Noam didn’t want to go to dinner. How the hell was he supposed to sit there and look right at the leaders of this godforsaken country and pretend he hadn’t killed thousands of their soldiers just this morning?
He swallowed around something hot and leaden in his throat. “I can’t. I’m not a diplomat.”
Lehrer waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry—I’ll do all the talking. You’re just there as window dressing.” He arched a brow. “I want you to be able to make an easy escape. The dinner is hosted in the presidential residence; all their tech is protected by antiwitching technology. Find a computer—any computer—and program us a back door past their firewall.”
Okay, well at leastthatwas something Noam could do. He gave Lehrer a half smile. “All right. Consider it done.”
Because, yeah, maybe Texas was siding with the Black Magnolia, but that didn’t make them not a country led by antiwitching genocidal tyrants. If Lehrer managed to take Texas down before the resistance killed him, so much the better.
The en suite bathroom was as elaborate as the rest of the penthouse. Noam shed his ruined uniform and climbed into Lehrer’s massive glass-walled shower, letting out a soft sigh as the hot water pounded down on his back and sluiced away all those layers of grime and blood. The water ran brown as it swirled round the drain, and Noam shut his eyes, scrubbing both hands over his healed face.
Only all he could see then was those lines of unarmed Texan soldiers falling like cut flowers as Noam’s unit gunned them down.
His eyes flew open, and he tipped forward, pressing his brow against the wet glass as he sucked in a series of ragged breaths.
It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.
Repeating the litany didn’t make it any less untrue.
How the—how the hell did Lehrer do it? Shut off his conscience and just ...do what had to be done?
The shower steam was suddenly oppressive, dizzying as a sauna. Noam grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed off as efficiently as he could, rubbing a round of shampoo into his hair and rinsing off the suds. The nausea abated only when Noam pushed open the shower door and stepped out onto the plush white bathmat.
Lehrer was on the phone when Noam emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped tight round his waist. Lehrer glanced over at him, midsentence talking about tariffs, and pointed left.
Noam followed his direction, padding through the formal sitting room and through a set of heavy wooden doors into what must be Lehrer’s bedroom.
Lehrer—or someone else—had already unpacked his suitcases, all Lehrer’s suits hung on neat hangers from the rack of his walk-in closet. Noam flipped past his military uniform and a series of tailored jackets to find a plain T-shirt and a pair of flannel bottoms. He had to roll the waist of those three times over to keep the hems from dragging on the floor, but it was a far sight better than lounging around Lehrer’s room in a goddamn towel.
Lehrer was still talking when Noam emerged, pacing back and forth through the main living area and far more absorbed in that conversation than in Noam. Even so, when Noam made for the door, Lehrer broke conversation to say, “No, stay here.”
Noam paused, arching a brow. Lehrer gazed back unblinkingly, and of course, Noam broke first. He dropped down onto one end of an antique-looking sofa and propped his bare feet up on the opposite armrest. He shot off a few texts to Bethany, Ames, and Taye via technopathy, but only Bethany replied immediately:
Everything’s under control here, don’t worry. All the Level IV students are being recalled to Carolinia until the peace talks are over.
Peace talks?
Noam looked toward Lehrer again, but Lehrer was at the bar cart pouring a fresh drink and didn’t notice.
They’re having peace talks?he sent back.
Guess so,Bethany responded.Who knows, maybe something’ll actually come of it this time.
Something had come of it last time. Carolinia had refused to sign the treaty, refused to decimate its witching population, and had closed its borders. That was what passed for peaceful resolution when dealing with Texas.
Only ...
Peace talks.Did that mean—
Lehrer hadn’t said a word about Noam’s performance at the airport. Did Lehrer consider that success or failure?
What if the only reason they were in peace talks at all was because Noam had failed to hold back his battalion—because they never took Houston?
“Feeling better?” Lehrer said, skimming long fingers through Noam’s damp hair.
Noam hadn’t even noticed he was off the phone.
“Yes.” Noam tilted his head back to look at him, but Lehrer was already crossing round the sofa; he nudged Noam’s legs aside and took the other cushion, settling himself in with one arm slung over the seat back.
