Chapter Eighteen

Sanchi, Amalgam of Genesis–50 NE (New Era)

“Where have you been?”

The sight of Oz waiting for me outside the decontamination chamber nearly knocked me flat on my ass. It definitely shoved me out of my Caesarion-scented dreamland.

I glared at him in an attempt to cover up my guilty face. “None of your business.”

He stepped in front of me when I tried to shove past, then pushed me back into the air lock, slamming the heel of his hand against the button to close the doors. It meant we were stuck in here another five minutes, minimum.

“Kaia. I know you were in Egypt, the days before Caesarion died. And I know you were alone.” Before I could move he reached out and yanked me toward him, running rough fingers up my arm until he felt Jonah’s cuff. “Where did you get that?”

“Illicit Cuffs for Apprentices. Same place you got yours, I guess. Did they give you the deep shit discount, too?” He let me go, and I stepped back, glaring for real now at being manhandled. “How do you know where I’ve been? Were you following me?”

“You mean like you’ve been following me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I saw you in England. You need to work on blending in.”

Son of a biscuit eater.

“Thanks for the advice,” I snapped.

“L’avenir est dans le passé.” He murmured the phrase, foreign to me, his smoky-gray eyes a mixture of fear and desperate hope.

I’d never heard the phrase before, and after all these years of Academy indoctrination there couldn’t be a Historian mantra that escaped even my sometimes sporadic attention. My brain stem tat quickly filtered the French into English, and a frown snuck onto my lips. “The future lies in the past? What the hell is that, some kind of riddle? Why are you acting so crazy?”

Disappointment crowded the other emotions from his face, and in that moment, he appeared to be the lost, scared little boy I’d met when we all arrived at the Academy seven years ago. Then it fled, making room for his anger, and I shrank back against the far wall as he took a step toward me. He seemed bigger, all of a sudden, filling up the space and making me acutely aware of the fact that I had nowhere to run.

A tray slid out, waiting to collect clothing and blood samples, but neither of us had anything to discard. I reached out and let it prick my finger, and Oz did the same.

“What’s ‘the future lies in the past?’ Why did you say that?”

“Never mind. Forget it. Why were you in Egypt? Did you go to see him?”

“I’m not talking about this with you,” I deadpanned, crossing my arms over my chest to thwart the chill from the room. At least, I told myself it was the chill from the room and not from Oz, whose cold demeanor sent panic signals zapping from my brain to my limbs.

“Caesarion.” He clenched his fingers into fists and shook them loose, over and over again, but his tone softened. “Do you seriously think you’re the first Historian tempted to observe their True Companion?”

“So what if I did want to see him? What are you going to do about it?”

“Kaia. If you knew what … If I could tell you the things I knew about your brother …” Oz dragged a hand through his too-long black hair, making pieces of it stand up in odd places. Frustration oozed from his pores, and every word that fell from his mouth confused me more.

“Oz.” I stepped toward him, swallowing the lingering fear and reaching for his hand. Remembering I knew him, that he wouldn’t hurt me.

He jerked away when I touched him, his stormy eyes wide in surprise. “Don’t.”

“What is going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me? You’re the one taking unauthorized, unsupervised travels with a stolen cuff to see a boy you were never supposed to meet.”

“How could we never be supposed to meet if we’re meant for each other? What sense does that make?” I didn’t mean to yell, or to start crying, but that didn’t stop both from happening.

Most boys fumbled when girls cried in their presence, or at least tried to offer awkward comfort, but Oz only stared. The unreadable expression on his face betrayed nothing of his feelings. “It doesn’t have to make sense. You’re abusing your Historian privileges and you know it.”

His accusation, so similar to Caesarion’s, hit me like a slap in the face. It made me cry harder because it was true. And he didn’t even know the whole of my transgressions. That not only had I traveled alone to observe Caesarion, but had talked to him. Held him, kissed him, told him the truth about us. About me. Whether or not the Elders had let us all down by hiding something, I had let everyone down, too. Yet, even now, barely able to breathe from under the guilt, I couldn’t regret it.

Wouldn’t.

“It’s not like you’ve been Mister walk the line, Oz. You’ve been traveling alone, too. We both have our secrets, and yours are worse.”

“I’d rethink that if I were you.”

“You know why I’m traveling. I’ll even tell you where I got the cuff—I didn’t steal it, I found it in Jonah’s room. He left it.” Oz’s lack of emotional reaction clenched my own fists in response, and swept confusion into my tangled web of thoughts. He wasn’t scared of anything I knew, and that scared me. “Why are you traveling?”

When he didn’t respond, I pushed harder, hoping he would confide in me. “I know you’ve been tracing the development of guns, starting in ancient China.”

The air in the room changed, electrified, and my fear from a moment ago returned. It slammed into me, wet my palms with a slick, cold sweat, but I didn’t move. It grew so thick that it couldn’t only be mine—there was too much.

“Stop. Checking. Up. On. Me.” Oz enunciated each word through clenched teeth, fury and something else, something almost like the terror slicing through me, clouded his gaze behind his thick, black spectacles.

“Or what?” I whispered.

“Or I will report what I know about your actions to Zeke and the other Elders. You will face a sanction more serious than you’re prepared for, and that’s if you’re lucky.” He stepped toward me, his hand reaching out and circling my wrist, clamping down so hard I bit my lip to stop from crying out. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, Kaia.”

The dread in my mouth tasted horrible. “Tell me.”

He ignored my pleading, more pronounced aloud than it had been in my mind. “You can’t break these rules. They’re in place for a reason, and it’s to ensure that this society we’ve worked so hard to form stays intact.”

The phrase stays intact brought Caesarion’s kind face to my mind and calm swished through me. It also reminded me of the tactics and maneuverings that colored the ancient world, and I recognized that Oz and I were in a negotiation of sorts—and that he did not hold the only hand.

“What makes you so high and mighty? You stand there and tell me that I’m such a terrible apprentice for not following the rules, but you’re doing the exact same thing!”

“I have permission and you know it.” He smirked, a mean expression hardening his gaze. This wasn’t Oz. Oz was shy and quiet and awkward and yeah, sometimes haughty, but mean? He never had been. “You know, I’ve been warned by my father not to fall for your supposed advances.”

Mortification heated my blood, but denying it was dumb. “I let them believe what they wanted.”

“So your real secret would not be found out.”

“You know my real secret, Oz, and you’ve always loved reminding all of us how much better and smarter you are. Yet you’re here threatening me instead of telling your father what you know. Why?”

“Because we’ve known each other most of our lives. I consider you a friend. Our history counts for something to me even if it doesn’t to you. And I’m warning you—I’m begging you—you’ve got to stop.” He dropped my wrist, staring a little at the red welts he’d left behind as though someone else had made them, blood draining from his face. “I’m trying to help you.”