Page 43 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

TWENTY

JAMES

On Saturday, the day of the Joint Committee’s reception, I woke up feeling uneasy, a pit in my stomach hinting at something bad to come. The ominous feeling lingered, putting me in a sour mood throughout the day. Again.

The recent news about Radicals and the possibly fragile state of international relations, protected by the Joint Committee, had never been more important to uphold. Made up of Leaders and Specialists from different Collectives, the Joint Committee was a powerful entity.

Being invited to their reception was an honor for any outsider, let alone a first cycler, which was unseen in the history of magi. Then again, there had never been a first cycler appointed as Leader, so there was that.

The invitation stood as proof of the gravity of the moment and the heavy load of duties laid on my shoulders. Though none of that made it fun.

By the time Jackson came to pick me up, my ever so present scowl was back with a vengeance.

It complemented my dark blue tux, the white shirt underneath, and the absence of a tie.

Jackson was of course all dressed up with a fancy bowtie and everything, adding that slight touch of class to my outfit by being my “date.”

Arriving at what I wish I could call a party—though it was really just a painfully dull affair with bland music playing in the background—I felt eyes pricking on the back of my head, as if someone was watching me. I turned my head left and right but couldn’t discern anything out of the order.

"James!" A voice barked my name, jolting me from my thoughts.

I swiftly turned to see Maurice gesturing for me to join him. Without hesitation, I set my champagne glass on a nearby table and followed him into the hallway, where Maria awaited us with a mix of urgency and concern etched on her face.

In an instant, my instincts as a First Offensive kicked in.

"What's the situation?" I demanded, my voice steady, my expression impassive.

Maurice leaned in, his voice urgent. "Some Resistants breached our Layers and slipped into Cyclos without clearance."

“What? How is that possible?” I hissed in shock.

"We're not sure," Maurice admitted, his frustration evident. "We've alerted the entire Council, but finding them in Cyclos, where our tracking capabilities are limited, won't be easy."

"How many are we dealing with?" I asked, keeping my tone low.

“We detected three different energy signatures, they somehow deceived our river into recognizing them as native.” Maria sounded furious, and with good reason.

"I don’t understand. How the hell are they still alive? And what's their objective here?" I pressed.

“We don’t know. Maybe all they want is a meeting with the Council?” Maurice said in a hopeful tone.

Maria scoffed. "If that were the case, they would have requested clearance instead of breaching our security."

Maurice’s mouth tightened. “Maybe they thought they wouldn’t get any clearance because of their status as Resistants .”

“More importantly, how do we find them?” I interrupted their bickering. “Now, they’re withing the sphere, it won’t be that easy, if not impossible.”

Maria spoke first. “I propose we send out a covert team, small, only a handful Offensives, to look for them and question them.”

I shrugged. “Or we could just kill them on sight. Problem solved.”

Maurice coughed and Maria straightened her back as her gaze hardened. “I know you’re technically still our First Offensive James, but by now, I expect you to think like a Leader, not like a brainless killing machine.”

My nostrils flared but suppressing a retort, I nodded curtly. "Fine. What's your plan?"

Maria looked at me a little uncertainly. “Well uhm, I was thinking maybe we could put a trace on them, track where they go, maybe see if they meet up with any Resistants of our own Collective...”

“You want to track magi inside a Collective?” Maurice gasped.

“That’s illegal, not to mention immoral.

There’s a ‘constitutional freedom of movement’ within each Collective for a reason!

I do not like the sound of it at all. The “We versus Them” is already getting out of control and we’ve barely gathered any intel on their intentions, let alone actions. ”

“You’re sounding more like an Orator than a Councilmember right now, Maurice; you realize they could be dangerous, a risk to our international security and peace? There’s a reason they came in without clearance, so we’re allowed to track them if they break the law,” Maria said rather forcefully.

“And tracking their translation would be what exactly? A peace-offering? An olive branch? I think it’ll be fuel to the fire, a fire we need to extinguish sooner than later,” he replied with equal force

“Why don’t you bubble in Cyclos, like you did in Antwerp? Preventing their escape without our permission,” I suggested swiftly, ignoring the headache their bickering was igniting.

