setting them all aside on the end table. His gaze lifted to Noam’s, and he propped his head against the heel of one hand. “It matters,” he said, “because the rest of the world will sympathize with them, not us. They might be wary of declaring outright war—but they can impose trade sanctions that could be crippling. Carolinia is a small country. We rely extensively on foreign trade for oil, certain metals ... not to mention that scotch you’re drinking.”
So. Definitely a stupid question, then.
At least Lehrer was being indulgent about it—which, actually, that was a bit strange. Lehrer never had much patience for naivete.
“Besides,” Lehrer went on, “Texas has advanced antiwitching technology. Even if our military is generally stronger thanks to our witching soldiers, Texas has their own defenses in that regard. All the Level IV–trained assassins in the world will be little good against Texan science, if it comes to that. And that same technology makes their servers impenetrable even to your power, Noam. I will admit it worries me.”
Noam picked up his glass of expensive imported whisky, took a small sip. Lehrer was right, of course. If Texan tech was as good as Lehrer suspected, even Lehrer’s many abilities would be rendered useless.
And Texas wanted nothing more than a witchingless world.
“What are you going to do?” he asked after a moment.
Lehrer was silent for a beat, one crossed leg swinging idly and his quartz-like gaze fixed on Noam’s. Then, at last, he looked away—picked up the memo again, and a pen. “I don’t know yet.”
After Lehrer had gone to bed, Noam slipped out and back down the hall to the sitting room. He flicked on a lamp with electromagnetism, casting the empty room in shades of amber and gold. The memos had been put away, stacked in the top drawer of Lehrer’s desk with all the other artifacts of a head of state. Noam arranged them on the desk surface and used his phone to take photos of every page.
