“No one’s saying that.” I look at her, and she gestures. “No one with any sway. Or sense. Or who knows you even a little.”
I bob my head to convey my thanks for the sentiment, even if I’m not sure it’s true. Hard to know which has been worse: the insinuation that I intentionally injured Iro, or the fact that most of the rumours seem to laud it as a blow for justice. Largely, I suspect, because Tertius Decimus has been so staunchly against the land rights reforms of which I am now an official supporter. “Tertius Ericius thinks I should hire permanent protection. Just in case.”
“Well. Quite aside from Iro—you defected from Military to Governance. You’re wildly popular with the Octavii and Septimii, which everyone’s immediately threatened by. And you’re supporting a cause to take land away from more than half the Senate, while secretly trying to figure out who among them are traitors. All while wandering around Caten, which feels like it’s a few wrong words away from civil war on any given day.” Reproving, in a grimly affectionate way. “Maybe he has a point?”
I give a rueful chuckle. Hesitate. “Speaking of looking for traitors. You mentioned you wanted to help.”
“Of course.” Her green-eyed gaze meets mine, shining. She smooths a lock of dark hair from her face. Smile genuine and hopeful. “Anything.”
I ignore the old flutter in my chest. “If it did turn out that Military’s leadership knew about the attack. Organised it. And we managed to get a list of names, and proof.” It feels wrong to ask this of her, after what she’s told me today. But I’ve communicated at length with Ulciscor about it, and he agrees that this is our best option. “We can’t have it coming from Governance or Religion; Military would just claim we fabricated the evidence and go to war. But if someone from within were to reveal them as traitors, it would distance Military as a whole from their actions. New leadership could then be ratified by the Senate, and they could all work together to ensure that those responsible are properly punished. Which hopefully, might even lead to everyone being more amenable to negotiating on other issues, too. Let us deescalate what’s happening in Caten.”
Emissa exhales. From her expression, she saw where this was going before I got halfway through. “I’ll speak to my father.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes I do. If you can get names and evidence, it’s a good plan.” She says it gently. “You’re not worried he might be one of them?”
“No.” Her father wasn’t at Suus. Wasn’t mentioned once in the hours of conversation I overheard. “Are you?”
“He’s not a good man, but he would never put me in danger like that.”
Exactly the impression I’d had, given the way she’s always talked about him. I acknowledge it with a tight smile.
We walk a while longer. The silence more comfortable, this time. There’s been a gradual easing of the tension between us.
“Question.”
Emissa raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“When we first met, after my Transvect got attacked. Ulciscor thought maybe Veridius had you drug me with something.”
She gives me an exaggerated smile. Shows too many teeth.
“Oh, gods’ graves. Really?” It’s more laughed than vehement. Trivial compared to everything else. “Anything else I should know?”
She thinks. Smiling properly now, enjoying the release of the shared humour. “Veridius was sure you were cheating, you know. He kept accusing me of letting my feelings get in the way of finding out how you were doing it—how you kept progressing through the gods-damned classes so quickly.” She emits a little laugh of her own. “Do you know how frustrating that was? I should have rottinghatedyou. I spent two years doing nothing but prepare myself for that place. You spent two months.”
There’s a deliberate pause there. Emissa’s not a fool; she has to have wondered how an orphan from Aquiria could possibly have the education I showed at the Academy. She never asked, though. I always appreciated that.
“But the rest of it was real,” she adds softly.
We’re approaching the steps to the Transvect. I can see the others now, waiting on the platform up ahead. Dwarfed by the mass of stone and wood and glass. Emissa slows.
“You’re not coming?” I shake my head before she can answer. Annoyed at myself. “Of course you’re not coming. You and Veridius need to stay disconnected.”
“And I’m guessing the others don’t really want to see me, anyway.” A long pause. “Can you forgive me, Vis?”
Silence. Emissa watching me anxiously. I look at her. Lovely and vulnerable and opening up to me.
And some small, pained part of me can’t help but wonder if it’s real.
That’s the moment, I think, when I know. I do believe her. I believe her and I forgive her and I know that I cannot fault her for her secrets; mine are greater and deeper by far. But nor can I trust her. Not fully. Not ever, anymore. My parents were right. Love requires more. Anything less is a self-deception, a dream from which I’ll inevitably be woken.
“I forgive you. I do. But … some mistakes can’t be undone.” I don’t say it with blame. It’s an explanation. An apology. A regret. I understand everything she’s done, wouldn’t have done it differently myself. But it doesn’t change what happened. Nothing can. My voice cracks. “I could have saved him, Emissa.”
“I know.” She sucks in a shaky breath. “I know.”
At an unspoken signal we embrace, a tight, bittersweet hug that lingers as she buries her face in my shoulder. The smell of her hair makes my heart ache.
