The Immortal Crown

CHAPTER 17

Gemman Gods

Seeing Justin go immobile as a raven appeared out of thin air had been startling to Mae. And yet, that was nothing compared to when the raven suddenly returned without warning, bursting in through the small window in a flurry of squawks and dark feathers. It circled once around the room and then flew straight at Justin, as though it might attack him—only to vanish an inch before it made contact. The moment it did, Justin began gasping and sputtering, like a drowning man finally able to breathe air again. It was the first movement he’d made in an hour.

Mae sprang from her position by the door, moving instantly to his side. She put an arm around him as he coughed and was surprised to feel that his skin was burning up. He half-heartedly tried to push her away and sputtered out, “Going to be sick . . . get something . . .”

There were no bowls or trashcans in the room, so she grabbed the next best thing: the hat that Carl had given him. Justin dry heaved into it a couple of times, and Mae left him for the guesthouse’s bathroom, returning with a cup of water. His stomach settled, he accepted the water greedily but only took a few sips before handing it back to her and collapsing onto the bed. Mae had some experience with battlefield wounds, but illness was beyond her—particularly one with a supernatural cause.

“What happened?” she asked, smoothing back his sweat-soaked hair. The fever had come on instantly.

His eyes glittered brightly as he stared through her. “The touch of the god,” he said. “And the downfall of the stream . . . but they can’t right? Too much redundancy. No one can take it down. The god . . . he will know what to do . . .”

Mae managed to get him to take another sip of water, and then he sank into a heavy sleep. She made a wet washcloth for his face and let him rest his head in her lap as she stared around the room helplessly, wishing the ravens that pestered him so much would come talk to her.

“I don’t suppose you’ll pop into my head and let me know what’s going on?” she said aloud. But no response came. She didn’t have the benefit of answers from supernatural entities. All she had was a knife, but she certainly wasn’t going to use it now and risk losing time, not when Justin might need her in his current state. He’d warned her of the price for supernatural involvement. Was this what he was talking about? Her impression had always been of a greater, more metaphysical cost, not something so acute and immediate.

He remained warm to the touch, but his breathing grew even and regular, and she hoped that solid sleep would cure whatever this ailment was. A knock at the door an hour later forced her to gently remove him from her lap and admit Lucian into the room. He handed her a plate of food as his gaze drifted to Justin’s sleeping form.

“He really is sick,” said Lucian. “I thought maybe . . .”

“You thought what?” prompted Mae when he didn’t continue.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Is there anything I can do? Do we need to find a doctor?”

Mae set down the plate and handed Lucian the hat that Justin had been sick in. “You can get rid of this,” she said. “And make apologies to Carl.”

Lucian wrinkled his nose and promptly set the hat outside of the room. “Noted. Anything else? Anything else I can do . . . for you? I hate that you’re locked away like this . . . though, honestly, I don’t want to see you suffocated in all those scarves either.”

There was legitimate concern in his voice, and it occurred to her that the unvoiced thought he’d hinted at might be that Justin had faked being sick in order to arrange some sort of liaison with her. I’ve given so little encouragement, she mused. And yet he remains interested. What should I do to be clearer? That was followed by a more startling thought: Should I be clearer?

Mae had never played the games other girls in her caste and social status had seemed to love so much. And as an adult, her dealings with men had generally been straightforward as well. She ended things that needed to be ended and didn’t lead others on for her own gain or ego gratification. Justin had told her not to mention her niece to Lucian, but she now wondered if that was really the best course of action. Surely there might be a way to approach this that didn’t bring up the supernatural aspect at all.

“This is a hard country for women,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m glad I wasn’t born into it and feel sorry for those who were—especially since they don’t know any better. I’ve heard stories . . .” She paused to glance away, as though too overcome to go on. “I’ve heard of them stealing women and girls, not just from the provinces but from the RUNA too. Is there any truth to that?”

“In my experience, you can’t put anything past anyone,” he told her grimly. “Anything’s possible—but if it does happen to us, it doesn’t happen very often. Our border’s too locked down. It’s not easy for them to sneak over and snatch girls.”

Unless castals are just handing them over, Mae thought bitterly. To Lucian, she said, “‘Not very often’ is still too often. Is there anything you could do to get them back?”

