The Immortal Crown

CHAPTER 8

A Warm Welcome

Mae didn’t retrieve the amber knife until the morning of their flight to Arcadia. She’d gone back and forth on whether she wanted it back at all. In the ensuing week, she’d replayed every detail of the vision she’d had in the living room, trying to make sense of it. She couldn’t write it off as a dream because praetorians didn’t sleep. They could, apparently, be overpowered by divine forces and made to “see” things they didn’t want to. And no matter how much Mae wished that wasn’t true, there was no denying it had happened . . . and that she had let that cryptic vision drive her into coercing Justin into a trip he hadn’t wanted.

His agreeing to it was almost as unbelievable as the vision itself. She’d seen his face and knew him well enough to recognize that he truly hadn’t wanted any part of the diplomatic mission. Whether that was because of Lucian or Arcadia or some other factor, she couldn’t say. All she knew was that he’d agreed—for her—and that made her feel a mix of guilt . . . and unwelcome affection. Whenever she tried to bring up the favor, even to express small thanks, he gruffly made it clear that it wasn’t anything he wanted to discuss further.

And it was that frustration—that she couldn’t properly repay him or even convey her gratitude—that drove Mae to bring the dagger to Arcadia. Part of her wanted to believe she needed no more divine assistance. She had the information she’d received from Emil and the vision . . . would that be enough? Mae couldn’t say for sure, and if it was only herself she was inconveniencing, maybe she’d take the risk. But after forcing Justin to so radically alter his plans, she felt obligated to do everything she could to follow through on the sketchy leads to her niece—even if he knew nothing about it.

“Did you just get that from the basket?”

Mae turned in surprise from where she’d just replaced the knife’s basket back on its shelf. Justin had just entered the living room, coffee cup in hand. It was early, and the rest of the family was still waking up, but the two of them were dressed and ready to rendezvous with Lucian’s party soon.

She slipped the blade back to its usual place in her boot. “I took it out overnight and wanted it somewhere Quentin wouldn’t find it,” she lied. “Do you think they’ll let me bring it into Arcadia?”

“I’d say so. They’re letting the uniformed military bring in guns— with restrictions. Probably figure a sweet, innocent woman like you couldn’t possibly cause any damage with a knife.”

Mae grinned at that and briefly toyed with trying to thank him again for his part in their upcoming trip. After a moment, she decided against it. He was in as good a mood as he was going to get, and there was no point in spoiling that. Besides, as the rest of the family trickled into the kitchen, there was no time for the two of them anymore. After a week of battling her brother, Cynthia had finally resigned herself to his going.

“Make sure you come back this time,” she grumbled, resting her head on his chest when they hugged goodbye. “No more four-year sabbaticals.”

“Stop being melodramatic,” he told her. “Nothing’s going to happen. Besides, I’m sure Lucian can talk us out of any trouble. And if anything does happen, you won’t have to worry about finances.”

Cynthia groaned. “I knew it. I knew you were preparing for the worst.”

Mae, feeling as though she were intruding, turned from them and pretended to be interested in checking security features on the house’s windows. Little did Cynthia know that Justin had made arrangements for her and Quentin a while ago. When he’d first returned from Panama, he hadn’t known if he’d be exiled again and had made sure his assets would be accessible to her in the event of a temporary or permanent disappearance. He’d made further arrangements once he’d accepted the responsibilities of his new job and its frequent provincial travel. Cynthia really had no idea that Arcadia wasn’t the first dangerous place he’d frequented these last few months.

Hearing Tessa’s voice, Mae dared a glance back and saw the girl hugging Justin for her own goodbye. How is he like that? Mae wondered, watching him wrap up Tessa in his arms. So selfish and pleasure-driven most of the time, yet completely devoted to them. Because no matter how much he tried to hide it, she knew he was feeling emotional at the goodbyes as well. And although Mae didn’t know the exact details, she was willing to bet anything that Justin had set aside some pretty generous resources for Tessa too, in the event something happened to him.

“Everyone’s so grim for an event that’s supposed to usher in an era of peace between us and Arcadia,” Mae heard Rufus say.

She smiled as she found him standing behind her. He had an uncanny, stealthy way of moving that rivaled a praetorian. In the past week as the family’s regular bodyguard, she’d grown to like him more and more and was pleased with her decision.

