"I want the real thing," I said. "Not the one you give Rhys."
Sorin looked up from his book. The elders' room always smelled like something burnt and old, and the three of them were in it like they always were, Sorin with his records, Petra with her arms crossed, Maren by the window.
"What we told Rhys was the truth," Sorin said.
"No. I've watched you do it. You tell him what you've found, and you leave out how far you still are from anything useful, because he's already carrying a war, and you don't want to add to it." I sat down across from Sorin without being asked. "Give me the whole thing."
Petra made a sound that might have been a laugh. "She's got you there."
Sorin closed his book. He looked at me for a moment, like he was deciding.
"You understand what you're asking," he said.