He shook his head. “Finding them would be next to impossible.”

”Physically, it might be obvious,” she said. “Less or even no Cain.

And then all you’d have to do is a genetic test to match their parents to our registry.”

“They’d have to be in the RUNA for that. We don’t have the means to test here, and the Arcadians certainly aren’t going to let us bring them back based on a hunch over physical appearance. Even if we had some kind of hard proof that someone was a Gemman national, the politics of it would be sticky—especially if she’d been here long enough and was brainwashed into this system. An Arcadian wife with four kids isn’t going to want to come back, especially since they’re all taught that we’re godless servants of evil.”

Mae wondered if the same would hold true for a girl of eight. She made no response, but her face must have given away her dismay. Lucian gently touched her arm and drew her nearer.

“I understand your concern,” he told her. “I don’t want to see anyone stuck in this system, born to it or not. If there was something I could do, I would, but it’s out of my control.”

Mae smiled, though she didn’t feel much humor. “You’re going to be one of the two most powerful people in the RUNA. Is anything going to be beyond you?”

He gave her a long, level look, and when he answered, she wasn’t sure if they were still talking about the girls. “Some things just might be.”

Behind her, Justin groaned in his sleep, and she hurriedly moved back to the bed. “I should sit with him,” she told Lucian. “I’ll let you know if he gets worse, but hopefully he’ll just sleep it off.”

“Ah,” said Lucian. “It’s one of those things.”

Mae realized he’d misunderstood and thought Justin had overdosed but decided not to clarify. Better for Lucian to think Justin had popped one too many of his daily stimulants than know that he’d been communing with supernatural forces.

She sat by Justin’s side until morning, when his fever finally broke. He woke up, face drawn and exhausted, but eyes much clearer than they had been. She helped him sit up and brought more water, waiting until he’d had his fill before broaching what had happened.

“Do you remember anything?” she asked. “You were kind of out of it.”

“In more ways than you can imagine,” he said with a grimace. “I was out of my body . . . and in Magnus’s. We flew to the temple and spied on the Grand Disciple.” Justin suddenly straightened up. “Fuck, Mae. That nut wants to take out the media stream. He actually thinks he can send hackers or something with those missionary lecturers to do it and then launch an invasion.”

She blinked in astonishment. “You said something like that . . . but I thought you were just delirious. You also said there’s redundancy built into the stream, which is true. It’s nearly impossible to take down.”

“Then why was he so confident?” Justin raked a hand through his disheveled hair, his face lined with thought. “They have nothing comparable to that in their infrastructure. Nothing. Even if they had programmers from the provinces—hell, even the EA—they wouldn’t have the knowledge needed to crack our system.”

“Maybe you should tell the others.”

“With what proof?” Justin sighed. “I mean, I guess it’s all a moot point if I find a way to stall the Grand Disciple’s request. But then . . . should I? If they really do have intel, then that’s something we need to find out. If only there was a way to—”

Someone knocked at the door, and when Mae called a greeting, she saw Val’s face appear. The other praetorian grinned upon seeing Justin sitting up. “Well, well, you are alive. Barely. The senator’s report wasn’t so upbeat the last time he saw you.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be my normal sunny self for a little while,” said Justin, “but yes, it looks like I’ll survive another day.”

Val nodded. “That’s what we figured. Lucian had them send word this morning that you wouldn’t make brunch because you were sick. The temple then sent some guy here to check on you, I guess to make sure you weren’t faking. But we can tell him you’re out of commission until further notice.”

“Wait,” called Justin, seeing her back out. “Did you get his name? The guy they sent?”

“Hansen, I think.”

Justin went still, and Mae could practically see the wheels of thought spinning behind his eyes. “Tell him I’ll talk to him here in—I don’t know, fifteen minutes. Give me a chance to clean up first.”

He moved to the edge of the bed and winced when he tried to stand. Mae quickly intercepted him and slid her arm around him for support. “Like hell. You need to rest.”

“I need to talk to Hansen,” Justin insisted. “Tell him, Val. Mae’ll get me showered.”

Val slinked away, muttering something about how some people got all the good jobs. Mae helped Justin to the door but hesitated before leaving. “Are you sure about this? You’re really in bad shape. What caused this?”