“Hopefully it will,” she told Rufus. “I’m not sure I’d give the average Gemman good odds wandering around alone in Arcadia, but our group? No one on any side wants this to go badly. So long as we survive their customs, nothing’s going to happen to us. And I’m hoping that if it’s widely known that Justin’s out of the country, no one will come after these guys while we’re gone. No point in punishing the servitor if he’s not around to see it.”

Rufus nodded. “True, but I don’t plan on changing anything. I’ll keep up with the usual procedures and coordinate with your praetorian friend and his people.”

Something in the way he said “praetorian friend” amused her. “You aren’t a fan of Dag?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a fine soldier. I just don’t really bond with that showy, alpha male type. As long as he does his job and keeps us supplied with backup, I’ve got no problem with him.”

Mae laughed. “I don’t know, Rufus. There’s something about you that makes me think you might have been one of those showy alpha male types back in the day. Maybe you’re feeling competition from your youth.”

“Hmphf,” said Rufus, hiding a smile of his own. “That guy’s no competition at all. And who says I’m out of my youth?”

Despite his joking, he was right about one thing: the mood was certainly somber when the hired car came to pick up Justin and Mae. Both Cynthia and Tessa had tears in their eyes, and Mae couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for her role in the emotional farewell. It’s no more dangerous than anything else we do, she reminded herself. Probably less so. It’s just that none of them know what we do regularly. They’d probably cry every time if they knew we were facing supernatural hordes of beetles and other monstrosities.

The car took her and Justin to the senate, where they were led in through a back entrance. Here, they went separate ways. Because the Arcadian government could access the RUNA’s media on occasion, the female praetorians weren’t being publicized on the trip, lest the Gemman press pull up the military’s bios and report on their true identities.

“Good luck,” Mae told Justin. He and the other men were due at another press conference before going to the airport.

“Nothing to it,” he said. “I’m sure Lucian’ll do all the talking anyway.”

One aide led him away to a press room, while another took Mae to a private suite used by senators for breaks between sessions. There, she found the other praetorian women from their initial meeting, plus an assistant from Arcadian expert Atticus Marley’s office. The woman introduced herself as Olivia and led Mae to a curtained-off area with a hanging dress.

“You’re not expected to wear Arcadian fashion, thankfully,” Olivia explained. “But you will need to conform to all of their rules. We got you the least horrendous clothes we could find.”

But she didn’t really sound that convinced, and Mae could understand why. The dress, though cut to Mae’s measurements, didn’t offer much in the way of shape. It was made of a light, tan material that touched her feet. The neckline went as high as the top of her collarbone, and the sleeves were elbow length.

Olivia offered her a jacket and hat in the same color. “You don’t have to put these on until you leave the plane. And then make sure you aren’t ever seen in public without them. Short sleeves and uncovered hair are big taboos.”

“It’s mid-summer,” said Mae, holding up the jacket. It had long sleeves and looked like it would land just past her hip.

“We got the lightest, most ‘modest’ material we could,” said Olivia sympathetically. “If it helps, you probably won’t be outside very often. But you should leave the hat on even when you’re inside, and always keep your hair pulled up.”

“Right,” said Mae, remembering Atticus’s warnings. “My problematic blond hair. I don’t get it. Arcadia’s more advanced than other provinces, and all of them have hair dye. They should be able to fake recessive genes just like our plebeians do.”

“It’s not about the ability. It’s about custom.” Olivia settled the hat—a bell-shaped cloche that actually would’ve been pretty stylish in autumn—on Mae’s head to test the fit. “No hair dye. No makeup. There are even color restrictions. Something to do with that god of theirs and his rules on vanity. Your friend Dr. March could probably explain it better.”

“In fact,” a new voice said. “He’s on the stream right now.” Mae turned in amazement. “Val?”

Her friend, wearing a dress of similar cut but in dark brown, grinned at her. “Surprise.”

Olivia gave a nod of dismissal, and Mae hurried over to Val for a quick hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I got assigned to this a couple of days ago.” Val’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “The request came specifically from Senator Darling’s office, so I figured you were behind it.”

