Jess watched the other two walk out, and when they were out of earshot, he said, “Do I really look so feeble I need help, Squad Leader?” As he said it—snarled it, really—he realized that he’d been ready to fight. Eager, even.
So was she, because in three long strides Glain was across the room, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him upright from the chair. He knocked the Blank off the table, and the thump of impact froze them both for a moment as they looked down.
Then she shook him. Hard. “Go on, Brightwell, test me today. See how far you get!” He looked into her eyes, and his own restless anger and frustration faded because he saw it mirrored in hers. He slowly held up his hands, and she let go and stalked a few steps away. Paced. After a moment, she bent and picked up his book to pass it back to him.
“Should I even ask what’s put you in this mood?” he said. She cut him a look so sharp it had edges on it.
“Captain Feng. He made it abundantly clear that I have some choices to make,” Glain said. “Hard ones.”
“Your career or your friends,” he said. “You knew that was coming, didn’t you?”
“I never wanted any of you as friends! I came here to succeed, and that requires focus. You know that. I know you do.”
He did. He was capable of the same ruthlessness when required. Achievement here at the Library was an altar on which one sacrificed many things . . . friendship being the least of them. To go on up the ranks, knowing what he did now—that would require sacrificing his morals. Ethics. His soul.
He also knew that Glain wanted—no, needed—to succeed. She tried not to show how much it meant to her, but it was as clear as the Lighthouse’s beacon. “Do what you have to do,” he told her quietly. “No one will blame you. Least of all me. I’m a selfish bastard, anyway.”
She let out a strange, pressurized little laugh, and then caught her breath. Fought for control for a moment, and when she’d achieved it, deliberately relaxed. “We can’t talk here,” she said. “Come on.”
She led him back to his quarters, and waited until he was inside and the door shut again before saying, “You went to the Lighthouse, didn’t you? Were you seen?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I talked to Khalila. She’s willing to help.” Out of habit, they both kept their voices low. Best to assume unfriendly ears were everywhere, especially now.
Glain frowned. “I don’t like involving her,” she said. “Of all of us, she’s the one with the most to lose. And what about Dario? Do you trust him?”
“I don’t always like him, but trusting him is another matter, and of course I do. Fair warning: he’ll still give us grief just because it’s his nature,” Jess said. “He’s angry about Thomas, though. I trust him to do whatever’s required.”
She nodded and sat down on Jess’s bed, leaving him to pull his desk chair close. “What were you and the others clashing about back there?”
“Tariq.”
She hadn’t been expecting that, and he saw the shift in her body language. Some might have seen it as defensive, but he knew it was more self-defense against her own pain. “I should have realized that they’d blame you and said something first. Sorry.”
He shrugged a little and kept silent. Nothing much to say.
“I’ve sent the death notification to his family,” she said. “It was my place, as his commanding officer. I suppose I had to learn how that felt sooner or later. Would rather it had been later, and for a better cause.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Not the truth, of course. I said it was a training accident, very regrettable, and that he performed his duties with great integrity and concern for his fellow recruits.”
He let that sit for a moment before he said, “Did you suspect him at all?”
“Not really. I knew he had questionable friends. I certainly didn’t expect him to try to put a bullet in a Scholar!”
“And here I thought you automatically suspected everyone of the worst.”
“Let’s just say I never assume the best. But Tariq’s dead, and it seems likely he was killed by those who paid him, for failing in his mission. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Jess said. “Do you suspect anyone else in the squad?”
“I have to suspect everyone. Including you, I suppose.”
“Well, that’s fair.” Jess cleared his throat. “About Thomas . . . Feng said you had to make a choice—”
“He did,” Glain said, and met his eyes squarely. “And I have. You know what it is.”
She and Dario have something in common after all, Jess thought. They didn’t agonize about a decision. They just made it, and damn the consequences.
“Khalila and Dario are trying to find us more information about the secret prison,” he told her. “What you said earlier, about the Black Archives . . . do you think there’s a chance that information about Thomas might be there?”
“It’s where the Library keeps anything secret, so of course.”