“Magic I wasn’t prepared for,” he said. “This is the physical toll for being part of such power when I wasn’t trained enough. But we found out what we needed.”

Mae lowered her voice. “You said something else when you got back . . . about the god’s touch. What was that all about?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. “Something else I wasn’t prepared for. Something glorious.”

That was all he’d say, and she guided him out to one of the guesthouse’s bathrooms. He managed to make it in on his own, and she sat outside as he showered, listening for the sound of falling. He managed to avoid disaster but still looked exhausted when he emerged. Even dressed later in clean clothes, it was obvious to anyone that he’d been sick. Once he was propped up comfortably on the bed, though, Mae began hunting for her hairpins. She didn’t have to be Cloistered for Hansen like she did Jasper, but she still needed to be Arcadian proper.

“Don’t,” said Justin, seeing her start to pull her hair up. “Stay like you are. Just brush it down.”

“Are you crazy?” she asked. “You know how these people are.”

”Yes,” said Justin. “Yes, I do.”

That was all he’d say until Hansen was shown in. The Arcadian did a double take when he saw Mae, but it seemed to be more out of surprise than uncontrollable lust. He accepted the chair offered to him near Justin’s bed and paid little attention to her after that as she sat near the door.

“Dr. March,” said Hansen awkwardly. “You’ve been ill.”

“I’m on the mend,” said Justin. “But I hope your master will understand why I can’t make it today.”

“Of course, of course,” said Hansen. “I’ll let him know, and perhaps you can reschedule if you recover before your trip ends. Let us know if there’s anything we can do. I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

Justin smiled and shook his head. “There’s nothing anyone can do—well, except my god. This is his doing, the price I gladly pay for wielding his power.”

Mae might have thought she’d misheard, but Hansen’s startled look told her otherwise. “I’m sorry, did you say your god?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Justin, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“B-but Gemmans have no gods,” stammered Hansen. “You persecute those who do.”

“Some of us have gods, gods capable of great things. Gods who truly make their followers earn power and reward those who serve faithfully.” Justin paused and gave Hansen a long, scrutinizing look. “You’re a faithful man. If you served my god, you would’ve married Elaina long ago.”

Hansen froze. “How do you know about her?”

Justin spread his hands. “Because my god’s power is great, and he’s given me knowledge about many things. I know that you do much of the temple’s work but that the Grand Disciple takes all the credit and rewards—other things, not just Elaina. I know you hate him for it.”

Mae didn’t know any of the context, but she could see that Justin had struck a nerve. Hansen shook his head, almost frantically. “No. I serve him faithfully. I gladly share what I have. He is a great man who deserves much—”

“Like the woman you love?” asked Justin knowingly. “How can you say that? If you won’t admit to your own feelings, think about hers. Does she enjoy it? How does she feel each time he makes you bring her to his bed? Does she like getting his ‘blessing?’” Hansen stood up, face flushed. “I’m leaving—”

“—to do what? Crawl back to him and tattle on me because I know that he’s sleeping with your concubine? So that he’ll reward you with another shit errand that you’ll get nothing for?” Justin pointed at the chair, and despite his pale face and signs of sickness, there was an authority in him that Mae was completely unprepared for. “Now sit down and shut up. I’m going to help you change your life.” Hansen sat.

“My god also knows about your plan to take down the RUNA’s media stream,” continued Justin.

Hansen’s jaw nearly hit the ground. “There’s no way you can know that!”

“Haven’t you been paying attention? My god can do anything. You think Nehitimar’s the only player in town? You’re wrong. Mine sees everything and can do things yours can only dream of. And this media stream plan? It’s a dream. No self-taught hacker can take it out. The Grand Disciple’s setting you up for failure.”

“They aren’t self-taught,” said Hansen, regaining a little composure. “They were trained by a programmer who defected from your country a few years ago. He swears he still knows the protocols and says that if the stream is attacked from at least three different points, it can be temporarily disabled.”