“James is right; they’re not proven Radicals. If we treat them as such without indication, they’ll slip even further away from us. We must try not to polarize… A bubble is a good compromise.” Maurice looked meaningfully at his wife.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “I’ll bubble Cyclos in, and we won’t put a trace on them, but I want you,” she said, pointing at me, “to converse with them and try to reason with them to get behind the consensus.” There was some definite heat in her eyes.

"I'll do what's necessary," I affirmed. “I will even join the search party and lead the Offensives if you like.”

Maria waved away my suggestion swiftly, “That won’t be necessary, but you’ll be kept informed of the first response. I’ll see to it.” She marched away without saying goodbye.

Maurice glanced at me while I observed his wife stomping off.

“You’ll make a fine leader, James,” he winked. “Anyone who can get my wife to back down, is of exceptional character.”

“Well, I had a little help.”

Maurice laughed and clapped me on the back. “Go now, have fun, young friend. We’ll keep you posted.” He turned around and left me standing there alone.

I sighed defeated, knowing that interaction was probably the most fun I would have the entire night. As I watched the who’s who of magi society mingling, I realized surviving the evening without copious amounts of alcohol would be near to impossible.

The crowd here was overly fashionable and elitist and maybe I should have been impressed, but somehow, I was mainly.

..bored. The Offensive side of me resisted doing well at these functions.

I tried my best to conform to the expectations set forth for a Leader, but fuck me, did they have to be so dull?

I was sipping at my second glass of champagne when she walked in.

Emma.

I practically spat my champagne back in the glass. What the hell? How was she here? And why? She wasn’t a Leader nor Specialist. Hell, she was hardly a maga at all at this point.

But my musings about her unexpected appearance were quickly drowned out by a flood of other thoughts, as my eyes roamed freely up and down her body.

My throat tightened, and I was suddenly parched to the bone.

I tried to look away but the blue cocktail dress she was wearing—which hugged her curves, showed off her tanned legs and accentuated her daring cleavage—made that impossible.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in her beauty, her elegance and that ever-present hint of defiance. Fuck me.

When she caught me staring a few inches below her face, I braced myself for a flash of anger. But to my surprise, she responded with a crooked smile and a flirty wink.

Did she really just wink at me?

She picked up a glass of champagne, and without another thought, I started to make my way to her.

Like a predator, closing in on its prey, I walked over slowly, my eyes never leaving hers.

As I neared, I could see her lips part slightly and I noticed a subtle hitch in her breath.

She was clearly as affected by whatever this was between us, as I was.

As calm and composed as I had been in the face of a threat breaching our Layers, as nervous I felt about approaching her.

My heart was racing and adrenaline was coursing through my veins but before I could reach her, a woman named something unmemorable grabbed my arm and started introducing me to someone else unmemorable.

I remained polite and kept up with the conversation but my eyes stayed glued to Emma as she waded through the room.

I observed her as she engaged with a few people I knew.

I saw her talking to Philip (which annoyed me for no particular reason), and after a while, I watched as she walked over to Jackson.

I should’ve been glad she was blending in so well, and honestly, I was.

But when she started talking to Jackson, it got under my skin.

Actually, it bothered me to no fucking end.

I wasn’t jealous. Why would I have been?

Not like it was Matthew, who considered himself such a player, he’d probably try to put the moves on her.

This was Jackson. Who was a friendly, intelligent man with whom Emma had actually a lot in common as she’d been a lawyer in a previous life and he was basically the magi-version of that.

So of course, they should talk. And I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t.

But, when I saw them engaging in what was obviously more than just a polite chat, I did wonder. I mean, they were laughing and shit. How does a polite chat turn into friendly banter? And when does banter between two people become flirting?

The notion of them flirting hadn’t fully registered before my feet were already in motion. Emma laughed again and touched Jackson’s arm. My jaw clenched and I crossed the room in two large strides, now standing next to them, ready to bring up my fist to my best friend’s teeth.

Emma looked at me in surprise, then smirked and I could tell by the glint in her eyes she knew what was going through my mind. No idea how, but she knew.