Page 98 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

FIFTY-FIVE

JAMES

I portaled straight into Justine's dorm. By the time we arrived, blood was seeping from Emma’s eyes and mouth.

"She's not waking up!" I shouted, my voice a raw blend of desperation and fury. Justine, sensing the urgency and seeing the grim state Emma was in, didn't waste a moment on questions she knew I couldn’t answer. Without hesitation, she took Emma from my arms and sprang into action.

"They fucked up her arm!" I said, my voice shaking with anger. I quickly removed the loose bandage that barely covered the gaping wound in her arm, revealing the extent of the damage.

"It looks like she's been sedated," Justine analyzed swiftly, her eyes scanning Emma's form.

My fists clenched; the thought of sedation stirred a surge of rage, and the desire to murder those responsible flared within me once more.

"Then don’t just stand there; do something!" I snapped. Justine raised a brow at my brutality, but I couldn't find it in me to apologize.

Emma is... fuck, she is...

"I’ll do what I can as soon as you get out," she replied calmly.

“Excuse me?” I snarled.

"Now. I need you to get out, now."

I crossed my arms. “That’s not happening. Do your healing shit and fucking hurry or we’re going to have a problem. I’m not leaving her side.” My teeth nearly grinded.

Justine’s eyes widened in shock at my tone, but quickly started to work on Emma.

“She translated too much,” Justine mumbled after doing some sort of analysis.

“Look at that,” she pointed to the blue veins manifesting on Emma’s body. “She summoned too much energy and it nearly consumed her.”

“Is she going to be all right?” The words hurt as I spoke them out loud.

Justine tore her eyes from Emma’s lifeless body as she turned to me.

“I can heal her. It’ll be painful for her, but I’ll try to keep her under as long as I can.

However, you have to teach her a better way to translate.

This is the second time I’ve treated her for consummation.

She needs to learn how to summon the appropriate amount of energy or the next time, she will die. ”

I heard her. I heard what she said. But I couldn’t focus.

“She’ll be fine?” I repeated my question.

Justine’s eyes held all the sympathy in the world. “Yes James,” she whispered, “she’ll be fine. But I need you to get out of here, and let me work. I’ll let you know when she wakes.”

I nodded, turning around, not able to watch Emma’s pale stillness for a second longer.

Leaving Justine’s dorm, I made my way through the Universitas, determined to seek out Julian for an explanation. He owed me that much. When I found him outside pacing in the Atrium, his expression mirrored my own worry. Damn it. He seemed to really care.

“She’s going to be fine,” I grounded out reluctantly.

A sigh of relief escaped him. "Thank the gods," he whispered, as he quickly conjured a bench and sat down.

I took a seat next to him. "We need to talk," I asserted, my tone brooking no argument.

"Yes, we do, James, about more than you think," Julian replied, his expression somber.

I paused, my curiosity growing. "What do you mean?"

"Am I wrong to conclude that this is the third time Radicals came after her?" he inquired, his gaze probing.

I shook my head in affirmation. "No, you'd be agonizingly right about that. She has something the Radicals want…” My voice trailed off, trying to recall whether the Council had told him about her untraceable translation.

He nodded. “Untraceable translation would be invaluable, especially now with the Great Exposure. Can’t imagine how eager the Radicals are.” He paused. “And her struggling so much with translation makes for an easy mark," he added.

So he knew about her. And he was right. And I had painfully failed her.

“How did you know where she was?” I asked.

“I told you, I keep my useful contacts close. While you were tearing down her parents’ house, I nexed my network and they gave all the intel I needed. I repaired her childhood-home by the way.”

A deep sigh escaped me as I lowered my head into my hands.

Julian had been crucial in finding Emma, and she had always backed him up, pushing me to trust him despite my doubts. Though I was still skeptical, I couldn’t ignore that I had to start relying on Emma's judgment.

After all, someone who singlehandedly managed to get out of an insane situation involving twenty-something Radicals, all determined to experiment on her in a secure facility with no means of escape, had, at the very least, earned some trust in her judgment.

Hoping he wouldn't disappoint, I decided to share with him the intel I had gathered over the last few months.

"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 to bond with her only to figure out why she's struggling with translation?"

"Not only to 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 corridor seemed 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.

Fuck. She pushed me away…