Justin said nothing but simply gave the other man a hard stare. Despite that, Mae had a feeling Justin was as surprised as she was. He’d said not even an EA programmer could crack Gemman networks . . . but a defector trained in them? It was possible, possible enough to give the theory a little more consideration. And Mae knew enough to know that the media stream was backed up and run out of several points throughout the country, exactly for the purpose of avoiding crashes. Simultaneous knock-outs could have an effect, but she didn’t know enough of the technicalities to say for sure. Justin probably didn’t either, but he was doing a good job of acting as all-knowing as the god he claimed he served.

“It won’t work,” he told Hansen. “You and the others will fail. And you’ll be caught and trapped in our country. And the Grand Disciple and your president will disavow all knowledge of your plan, claiming you worked alone. And then they’ll leave you to rot in a Gemman prison. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure Elaina will be well-taken care of.”

“What do you want?” asked Hansen, through gritted teeth.

“It’s what you want, not me.” Justin pointed at Mae. “Look at her.” Hansen, seeming reluctant to do so, turned and looked.

“She’s not my concubine. She’s not my wife. I have no legal claim to her, no force that keeps her by my side, but she chooses to stay with me anyway. Would Elaina do that for you, if no laws bound her to you?”

“Yes,” said Hansen instantly. “She loves me.”

“Can you imagine that?” Justin lost some of the command in his voice and was now going into wheeling-and-dealing mode. “Having your beautiful woman free and uncovered, for all to see, with everyone knowing that she’s with who she chooses—you—and that no one else, no matter how much they want her or lust for her, can lay a finger on her.” He focused on Mae. “Tell Hansen what you studied in school.”

She wasn’t expecting the question and presumed he wasn’t talking about her military training. “Music,” she said.

Hansen, however, was one step behind. “You went to school?”

“All our women do,” said Justin. “They can learn what they want, take on what professions they want, and be with the men they want. We don’t cover them up either. We let them show off their beauty. And we don’t let men who are full of themselves crush others who’ve done the work. A man who serves gets his rewards. They aren’t snatched up by others.”

That was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, Mae thought. There were certainly power inequalities in the RUNA, but compared to Arcadia? Yes, her homeland was every bit the paradise Justin was describing.

“And your god allows all these things,” said Hansen wonderingly. “Well,” corrected Justin, “our country does. But . . .” He studied the other man carefully, and Mae could guess Justin’s thoughts almost as if he was explaining them out loud to her. Hansen might be dissatisfied with what his god had given him, but he’d been raised in a world with gods, and that was what he understood. “My god makes it possible. It’s the kind of world his followers live in. He could make it possible for you. And Elaina.”

Hansen turned away from Mae and looked back at Justin. “How?”

“By defecting.” Justin leaned forward. “We let the Grand Disciple go forward with this plan, send your party over. You keep us informed about their actions and let us know when they plan to make their move. We’ll stop them and catch them, and you’ll stay in the RUNA.”

“Without Elaina,” said Hansen flatly. “I’ll be there. She’ll be here. None of it means anything without her.”

That was obviously an obstacle for Justin, but he waved it off. “I’ll make sure she’s there.”

Hansen looked dubious, and Mae couldn’t blame him. “How?”

”Haven’t you been listening?” exclaimed Justin. “My god can do these things. He can heal this.” Justin gestured to his body. “Ask the Grand Disciple to reschedule our meeting for dinnertime. I’ll make a full recovery, you’ll see. My god will make sure I can do his work.”

“A full recovery?” echoed Hansen.

“Yes,” said Justin firmly. “Make it happen. And I’ll get Elaina to the RUNA. The hackers are pre-determined . . . but the others, the missionaries posing as university lecturers or whatever. You’re in charge of selecting them, yes?”

Hansen nodded.

“Are there others like you? Others abused by the Grand Disciple that Nehitimar has forsaken?”

The Arcadian man didn’t answer, but once more, his expression gave him away.

Justin looked pleased. “If you can control those who’ll go with you, make it happen. Bring them. My god will offer them a new life as well if they help us catch the programmers.”

“You have to get Elaina,” insisted Hansen. He looked Justin over. “And actually make it to dinner tonight.”

“I’ll make it,” said Justin. “You’ll see. You’ll see what it’s like to actually have a god who delivers.” With what seemed to be great effort, he stood up and held out his hand. After a few moments, Hansen shook it.

