The Fever King (Feverwake #1)(103)

“Shut. Up.” Noam couldn’t quite breathe. The air in his lungs felt like acid. He was drowning in it.

Sacha gazed back at him dispassionately. “Then let’s change the subject. Tell me what Lehrer is really after—because I know he doesn’t care about being king again.”

Noam imagined Sacha with his neck on a guillotine. That was how Lehrer had dealt with traitors after the catastrophe, after all.

A pretty thought. Noam exhaled, long and slow. Steady. Calm.

This headache was fucking stunning.

“I don’t know,” Noam said.

Sacha was grasping at straws, trying to make Noam angry enough to give something away. That meant he was almost out of time.

Good.

Sacha rubbed his temple with two fingers. Was Noam imagining it, or did he look paler now than he had a moment ago?

At last, Sacha sighed again and met Noam’s eyes, his mouth drawn into a thin line. He gestured toward the crown on his head. “Do you know why I wear this thing?” he asked.

“Because you’re an asshole?”

“It’s a Faraday cage. Just like the one you’re sitting in right now.” Sacha reached up and lifted the circlet from his head, placing it on the table between them. It was plain, no ornamentation, just a seamless steel-and-copper band.

Of course. Noam had sensed the copper worked into the circlet that time in Lehrer’s apartment. It didn’t seem like a Faraday cage then, but now that Sacha said it, that was obviously what the crown really was.

“Plus a few magical additions, courtesy of your friend Mr. Shirazi,” Sacha said. “It’s always nice to have a telepath on your side when you’re up against someone like Minister Lehrer.”

Noam frowned and crossed his arms again. “Yeah, I can tell you and Dara have a lot in common. Why don’t you stop being cryptic and just say what you’re trying to say?”

Sacha gave him an appraising look. “All right,” he said. He picked up the circlet, rubbing one thumb against its steely curve. “I had this made so that no one could use magic to influence the electrical signals in my brain. I spent weeks avoiding Calix while it was being built. Didn’t want to risk hearing even one word from that silver tongue of his.”

Noam’s throat felt strange, constricted. Sacha laughed softly.

“Calix can convince you to do anything. Absolutely anything. He might have to tell you verbally, and as far as I can tell, he can only influence a few people at a time, but it’s a remarkable power.”

Noam . . . he wasn’t hearing this.

Sacha was lying again. Right?

“Wait,” he started, but Sacha overrode him.

“It’s subtle. He doesn’t even have to tell you to do something outright. He’ll persuade you, piece by piece, until you can’t tell which thoughts are your own and which are ones he put there.” Sacha leaned forward abruptly, close enough that Noam reflexively jerked back. “Who are you, Noam álvaro? How much of you is still you, and how much is him?”

It was a trick, had to be.

Noam knew this would happen. Sacha was just trying to sow the seeds of doubt. Make Noam distrust Lehrer, or at least doubt him. He knew that.

And it was working.

Was that kind of thing even possible? Magic was . . . you had to understand whatever you were trying to do. Like physics. But mind control? What the hell would that even involve? An understanding of . . . of human psychology?

Lehrer had said presenting powers were different. Unpredictable. That they could be anything.

Sacha was looking at him with grim satisfaction on his face, like he thought he’d just made his play and won the game.

Sick. This was fucking sick.

Do I even trust Lehrer? Or do I just think I do?

“Who else knows about this?” Noam said, words coming out tight and aggressive. “If you were telling the truth, someone else would have figured it out too. Abilities have to go on record. You can’t keep something like this secret.”

Sacha snorted. “My boy,” he said, “how many people who know about his power do you think Calix has left alive?”

The question hung in the air, gas waiting for a flame.

Beneath the table, Noam’s hands gripped his knees, nails digging in. “You, for one.”

“Those in the Defense Ministry loyal to Calix are seizing the city as we speak. Even inside this building, his witchings have turned on us. Oh, my people are putting up a good fight, but we’ll soon be surrounded. I suspect my days are numbered.”

Noam was going to throw up. For a reeling moment he was so sure of it, was half-out of his chair before the sickness ebbed.

“So you have no proof,” Noam insisted, swallowing hard. “You could be making this up. How do I know Lehrer’s even staging a coup?”

“I don’t need proof,” Sacha said evenly. “You already know I’m telling the truth.”

Sacha placed the circlet over his brow once more and stood. He lingered there a moment, fingertips brushing the back of his chair. “Your friend Dara knows Lehrer better than anyone. I’m given to understand his telepathy makes him one of the only people Calix can’t influence. So why do you think Dara turned on him?” A thin smile. “Consider that, Noam, while you decide how much you’d like to tell me.”

Sacha left. The door slid shut behind him, and Noam sat there, staring at his own white-faced reflection in the one-way mirror.