“They’ve always told us it’s wrong, to mess with history. Deadly. And even Jonah said it’s dangerous.” Even though I trusted Caesarion, the truth of their warnings rang in my bones.
“Right, but Jonah is dangerous, according to the Elders and the Enforcers. It could be that we only want to believe he’s still good because we love him.” Analeigh’s cheeks turned pink as she reached out and squeezed my hand. The quiet reprimand in her expression earlier dissolved, making room for empathy and confusion. “I’m sorry for being harsh earlier.”
“When?”
“I was thinking it and you know it. But you didn’t mean to hurt Sarah, and I doubt Oz did, either. Maybe … do you think you could talk to him again? Get him to trust you?”
I shook my head, my fingers lifting to my mouth before I realized what was happening. I pinched my lower lip, trying to erase the memory of the kiss. “I don’t know. He’s scared.”
He had frightened me, then pissed me off, and that had taken precedence over any concern for his well-being. Maybe he’d climbed in way over his head. I could try talking to him. For all of his bluster in the air lock yesterday, he’d gone out of his way tonight to help me when he could have easily shoved me into his father’s arms and told Zeke everything he knew about me traveling with Jonah’s cuff. And he wouldn’t have been wrong to do it.
“What are we going to do, Kaia?”
I squeezed her hand harder, holding on for dear life. I don’t know.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, worry wrinkling her brow and erasing her instinctive disapproval of my antics as she glanced toward Sarah’s doorway. We were in this together, no matter how hard she wished I had just followed the rules, had never grabbed Jonah’s cuff or found out Oz was up to something.
Another memory from tonight surfaced. “Do you know anything about someone named Cecil Beaton? The Elders were talking about influencing him.”
She paused, chewing her lip, then shook her head. “I know I should. It sounds familiar. We could look it up.”
I put out my hand, stopping her as she went for her personal comp. “No. After earlier, I’m not sure what we can research without arousing more suspicion. Let’s just think about it for a few days, and if we don’t come up with anything, ask Sarah to help us get around the system security.”
“If she forgives you by then.”
For all of her meek exterior, Analeigh was always on my side. Perhaps not where Caesarion was concerned, but as far as things went with the goings-on at the Academy. And Oz.
Since he and I had yet another “date” first thing in the morning, I might as well give talking to him a shot.
It couldn’t be a worse idea than kissing him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next morning dawned far too early, and since Oz and I were summoned to the private sanction before breakfast, sleeping in qualified as a pipe dream.
I rose twenty minutes before the alarm, deciding to take Analeigh’s advice to try again to talk the truth out of Oz. I brushed my teeth and threw my long hair into a crooked bun on top of my head, then slid into my familiar apprentice uniform. An attack of chills led me to grab my warm brown sweater at the last minute.
The halls were empty because all sane people were snoozing the morning away. The door to the room Oz shared with Levi opened before I’d had the chance to work out what to say, or knock, and Oz stepped into the hallway. I watched him before he saw me standing off to one side, my heart stopping at the sight of a light bruise blooming across his jaw. He stretched his arms above his head, groaning a little as his joints popped and sleep-stiff muscles worked loose. His black hair was wet from a shower and curled around his ears, and the rings around his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept much better than I did.
“Good morning,” I said, loud enough to startle him. Unable to tear my eyes away from his marred face.
“Kaia,” he said, recovering quickly. “I didn’t know you were capable of getting up before the last possible second.”
It took me a minute to react to the unexpected, good-natured teasing. “Have you been body snatched by someone with a sense of humor? Because I need to talk to the old Oz about why he changed James Puckle’s trajectory.” I watched him carefully for any nonverbal response, but the only one I got was a quick flicker of determination in his eyes.
“There’s no reason for you to worry.”
“Oz. That’s not what you said last night. You said there were things I didn’t understand, that I should leave it alone.” I paused, watching him seriously. “And that bruise on your jaw? That makes me worry.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.” He glared, but fear lurked behind his eyes. “I did a lot of things last night I shouldn’t have done.”
The reminder of our kiss heated my cheeks and made it easier to ignore the proof that things with his father had gotten out of hand. Easier to stop wondering if it was the first time, knowing it couldn’t be. It was stupid to be so embarrassed about that kiss anyway, to let it affect me. It hadn’t meant anything, and it wasn’t like I’d never been kissed before, and by much more effective lips.
“You shouldn’t have kissed me, but—”
“I didn’t enjoy it, I promise you.”
I glared at him. It was better than kicking him in his balls, which was my first inclination. “I was going to say, before the new smartass version of Oz came out to play, that I appreciate the bailout. Also, you should know that I told Sarah.”
“You what? Why would you do that?” He turned green, like he might heave all over my sneakers any second.
At least we hadn’t eaten yet.