“I’ll talk to his piousness,” he told Justin. “We’ll see you tonight.” Hansen started to leave, but Justin suddenly called him back.

“Wait—do you know anything about a staff the Grand Disciple has? One with an eagle on it?”

“Of course,” said Hansen. “It’s believed to be a sign of

Nehitimar’s favor that he sent it to this Grand Disciple.”

Justin frowned. “What do you mean ‘this’ one?”

“His predecessor didn’t have it . . . his predecessor also didn’t have nearly the power. I mean, Nehitimar’s worship has been strong in Arcadia almost since the country’s founding. It was a rallying point after the Decline. But when this Grand Disciple took over, there was something different . . . a different feel to him that caused people to flock to him in a way never felt before. I feel it sometimes, especially when he’s carrying the staff. It’s this overwhelming feeling of the god’s glory and power. It makes it very difficult to oppose him.”

“Is that why things happened like they did with Elaina?” asked Justin gently.

This caused Hansen to grimace. “No. When he wields the staff, the Grand Disciple is glorious and formidable. But even without it, he’s still a hard man to oppose.”

“I didn’t see the staff in his temple apartments. Where does he keep it?”

“Probably at his retreat on Holy Lake.” Seeing Justin’s puzzled look, Hansen explained, “It’s north of the city. Very secluded and well- guarded.”

“I would imagine so,” Justin murmured. “Thank you.”

Once Hansen was gone, Justin sprawled backwards on to the bed and tossed an arm over his eyes. “What on earth have you done?” Mae asked him, not understanding half of what had just transpired.

“That,” he groaned, “is an excellent question.”

“How much of that was true?” She came to sit beside him, leaning over so that when he uncovered his face, he was forced to meet her in the eyes. “I’ve seen you charm and fool people . . . that was all an act, right? You don’t have a god.”

“Depends on how you look at it,” he said, not sounding happy in the least. “I mean, last night, I did have an out of body experience where I merged with an otherworldly raven that serves a god who wants to claim me.”

“Yes . . . but you don’t serve that god.” She studied him more closely when he didn’t comment. “Do you?”

His response came hesitantly. “No. But I’m more involved with him than I’ve led you to believe—though not by my choice.”

Mae nearly brought up his earlier usage of “glorious” when describing the touch of this god but then decided they had bigger concerns for now. “Can you do all those things? Get that woman he wants into Arcadia? Get yourself out of bed? No offense, but you still look like crap.”

“Stop with the flattery.”

She gave him a small shove. “I’m serious! You’re risking a lot on something you don’t know you can make happen—and this is a big deal. Trying to take out the media stream’s an act of terrorism when our own people talk about it. From these lunatics, it’s a declaration of war. Our entire infrastructure’s tied into the stream. The country would stop running. Chaos would break out.”

“Which is why we can’t risk tipping our hands yet,” said Justin. “We need to let them think they might get away with it. We need the control, so we can find out what they know. If they find out we’re on to them, this whole conspiracy will blow away in the wind.”

“One of them already knows you’re on to him,” Mae pointed out. Justin tugged the covers over his body and rolled away. “Which is exactly why I’m going to reel him in. And to do that, I need to sleep some more. After that, food. See if Lucian’ll lend me his makeup. They wouldn’t let you guys bring it in, but I know he must have some for his photo-ops. It’ll have to do to hide any remaining dark circles, and Exerzol’ll do the rest to make me look lively.”

She groaned. “You’re not going to do yourself any favors if you get sick from taking too much of that.”

“I can be sick as much as I want tomorrow. I’ve just got to show the power of my god tonight.”

Mae moved toward the door and paused. “Can you at least tell me what that part about the staff was?”

Justin had started to close his eyes but opened them again. “Possibly a weapon, from what the ravens are telling me.”

“Like my knife?”

“Much more powerful. They claim it’s a threat to us and our country, but I don’t know how we can get a hold of it. Even if we knew where Holy Lake was—and I’m sure that wasn’t its name pre- Decline—getting there would be nearly impossible.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “We’ll have to be content with pulling off one heroic act in our country’s defense and let that one go.”

