I wait for him to swallow a mouthful of his lunch while my own turns in my stomach. I exhale determinedly—facing Noam is a new kind of battle. Strange and without weapons, but a battle nonetheless. I had to leave here with what I came for.

“The sentinels aren’t telling the citizens about you,” I say. “I found out through listening around. They’re telling everyone they are getting their knowledge from the scholars. Why?”

Noam wipes his mouth on a napkin. “They don’t want anyone looking for me.”

“And why not?”

“Because they can’t let the truth get out,” he replies. “The sentinels are losing a battle they brought on themselves.” He pauses, his dark brown eyes reading my expression. “I doubt that the sentinels ever shared that the humans offered peace a long time ago.”

I grip the chair beneath me. If I had my knives, I’d go over them with my hands to steady myself, but for now, the chair will have to do. “I don’t understand. The humans have never wanted peace.”

“Oh yes, they have,” Noam replies. He sets down his fork and leans back, folding his arms. “Balmora has been suffering a famine for years now. Around the time I left, humans offered peace in hopes we’d help feed them. But we refused.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there, of course,” he replies. “I implored the king to accept the offer. Think of all the warriors that this city has lost to battles with the humans. We had the chance to end it, but the king and the other kingdoms chose not to.”

I look out at the sea, not sure how to process all that I am hearing. “You say that like you know everything.” I ask. “How can you be sure?”

Noam smiles, but not kindly. “I was a sentinel myself. I know how they think. The sentinels like things the way they are,” he goes on, confidence ringing in his tone like a Tower bell. “They always have. They will always choose stability over change. I wanted to give change a chance, so I left to live with the humans in one of their villages in the mountains. There, they welcomed me. Gave me shelter and let me stay. I proved my point that some humans would work with us if we tried. But it’s too late now.”

“You left to live with our enemy. What about Garradin?” Noam flinches at the name. “What about your people, your family? What about loyalty?”

The last of these comes out as a shout, leaving a louder silence in its wake. I bite back the apology that rises in my throat. I’m not sorry. I’m furious, and confused.

“I get that you’re helping the sentinels now. And that’s good,” I add on half-heartedly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you deserted.”