But maybe one that I wouldn’t have to leave unanswered, if I played my cards right. I needed to find out why the journals would be stored here like this, as if they were important, and that meant learning about the subject matter. From the one person most likely to know.
“So Sage might know what plastic surgery is?” I asked, an idea beginning to form.
Quess looked thoughtful, and then shrugged. “If anyone knows, it’s Sage.”
“What are you thinking, Liana?” Leo asked, looking up from the desk drawer he was slowly opening. I felt an urge to beg him to stop, worried that the wood would somehow disintegrate into pieces if it was moved too much, but bit it back to consider his question.
Several reasons for going to Sage had been piling up in the last few days. I had questions about Jasper, where the vid file to my fight with Devon was, and now plastic surgery—plus the questions about an alien girl who had visited the Tower twenty-five years ago. I wasn’t going to ask all of them, (obviously), but I did want answers to quite a few of them, starting with this.
If the legacies had this plastic surgery, I wanted to know what they were using it for.
Of course, the downside to going to Sage was that I wasn’t sure where we stood. He had voted against upholding the results of the Tourney—and me—so I wasn’t exactly confident that he would be willing to talk to me. I could be waiting days, if not weeks, to see him. Longer if he really didn’t think I belonged on the council. Oh, and of course, he could always be part of the legacy group out to get me, so there was that.
Still, I had to try. I had been meaning to already, and had put it off after Leo and I were attacked, but there was no better time than the present. He’d also offered to give me advice if I ever needed it, and hopefully he meant it. But even if he hadn’t, I was pretty confident I had a good way in that would guarantee a meeting with him—although, I wasn’t going to offer it upfront. I’d wait to see what his first reply was.
“That it’s time to talk to Sage,” I replied in answer to Leo’s question. I reached out and grabbed one of the magazines, holding it up. “And I’ve even got something to butter him up.”
Leo and Quess exchanged glances, and then looked around the small office. “What about this?” Quess asked. “Should we let Dylan take a look at it?”
“In a little while,” I said slowly, thinking. The first thing that came to mind was that I wanted to clear the room of all these treasures. They were too precious to be lying around, and I didn’t want Dylan getting an idea of what the bigger picture might be until I knew I could trust her. I recalled my earlier thought of pairing her with Maddox, and decided to continue with that plan, with one slight delay: moving everything of value out.
It took me a minute to figure out where to hide it all—someone would obviously notice if we hauled a wooden desk to my quarters—but then I figured, why haul it there when there was a perfectly good storage room next to us through a door in the corner, complete with broken lights and sealed piles of boxes we could hide everything in? For a little while, at least.
“First, call Zoe, Eric, and Maddox so we can get everything out of this room that we can. We’ll move it into the other room and wrap the furniture in plastic, but the journals go to our quarters. I think they’re important, and that the legacies will be back for them.”
Quess nodded and set down the magazine, then moved off to make the call. I turned back to the stack, now more curious than horrified, but paused as Leo’s concerned gaze hit me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and just like that the memory was back, tearing through me faster than the blood could drain from my face.
I reached up to touch the undamaged flesh on my neck, but he moved faster, grabbing my hand and pressing it against his heart. “I was so scared,” he said raggedly, pulling me up against the hard wall of his chest until there wasn’t a millimeter of space between us. His heart thundered under my hand, and I realized his breathing was hard. “All that blood…”
His hands smoothed over me again, and I realized that my close brush with death hadn’t only affected me. “I’m okay,” I told him, recognizing that this time it was his turn to need comfort. I slid my free arm around his waist and tightened it. I wasn’t able to draw him closer, but that wasn’t the point. I was his anchor, the only thing keeping him from freaking out, and I was happy to provide the support he needed.
Especially because he was trying to do the same for me.
His grip tightened as he rested his cheek against the top of my head, fitting me neatly under his chin. “Never again, Liana. You never rush in first again, okay?”
I nodded, but apparently that wasn’t enough for him, because he drew away and shook my shoulders. “I mean it,” he growled, a possessive edge to his voice that should’ve made me quiver with fear, but instead stirred a low thrum of excitement that made me suddenly hungry for more than his arms around me. I needed something—anything—to distract me from what had happened not even an hour ago.
He speared me with a stern look, oblivious to the effect he was having on me. “You will never, ever enter a room unless you are behind someone!”
“Technically I was behind Tian,” I pointed out absentmindedly. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was saying, to be honest. My eyes were focused on his mouth, my need mounting.
He growled angrily, but then softened, his fingers reaching up to trace over the lines of my jaw, cheeks, nose, eyebrows. “We’d all be lost without you,” he told me. “If you died…”
I could tell there was more he was struggling to say—an undercurrent to his words that made me think that when he said “we”, he meant “I”—and warmth bloomed in my chest.
A small voice told me to stop, but it was lost in the overwhelming rush of tenderness and a need to feel something that could transcend both our fears. On impulse, I went to the tips of my toes, drawing my face closer to his.
