It wasn’t what Dara expected him to say. It was exactly the kind of thing Dara himself might have come up with, but Noam wasn’t like that. He’d never seen his friends as weapons to hone and use. The Noam that Dara knew would have insisted on some harebrained rescue mission, would’ve tied Ames up in Dara’s apartment until he could figure out how to break the spell.
Dara’s Noam wouldn’t say things like, “It’ll help my cover if Ames only reports back the same things I report. We can feed her misinformation to lead Lehrer off track.”
Dara let out a breath. Well, Noam wasn’t wrong—and if he was finally thinking like Lehrer, Dara had no right to complain. This was what he said he wanted. “I agree,” he said at last. “But it does mean we’ll have to find other times to meet too. Times that Ames and Lehrer don’t know about.”
Noam nodded. “I can make it work.” And from the set of his jaw, the fierce gleam in his eyes, Dara almost believed him.
He glanced toward the door, still shut. Ames was still in there, probably getting suspicious. And whether she wanted to or not, she’d have to report those suspicions to Lehrer. “We should go back inside.”
“Wait,” Noam said. He reached for Dara’s arm—almost grasped, but instead his fingertips awkwardly grazed Dara’s shoulder, then dropped toward his elbow.
Dara’s fingertips were numb. He pressed his hands against his thighs, for what little good that did. “What?”
The snow was falling more heavily now, blanketing the alley and making the street seem oddly silent, or maybe that was Noam, building a ward. Without magic, Dara couldn’t tell.
Noam blinked, a few flakes of snow falling from his lashes to dust his cheeks instead. “We need to talk about the bartender. Leo.”
“What about him?”
Noam bit his lower lip, an expression he used to make all the time back in the barracks, usually when he was considering how to say something he knew Dara didn’t want to hear. Dara frowned.
“What?”
“I don’t know if we can trust him,” Noam said, thrusting his hands into his pockets and locking his elbows in against his sides. “I mean ... how well do you really know this guy? Who’s to say he won’t turn us in as soon as he has enough information to make a case?”
“Lehrer already knows about the Black Magnolia. Or have you forgotten?”
“I’m not worried he’s working for Lehrer. I’m worried he might turn us in to the police.” Noam’s voice was firmer now, like he was talking himself into it even as he spoke. “If we get arrested by the Ministry of Defense, Lehrer isn’t gonna intervene. We’ll all get guillotined. Just like Sacha’s supporters.”
Dara’s eyes narrowed. “I should think I’m a better judge of character than you are.”
“Or maybe you think he’s good looking.”
That hit Dara like a poison dart shot between the ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. It came out in a breathless sort of laugh. “Is that so?”
Noam visibly recoiled, shaking his head once and drawing a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t—I don’t know why I said that.”
“I do.” Dara’s pulse was a drum beating in his stomach, a rhythm that reverberated through his whole body. He didn’t even feel the cold anymore, even though ice had crystallized on his shirtsleeves, seeping down into his marrow. A quick and vicious smile cut across his lips. “You’re afraid I’ll fall in love with someone who isn’t you. You don’t even distrust Leo—you just want him gone. And you’ve been around Lehrer enough you’ll do whatever’s necessary to take back what you think isyours.”
He didn’t let Noam respond to that. He just gave him one last derisive look and headed back inside—into the gold light of the bar, back to the building that would imprison him until Lehrer was dead, and to the girl who was now as trapped in Lehrer’s thrall as everyone else.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
NOAM
It was an awkward walk home through the snow, Ames and Noam trudging along side by side and not speaking. Noam didn’t dare open his mouth—he worried he might say something stupid, like,Promise me you aren’t under persuasionorTell me you aren’t talking to Lehrer after this. Every time he stole a glance at her, she was staring at a spot on the sidewalk a few paces ahead of them, a muscle twitching in her jaw.
Dara was right. And now that Noam knew that, it seemed impossible that he hadn’t noticed earlier.
She didn’t say a word to him until they were back in the atrium of the government complex. Then she turned to face him in the middle of the room, melted snow dripping off her coat and puddling on the marble floor, and said: “Are you sleeping in the barracks tonight?”
Whatever part of Noam hadn’t withered into ash in that alley with Dara died inside him now. He tried to keep his posture easy, casual, even though he felt like all his blood had gone dry. “I have a meeting with Lehrer.”
Ames gazed back at him unblinkingly. Then she made a rough sound in the back of her throat and shook her head. “Figures. Fine. Go have youreleven p.m. meeting. I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe.”
“Ames—”
“You know Bethany asks about you, right?” She had her arms folded over her chest, sodden hair plastered to her cheeks. Her eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them, even those nights she came back from Raleigh dizzy and flush-cheeked with a bloody nose, her pupils gone wide. “All the time. She can’t figure out why you don’t ever come to the barracks anymore. Or to class. Or basic. I’m kind of running out of excuses to give her.”