Mae left him after that, feeling troubled at another potential threat waiting for them but concurring that there was little to be done when they had so many other issues to deal with. The other praetorian women had been invited out on a sightseeing expedition with the Gemman men, one she would’ve been allowed to go on as well, save that she didn’t want to leave Justin. He woke up later in the afternoon and actually did look better, though he insisted on another shower. He made it to the bathroom unassisted, which was promising, and she went out to the main house to find him some food.

It required putting on the Cloistered getup, which was a pain in theory, but proved useful when she passed some of Carl’s sons on the way to the kitchen. They lingered in the hallway, barely giving her a second glance. Mae realized they’d mistaken her for Hannah. Even Harriet did when Mae found the older woman tidying up by the kitchen stove, and it wasn’t until Mae asked for a plate for Justin that Harriet realized who she was talking to. Mae stayed out of the way as the plate was made up, standing close enough to overhear the men—and an unexpected conversation.

“You better get Father to put a hold on one of Pittsfield’s girls. He’s moving his salon any day now.” It was one of the younger sons, whose name Mae couldn’t remember.

“Since when?” demanded Jasper.

“There was a break-in the other night at his place,” explained the first speaker. “He doesn’t think it’s safe there. Wants to find a more secure location until the girls are of age.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” said Jasper. “Why would I want one? None of them are old enough.”

“He’s got the best-looking girls in the city,” said a voice Mae recognized as Carl’s oldest son, Walter. “Of course, they’re illegals, but that won’t matter once he sells them—if he can sell them. No wonder he’s hightailing it out. If he lost them before they’re sold, he’s out a lot of money. He’s probably got at least three more years until they’re ready.”

Jasper’s voice was petulant. “I don’t want to wait three years, no matter how good-looking. I want a woman now.”

Mae didn’t pay attention to the rest and barely noticed when Harriet handed her the plate. The Cloistered costume allowed Mae to walk unbothered past the brothers again, and her mind spun out of control as she hurried back to the guesthouse. There was no way they could be talking about any other salon but the one she’d broken into.

She’d suspected her visit wouldn’t go unnoticed, but it had never occurred to her the owners would take off as a result. She wanted to scream in frustration. Fate had sent her to a location right by her goal, and she was about to lose it through her own actions. Any day now. What did that mean? When was the salon moving? What could she do in so short a time?

She longed to speak to Justin about it, but he was too preoccupied with his upcoming task at the temple. He chatted a little about it as he ate the food, and it was a sign of his focus that he didn’t notice how troubled she was.

“If this god really is on my side,” he remarked, bright and alert from his first Exerzol dose, “I’ll come back to you tonight with good news.”

Mae jerked herself out of her troubled thoughts. “What do you mean come back to me? I’ll be with you.”

“No need this time,” he assured her. “As long as the Grand Disciple wants to bargain with me about this missionary visit, I’m in no danger. And I don’t really want to watch him leer over you the whole time either.”

“I can handle it,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, well, I can’t.” Justin set his plate down. “Besides, if Hansen sells me out after all, I don’t want you anywhere near where those freaks might get a hold of you.”

“If he sells you out, then you’ll need me more than ever!” she exclaimed.

“No. You stay here. I’ll be fine.” He looked her over. “I’m serious. You and your implant can settle down.”

Her implant had spun up, raising all her endorphins, though it had been triggered long before this by the news of the salon. “How do you know my implant’s up?” she asked.

Justin gave her a wry smile. “Because you always have that same tension and predatory look when the implant inspires you to proposition me. You’ll have to find some other outlet tonight, though. I’ve got to keep my strength up.”

Mae felt blood rush to her cheeks, but he’d already turned away from her and was trying to make sense of the makeup kit they’d pilfered from Lucian’s room. As Justin experimented with under eye concealers, she simply sat around dumbfounded, replaying his last words. Was that why he thought she’d tried to take him to bed after the Arcadians burst into the room?

Was it the reason?