He watched me for a second, his cheeks flushed and his eyes hooded in question, and I paused, wondering if maybe he was holding back because of Grey and what happened on the catwalk. But then his mouth dipped down and captured my own.
He wasn’t gentle about it. He kissed me like he was drowning and I was his only source of oxygen, nipping at my lips until I parted them under his. His tongue swept in, smooth and hot and teasing, and I moaned, my hands gripping his uniform as I melted into him.
Leo groaned, and then pressed me back until my hips hit the table behind me and I was effectively trapped. The feeling drove me wild, and my hands exchanged their grip on his shoulders for one on his hair, pinning him in place. His hands dropped from my shoulders to my hips, holding me firmly against him.
He broke the kiss with a gasp, and ignored my hungry cry to spear me with another look. “Promise me,” he whispered hoarsely, fear drowning out the lust in his eyes. I hated that my recklessness had put it there, and regretted not waiting for him more than he knew. “I don’t care if what I’m feeling is Grey or me. I can’t ever stand to see you like that again. Promise.”
I swallowed, his seriousness dragging me back to reality, and nodded. “I promise,” I said.
The relief in his eyes was palpable, and he dragged me to his chest and held me close, his actions telling me that he just needed to hold me, to feel that I was whole and alive. I wanted more, but I didn’t push—this would do as well.
We stood like that for several moments, taking solace in each other, before Quess politely cleared his throat, making us both jump and turn toward him. “Everyone’s on their way,” he announced, barely able to hide the smile on his face. “Oh, and Maddox says your brother is apparently looking for you.”
Crap. Alex. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. I’d forgotten to get back to him after the attack yesterday, and he was undoubtedly angry about it. I’d have to net him soon and calm him down.
“Thanks, Quess,” I said tiredly, trying to figure out when I could even do so. I could net him now, while we worked, but honestly, I was too emotional f
rom the attack, and this stuff needed to be moved before anyone else decided to come back and see what we were up to. I didn’t want any of the legacies coming back before we had hidden these things. I was sure the legacies were expecting me to bring a full contingent of Knights up here to scour the place, but I wasn’t prepared to throw up the undoc alarm just yet. Doing so would only send them deeper into hiding, and I would lose any chance of catching them. So we needed to move quickly, before they realized that there weren’t as many people after them as they thought there would be, and doubled back to see what was going on.
I was betting that if this stuff was gone, they’d have no reason to stick around, which would make it safe for Dylan and Maddox to check out later. A part of me wanted to use that, to set up a trap to catch them if they did return, but I had too much on my plate trying to find a way to rescue Jasper, and I needed as many people as possible working on that.
And then I needed to schedule an appointment with Sage. This was my second brush with the legacies in a number of days, and I wanted to know what was going on. If he had some insight he could share about this plastic surgery stuff, then it took priority. There had to be a reason that the legacies were keeping those journals, and I wanted to know why they were so important.
But after that… I’d call Alex. I just had to get through the rest of this.
“Let’s go ahead and start pulling stuff out while we wait,” I suggested.
Leo reluctantly nodded and pulled away. Quess’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t utter a word as he reentered the room to get started.
Which was good—I wasn’t entirely sure I could suffer teasing about what was going on between Leo and me. Not when I wasn’t even sure what it was yet, myself.
And I wasn’t going to think about that right now, either. Better to keep my head down and get to work—which was exactly what I did.
26
I was a little surprised that Sage sent an immediate reply to my request for a meeting. In fact, I was glad that I had waited until every medical journal and scrap of wood was out of the house, because I wouldn’t have had time to help. He was ready to receive me now, it seemed, and I would’ve felt guilty having to abandon the others for the meeting. Doubly so since it seemed Leo was now determined to go with me wherever I went.
Quess was cleaning up my blood when we left, and it was hard to look away from it and keep myself from rubbing my throat, but Leo held my hand the entire way, sending me warmth and reassurance through our physical connection.
We went back to our quarters to take a quick shower and change, and then headed over to the Medica. As soon as we arrived, an intern—Martina—rushed over to us to explain that Sage was in the greenhouse and that she would escort us to the elevators. No one but Sage and his personal assistants were allowed in the area. When I asked her why that was, she explained that Sage was very protective of the plants they grew for medicinal purposes because they were worth more than, as she put it, “the life of one measly doctor”.
I wasn’t sure why I found that amusing. Maybe because Martina pitched her voice down to an exaggerated version of Sage’s as she spoke, not caring that it was inappropriate to be mocking the head of her own department in front of the head of another. Or maybe it was because I could picture Sage saying it, with the crooked grin and spark of humor that were ever-present on his face. Either way, I had to fight back a laugh as she deposited us in front of the elevator.
We were silent on the trip. Part of that was because I was preparing myself for what I was expecting to be a very delicate interview. I had a plan—a way in—and my requests firmly in mind. Namely, I wanted the vid file from the fight with Devon, information on Jasper, and to know what the hell plastic surgery was. The requests were all tricky, and the second to last one doubly so, because too many questions about Jasper could show our hand in regard to what we knew. If Sage was an enemy, he might figure out we knew about the fragment AIs and send his people after me to figure out what I knew. They could figure out we had Jang-Mi and try to steal her back—or worse, discover Leo. I had to be delicate about it, and only ask the question if there was a natural way to progress into it. I couldn’t force it, no matter how much I wanted to.