Mae shook her head wonderingly. “I had nothing to do with it. Lucian must’ve done it on his own.” For me, she realized. They’d needed a fifth female praetorian, and it wouldn’t have been that hard for Lucian to ask a few questions and find out who Mae was particularly close to. Of course, as much as Mae loved her friend’s company, she almost would’ve preferred Val was safely on bodyguard duty for the March family and not tied into this strange vision-driven mission that Mae had let herself get involved in.

“There you go again with his first name. I think it broke Dag’s heart that we get to go off adventuring without him, but hell, I’ll take undercover work in some backwoods country any day over monument duty. I thought we would’ve been pulled by now, but for all I know, the Scarlets’ll be in the capital through the election.” Val linked her arm through Mae’s and tugged her away. “Come on, let’s go watch the guys be manly and heroic for the cameras.”

They found the other praetorians watching the screen in the lounge part of the suite, where press coverage of the delegation’s sendoff was already in full swing. As Justin had predicted, most questions went to Lucian, many of them being variations of what she’d heard all week about the dangers of going into enemy territory. Lucian likewise reiterated what he’d said before about duty and how he didn’t care if it cost him in the election, so long as he aided his country. Whenever a question occasionally got tossed Justin’s way, he answered with equal finesse.

Val chuckled. “He could be a politician himself.”

“They’ve all been coached,” said Mae. “Everyone’s on best diplomatic behavior, both for our people and the Arcadians.”

“No one had to coach him on that,” scoffed Val. “That’s the kind of stuff he’s born with.”

Mae’s eyes lingered on Justin a few moments more until the camera cut away. She had to agree with Val’s assessment.

Once the praetorians were outfitted and given their final instructions, they were taken out to Vancouver’s military base to rendezvous with the rest of the party, who were still with the press and would be filmed and photographed leaving the senate in their cars as part of the media spectacular surrounding the trip. Mae hadn’t been out at the base in some time since working with Justin, and as their car cleared the security check points, it felt strange that her return would be in this drab dress and not the black uniform she’d missed.

The men joined them about an hour later, and when they were all aboard the jet flying them to the Arcadian border, the atmosphere took on an almost festive attitude. The press conference had been a dazzling success, and Lucian’s enthusiasm over their impending trip was infectious. If the others hadn’t been voters of his before, they were now, Mae thought. Even stern-faced George Yi looked caught up in Lucian’s visions of a brighter RUNA and accepted a glass of champagne as everyone settled in for the long flight.

“Cheer up,” said Justin, coming to sit beside Mae. She was scanning through images and charts of Arcadian data on her ego. He handed her a glass of champagne that she took but didn’t drink. “We’re embarking into the great unknown.”

Her own preoccupation with what she’d find in Arcadia was interfering with her ability to fully give into the party vibe. “Not that unknown. Our spies and satellites have made sure of that.”

“See, now that’s the spirit I’m looking for.” Justin settled back into his seat, and Mae suspected there may have been champagne in his car ride from the senate as well. “You should drink that, you know. Won’t be much on the other side. They don’t like their women to drink.”

She sipped the champagne, mostly out of habit. “They don’t like their women to do a lot of things, it seems. Wearing too much color being among them. How does that happen? Arcadia and the RUNA have the same roots. How could we have gone in such wildly different directions?”

Justin knocked back the rest of his drink. This was the kind of philosophical question he lived for. “Well, there were already a lot of regional differences in the former United States before the Decline. This extreme? No, certainly not. It’s a common misunderstanding that people think pre-Arcadia was already way off the mainstream. That was true for some, but not all. Some of the greatest works of American music and literature came out of this region. There was a lot of thinking, a lot of culture.” He paused to eye his empty glass, and Mae helpfully poured her champagne into it. Giving her a mock toast, he continued, “But per what usually happens in catastrophic situations, people panic and open the door for the loudest voices to seize control. And once they get power in a world where everything’s been destabilized, they can then rebuild that world in their own image.”

“Is that what usually happens?” Mae asked skeptically. “The loudest voices seize control? Not the reasonable ones?”

“Loudest,” affirmed Justin. “At least in times of disaster. You see, you’re not aware of it because you’re part of the military—which often is the loudest voice and, hopefully, the reasonable one. But back in the fallout from the Decline? The military was fragmented. Hell, half of it wasn’t even in the country. You and I are lucky that our ancestors listened to the loud voices that joined up with Asian countries against Mephistopheles.” He paused to rethink his words. “Well, perhaps ‘listened’ isn’t the right word. I’d say some of them were forced to hear.”

