Page 200 of Cerulean Truth
"They believe the knowledge of a maga with untraceable translation will halt the Exposure due to the exception she represents to all tracking guarantees we could offer to humans," I explained reluctantly.
"I think you’re right. But how the hell did they find out about that?" Julian furrowed his brow.
Now, that was a valid question. I had looked into the possibility of a mole within our Council but hadn't uncovered any evidence leading to such a conclusion. Aside from the actual breach of information, there was no other indication pointing to the existence of a mole whatsoever.
"I have no fucking idea," I admitted, frustration seeping into my words. "Only the Council knows about her. And Emma told Enya, apparently. We suspected there might have been a mole at some point, and we've been trying to flush him or her out for months but without any results."
Julian nodded pensively.
"I don't know what to do here, Julian, but it's clear the Radicals have some kind of plan for her. I don't know what it is, but we need to protect her more than we have done until now."
Julian rose to his feet and started pacing up and down the few feet of lawn before us. “What if there was an outside of the box idea, that could give us insights on her issues with her translation?”
I frowned. “Like what?”
"She needs to translate properly. She needs to be able to defend herself. I know you've been training her for months, but have you ever considered figuring out what's blocking her on a physical level?" he asked.
"Physical? What do you mean?" I stared up at him, puzzled by his question.
"Don't you think there might be something wrong with her translation on a neurological level?" he suggested.
I pondered that. "There might be, but I don't see how there’s a solution to that," I replied, confusion clear in my tone.
He hesitated for a second. "You could propose the True Bond," he said softly.
My eyes widened. Did he just say...
"Are you insane?" I whispered in shock. "You want me tobondwith her only to figure out why she's struggling with translation?"
"Notonlyto figure it out, James, but to help her overcome her struggles entirely! If you were to bond with her, you'd have access to every thought she has, every emotion she has. You'd be able to pinpoint exactly where the struggle begins. And with her having access to yours, she might be able to unlock her own translation."
I laughed. Out loud. What he was suggesting was preposterous.
"People bond when they've been together for at least a cycle, if they ever do. It's extremely exceptional to do so anyway, and do you have any idea how invasive that would be? No more privacy for either of us? No more private thoughts, feelings, anything. She'd be crazy to agree to that! And even if she did, I'm not sure I'd even be able, I mean..." I found myself rambling, the absurdity of the suggestion sinking in.
The truth was, I had considered forming the True Bond with her—but only as a distant possibility, something for a far-off future. Although those last few days without her had made me realize how much I cared for her, loved her even, bonding with her after barely a year was next-level crazy. Suggesting something like that was...
"I get it," Julian interrupted my thoughts. "It's just too soon for you two. Look, I have to get some sleep as well. I'm exhausted. Let's talk some more over the next few days; we'll come up with something." He patted my arm reassuringly.
I nodded, but my mind drifted to a reality where Emma and I had been together for at least a cycle. How I would love for us to get there.
I didn't really notice Julian leaving, and I stayed at the Atrium for another hour, lost in thoughts, re-evaluating everything I thought I knew.
The dark corridorseemed to close in around me as I made my way toward Justine’s dorm. Faint echoes of distant conversations filled the air, but my focus on reaching Emma never wavered. She had been unconscious for three hours since our return, and when she woke up, she asked for Julian before she asked for me. I discovered this when I ran into him, leaving Justine’s dorm right when I approached.
Blind rage consumed me in more than one way; there was no illusion of control any longer, a fact he must've seen on my face as I crossed him.
"She's fine," he hurried to say, "but she almost wasn't. I think you should tell her everything you told me about the Radicals using her against the Great Exposure...."
I could have pretended I was listening, but that would have taken up too much time. Instead, I ignored him and barged into Justine’s room.
The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow emanating from a desk lamp and the scent of a delicate floral-scented fragrance sticks lingered in the air.
"James?" Emma asked, her voice thick with sleep, her eyes squinting as they adjusted to the soft light.
Shit, she’d fallen back asleep.
But I didn’t care, I rushed to the bed, took her in my arms and kissed her without reservation or concern. Her hair smelled faintly of something fruity, a scent I had come to know well and love. She felt heavenly in my arms. I wanted to deepen the kiss, but she softly pushed me away.