I still didn’t feel entirely ready when we pulled to a stop in front of a door marked Greenhouse 5, but I squared my shoulders and hit the button to open the door.
“Signal me if you need backup,” Leo said softly as the door slid aside. I gave him a nod and stepped in. Leo had to wait outside, unfortunately. But I knew that if I got in trouble, he’d find a way to get in and help me.
The door closed behind me, and I took a moment to summon up a deep calm before looking around. When Martina had mentioned a greenhouse, I had expected plants, but nothing like this. Instead of the harsh, bright white light of the Medica, the lights in here were warm and yellow, reminding me of the lamps used to emulate the different daytime settings in the atrium around the Citadel. Everything else was colored green. Shelves and shelves of plants that I had never seen before. Plants with long, flexible vines that spilled over the edges and dangled down; plants that had tight, folded buds that reminded me of heads of cabbages, only the leaves were smaller and more uniform; and others that had purple and white flowers growing from a single stalk.
I couldn’t help but gape at them as I made my way down the long walkway separating the rows of shelves, peering along the aisles between them in search of human life. I found one person wearing a full white suit that covered everything except their face, which was obscured by a pair of goggles and a large white mask with blue filtration holes off to the sides. I was alarmed for a second, until I saw them holding a spray canister in one hand and realized they were only using the mask for whatever chemicals they were spraying. If I got closer, I’d need one too, but I was fine where I was.
I continued to walk, and eventually the rows of shelves were replaced with tables, where hundreds of small pots bearing sprigs of life sat.
Sage was halfway down one of the tables, seated on a stool, his already-stooped form hunched over a small tree—the tiniest tree I’d ever seen. He was carefully snipping tiny branches from it.
He glanced my way as I approached him, then turned back to his work. “Hello, Liana,” he said, cutting another branch. I came around him to stand at the edge of the table, just to the side of where he was sitting, and watched him for a second as he continued to cut small branches away.
“I’ve never seen a tree like that,” I commented. Seemed like a safe start. “Why is it so small?”
“It’s a bonsai tree,” he replied without shifting his focus. “Produces lots of oxygen, and the bark has several medicinal properties. They require a lot of work, though; they’re always trying to get bigger, and if they do, they’ll suffocate themselves, trapped in this tiny pot. So we constantly have to cut them back. Keep them in their place so they can continue to thrive.” He chuckled at that and leaned back in his chair, admiring his work. “That’ll do,” he declared after a moment, setting the clippers down and dusting his hands.
He gingerly stepped off the stool and picked up a walking stick that I hadn’t noticed leaning against the table next to him. “So, I was a little surprised to get your message,” he told me as he reached for the pot with the tree. “All new councilors find their way to me eventually—can’t seem to resist seeking advice from the longest-serving elected official, heh, heh—but never after only two days in office.” He flashed me a wry smile and started to head over to another table, where similar trees were lined up. “I can’t decide if that makes you smarter than most, or completely inept.”
I blinked at him, surprise rolling through me. He thought I was here for advice? That was interesting. I studied him for a second and then decided not to correct his assumption right now. It’d be interesting to see where he went with this. He could, I thought, reveal something without intending to.
“Oh?” I said, managing to put mild interest into my voice. “And what do you
think?”
He gave me a canny look as he placed the tree down on the table. “Smarter than most. But that’s not necessarily a good thing. Too much thinking can lead to the invention of problems.”
I cocked my head. “Do you think I’ve invented a problem?”
He arched one white eyebrow and tsked. “You know you did, when you voted against CEO Monroe’s request. I’m sure she’s already given you the harsh edge of her tongue, of course, and explained why. That’s why you’re here, right? To pick my mind on how to develop better relationships with your fellow councilors?”
He chuckled and ducked his head up and down in a repetitive motion, agreeing with himself, as if that was the only reasonable explanation for the meeting—that I needed a mentor. I cocked my head at him, suddenly curious about how many others had come to him over the years, and why. “How many other councilors have you given advice to?” I asked.
“Oh, dozens and dozens by now,” he said cheerfully. “Being the oldest man in the Tower has its ups and downs, but I never get tired of teaching and helping out. It keeps me young.” He winked at me, and I shook my head. It was hard not to smile at his cheerfulness, even if he was being vague with his answer.
“Anyway, the only way you’re going to soothe Sadie is to show her that you trust in her abilities. Maybe the next time a server goes down in the Citadel, or a lash-way door goes haywire, you can ask her to personally take a look. Give her some excuse about not wanting to appear incompetent. Sadie is a smug and arrogant girl who only likes it when you are giving her accolades.”
“Do you think that will get her to back off the investigation so we can vote on the expulsion chambers?” I asked.