“Not many.”

“More than you’d think. Your pretty blond ancestors bought their way out, but plenty of people opposed to ‘optimal genetic reproduction’ didn’t have that luxury. It was an ugly time—uglier than most people realize. But look at us now.” He spread out his hands. “The height of civilization. The jewel of the world. Meanwhile, the Arcadians listened to voices that said they didn’t have to swap out their population and mix ethnicities . . . and they let a theocratic government take over and push a new religion that keeps its citizens ignorant and is afraid to let their women show their necks.” Mae flinched in surprise as he gently trailed his finger along her dress’s collar. “So, you tell me, did our ancestors make the right call?”

She shook her head and noticed Lucian watching them across the jet’s cabin. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know enough about the intricacies of the Decline. My guess is they made the best decision they could at the time with the information they had.”

“As do we all.” Justin dropped his hand and reached into his pocket. Moments later, he pressed something into Mae’s palm. “Here. Put this on before we land. Not now, not while Lucian’s watching us.”

“How do you know that?” she asked. “I mean, you’re right, but your back’s to him.”

“I can feel it. That, and it’s no coincidence he picked a seat with a clear line of sight on you. Why sit there if he’s not going to use it to its full advantage?”

Mae looked at what he’d given her. It was a small wooden rectangle attached to a cord that was about the right length to wear as a necklace. Etched on the wood was a symbol that looked like a cross between an N and and H.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Haglaz,” he told her. “The ravens told me I could put it on a silver or gold chain, but that would violate Arcadian vanity rules, so I went old school. You should keep it under your clothes, but if anyone does see it, hopefully it’s crude enough to be ignored.”

“You made it?”

“Yeah.” He sounded more amused than proud. “You had no idea I was so crafty, did you?”

A few moments later, the full implications hit her. “Wait . . . is this something magical? Or supernatural?” She started to hand it back, and he pushed her hand away.

“It’ll obscure you as one of the elect. Unless you want the Arcadian equivalent of a beetle mob coming after you.”

She still couldn’t help but regard the necklace with suspicion— though she didn’t give it back. “I didn’t know you were involved with stuff like this.”

“Not happily,” he assured her. “But I keep my promises and look out for my own.”

Mae looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you claiming me as your own?”

He winked and stood up. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But humor me and keep it on for this trip. Actually, wear it when we’re back too. Now.” He glanced around. “Where’s the rest of the cham—”

He froze as his gaze fell on Mae’s ego. “What’s that?”

“Just refreshing myself on mission details.” The image currently shown was one of the high priest of the Arcadian religion. His title was the Grand Disciple, and he wore robes and a headdress that were almost comically heavy with jewels. In one hand he clutched a golden cup, and in the other, he held a short golden staff with an eagle on top. “I figured you’d know who this is,” she added.

“Of course I do.” Justin stared for several more moments. “Does that particular document say anything about the staff he’s holding?”

“Not specifically. It just says this is the Grand Disciple’s most formal regalia, worn for important services and holidays.”

With a sigh, Justin dragged his eyes away and stood up. “Wonderful,” he muttered. “I guess Geraki didn’t imagine it.”

He wandered off, leaving Mae puzzled as she clutched the necklace he’d given her. Putting it on seemed like an active admission of getting personally involved with the supernatural. But, as Justin had aptly pointed out, did she really want to advertise that she was one of the elect? When she’d asked him how Mama Orane hadn’t initially known he was an elect, he’d simply said that he “had ways to keep that under wraps.” Presumably, this was what he’d meant, and it had worked. Resolved, Mae waited until no one was watching and then slipped the necklace over her head and tucked the charm under her dress.

It wasn’t lost on her just how significant it was that Justin had actually made the charm himself. He’d told her the story of how, a long time ago, he’d been approached by a god who’d saved Justin’s life in the hopes of procuring his services and devotion. When Justin had related the tale, he’d made it sound as though he’d dodged any need to pay back the god . . . and yet, somewhere in the last few months, Mae had gotten the impression that something had changed. Justin wouldn’t talk about it when pressed, but this charm was a strong indication that—willingly or not—Justin was more involved with this god than he’d initially said. Mae could hardly fault him for keeping secrets, however, when she was sitting on her own knife-induced vision of the red velvet flag.

