time, sadly.”
He isn’t the general of Sector Eight’s military for nothing, I suppose. The exhaustion dripping from his presence reminds me of Lai. However, I say nothing of it. Everyone’s doing their best right now.
“Thank you for tonight, General Austin,” I say. “The Order appreciates your support, as always.”
“And I appreciate their intel.” Austin’s presence is tinged with amusement. His hand rests on the doorknob. “Don’t forget to collect the next order of supplies tomorrow, same place and time as usual. Tell Lai I say hi and that I hope she’s doing well. Noah, if you could see Kitahara out?”
“Of course, sir.”
With a final nod, Austin leaves the office and locks the door behind him. It’s just me and Noah.
For the past two months, I’ve been searching for every scrap of information I can on Noah. Yet despite the Order’s extensive intelligence network and my asking those in the Order who were in the military long before I was, there’s nothing. I know more about him from what Austin told me than I do from my fruitless search. In some ways, it makes sense. If Noah was born into the military, then of course the military would have all his files—and they’d all be confidential, given his high-ranking position as the general’s secretary and his role as a direct subordinate of the High Council.
Without more information, I can’t trust him, and yet, nothing negative has come so far of his joining my and Austin’s meetings. Nothing suspicious has occurred with our exchange of information or the supplies the military has given the Order. The Council appears no more knowledgeable about the Order than the rest of the sector. There’s no indication he’s done anything that would harm us. Yet.
I glance at Noah, but he’s merely placing the mugs he caught earlier in an already-existing pile of dirty dishes in the corner of the room. Prior to the war, he was always the one who kept Austin’s office organized and clean. Now, it appears even he doesn’t have time to take care of such mundane tasks.
“Have you been doing well lately?” I ask. “You look exhausted.”
“Who isn’t these days?” Noah asks. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
I need to take advantage of us being alone for once to learn more about him—which means we need to talk about something that will hit close to home for him. Erik and the High Council are clearly sore spots for him. We haven’t talked one-on-one since those first couple of meetings, so I don’t know the reason. However, I can find out. I don’t like cornering others with my gift, but if it’s a choice between that or potentially being betrayed, it’s not truly a choice at all. Besides, I’m worried about his connection with my friend. What if he could hurt Erik?
“Erik’s been complaining about all the work lately, too,” I say. “He keeps saying he’d rather just build furniture.”
As expected, Noah’s presence spikes when I say Erik’s name. But his smile becomes a real one. “That sounds like him,” he says. “He’s better suited to art than fighting, don’t you think?”
“I do,” I say. That, at least, isn’t a lie. “So he was drawing and building even when you knew him?”
“Always.”
“Really? How long ago did you two meet?”
Noah’s presence abruptly withdraws into itself. Cautious. His smile drops. “A few years. I don’t remember exactly when.”
He’s not lying, but that doesn’t tell me much, either. “How did you two meet? You never said.” It shouldn’t have been possible with Erik having been a rebel and Noah being a soldier. How they met could say a lot about their relationship and who exactly Noah is. By this point in our alliance, I don’t think he could possibly be a rebel, but that doesn’t mean he’s not suspicious for other reasons.
“No,” Noah says slowly. “I didn’t.”
I hold up my hands placatingly. “I’m merely curious. The only Erik I know is the one right in front of me. I just wanted to learn more about him, if he was different before he lost his memories.”
Noah looks me up and down, likely attempting to decide how sincere I am and whether or not I can be trusted. I smile; however, I don’t know if that helps or hurts. I’m not very good at creating a fake impression of trustworthiness.
Finally, he says, “He was very different then. You wouldn’t have even recognized him.” He’s not lying, but when he adds, “Sometimes, I think maybe it’s better he forgot