She could admit that her libido did ramp up when the implant was activated, and it certainly had been after escaping from Jasper. But as she thought back to the details of that night, it hadn’t just been the surge of chemicals that had drawn her to Justin. It had been . . . him. And not just the feel of his body either—though that hadn’t been without its effects. There’d been something powerful in the way he’d stood up for her. Not that she was looking for rescue. Mae didn’t expect that from anyone. It was more about the trust between them than the actual act of helping her. He’d had no idea what was going on, yet he’d unquestioningly stood by her. He always did. In Mae’s life, trust was a tenuous thing. She trusted her fellow praetorians because they’d been trained to have each other’s backs, and she knew she could count on them. Mae realized she placed just as much faith in Justin as she did Val or Dag or any of the Scarlets . . . without any of the same concrete reasons. There was something intangible that bound her to Justin, something that burned with both loyalty and a deeper attraction that she didn’t know how to articulate.

In fact, she didn’t know how to articulate any of this. And as she continued struggling to come to terms with her own tangled emotions, she felt the moment to act or say anything more about them slipping away. Justin grew caught up in his task, and before long, the other Gemmans returned home and wanted updates. Lucian was understandably surprised to hear Justin now saying he wanted to encourage an Arcadian cultural delegation without elaborating why. Mae lost any other chances to speak alone with Justin until the others left for dinner, just as word came that a temple car had arrived for Justin’s pick-up.

“Are you sure I can’t come with you?” she pushed, standing alone with him in their guest house’s common room.

“I’ll be fine. This is all on me, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re safely back here under boring house arrest.” He certainly looked capable of making anything happen. He’d made a remarkable recovery and was back to the same outgoing, dashing mode that Mae knew so well. “And when I get back, we’ll figure out this business with your niece.”

“I thought you’d forgotten,” she said, legitimately surprised. It had never left her mind—especially in light of recent developments—but she’d thought it had slipped his.

“I don’t forget anything,” he teased. “Especially something like that. Wait for me, and we’ll talk.”

A surge of emotion swelled within her chest, muddled by her earlier fears that he thought she only came to him when she was amped up on endorphins. Of course, he’d had his own share of bad behaviors in their history of fumbling romantic attempts, ones she’d heard no good excuses for. But as she allowed herself to accept that he’d misunderstood her recently, she also came to terms with the idea that she’d maybe misunderstood him. The how or why—especially in light of some of the things he’d said to her—was still a mystery, but enough weirdness surrounded them these days that she understood that there were very possibly factors at work that she had no knowledge of.

Yet again, expressing all of these things was beyond her. Words were Justin’s gift, not hers. And so, bereft of any other immediate options, Mae leaned forward and kissed him—a long, lingering kiss that didn’t say “I want to take you to bed” but that hopefully conveyed some of the depth what she was feeling inside. It was the best she could do. Whether she was successful or not, she couldn’t say, though he certainly looked surprised when shouts from outside about the waiting car forced them to part. He looked as tongue-tied as she felt and only managed to say, “Wait for me,” before slipping away.

Mae returned to his room and tried to find some distraction that wouldn’t leave her obsessing over him or the risks he might be facing. The sight of the amber knife reminded her of her own problems and the clock ticking on the salon. Justin had said he’d help her tonight . . . but that was assuming he got back in a timely manner to do anything. Picking up the dagger, running her fingers over the amber inlay, she knew instantly what she wanted to do, no matter his warnings about the supernatural. The knife had led her to her niece, who was about to be taken away again. Justin had said he’d help her tonight, but what harm was there in being prepared with more information? The more they knew, the more they’d be able to act. The only risk she faced was if she didn’t come out of the knife’s trance before the other Gemmans returned from dinner. A check of the clock in the main sitting room told her she had at least two hours, if not more. Resolved, she summoned a prayer to the unknown goddess and sliced her palm with the blade.

The expected vision came, showing unexpected things. Mae saw what was happening with the salon and what she had to do. When the vision ended, and she returned to her senses in the bedroom, she discovered two things. One was that only an hour had passed. The other was that she had a mark left on her skin from where she’d cut it. Before, the wound had always healed by the time the vision ended. It still didn’t look fresh now by any means—more like it had happened a couple of days ago—but she was startled to see any residual mark at all. A voice sounded in her head: You can’t keep asking for much without giving a little.

Mae had no time to ponder that, though. Not after what she’d seen. Time was more critical than she’d realized. Wait for me, Justin had said.

But as Mae began stripping off her Arcadian dress, the unfortunate reality hit her. “I can’t,” she said aloud. “I can’t.”