An hour before their landing, someone wisely put the champagne away, and the atmosphere grew more subdued. The Arcadians wouldn’t actually allow the plane to fly into their airspace, so Mae’s party was landing at a base on the Gemman side of the border. They would cross by land (and water, since there was a river along the border) and then be taken to the Arcadian capital, Divinia. Mae felt herself growing tenser as they neared their destination, and a glance at her fellow praetorians told her that they too were on edge as their implants warmed to the potential danger.

They received an enthusiastic welcome at the Gemman base, and Lucian paused for smiles and a brief talk with the soldiers there. After all, they were all potential voters who could influence their home senators to vote for him in the consular election. The soldiers seemed thrilled at the attention he gave them, but Mae was pleased to see them snap into business mode when it came time to escort her party to the border. Even with the water barrier, this was a dangerous post, and these soldiers had undoubtedly learned caution.

They took a military craft across the river, where a complementary Arcadian base awaited them—complete with a contingent of green- coated soldiers openly holding guns. Not counting the undercover women or base escort, Mae’s party had fifteen soldiers, most of which were praetorians wearing the regular gray and maroon military uniform. The Arcadian “welcoming party” had more than four times that.

“Senator Darling.” A large uniformed man stepped forward from the throng, once the Gemman party was on Arcadian soil. His jacket was bedecked with medals and marks of rank that identified him as a general. “Welcome to Arcadia.”

If Lucian felt any nervousness at the situation he was walking into, he didn’t let it show. “You must be General McGraw. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He strode forward confidently and extended his hand, which the general shook without hesitation. Unless Mae was mistaken, there was a collective sigh of relief from both sides. So far, so good.

“Well,” said McGraw, “the real pleasure won’t begin until you’re in Divinia. I’m here to dispense with some necessary evils, which I’m sure you can understand.”

“Absolutely,” said Lucian. “Let’s do what needs to be done.”

The “necessary evils” referred to a series of identity and security checks of every person and his or her luggage. The Arcadians had received advanced notice of the names of those coming in the delegation and first ascertained that everyone matched their dossiers. Mae’s picture and name were accurate, but she’d been given a fabricated bio to hide her true profession. According to the records the Arcadians had, she was a professional pianist. In Mae’s eyes, that was a generous estimate of her musical abilities, but she could understand that her people would fabricate a background with some connection to reality, and she had studied music in her tertiaries.

The Arcadians merely glossed over the bios, however, and put their main effort into searching the Gemman military who were staying in the country. Atticus had explained that the Gemman soldiers could bring arms that they’d be allowed to carry at certain times—which he’d read as “never.” And as Mae watched the Gemmans turn over their weapons, she could understand why they’d chosen to bring out-of-date models. No one wanted to give the Arcadians a tactical edge by letting them study advanced weaponry while it was in their “safekeeping.” It made Mae a little uneasy to know their party was unarmed, but that was to be expected. Even with their weapons, their soldiers were outnumbered. It was up to her and the other praetorians, who were weapons in and of themselves, to handle defense if needed.

Once the soldiers were cleared, the Arcadians did a more thorough check of the Gemman diplomats and “concubines,” scanning them with both metal detectors and physical pat-downs. Mae had a moment of fear that they’d pick up her implant on their scanners, but, as she’d been assured in the RUNA, the implant was buried too deeply in her arm and contained a small enough amount of metal to slip by. Her knife, however, was a different matter.

“What’s this?” demanded the Arcadian soldier who pulled it from her boot. The Arcadians spoke English with an accent that drew the vowels out more than the Gemman dialect did.

“Mine,” she said, momentarily stunned.

“Why would a woman need a knife like this?” he demanded. “Actually,” said Justin, moving to her side. “It’s mine. I gave it to her.”

The soldier turned his incredulous gaze on Justin. “Same question. Why would a woman need a knife like this? This is a weapon.”

Mae felt her heart clench, and the implant spun her up into flight- or-flight mode. They’re going to seize it, she thought in a panic. It’s my only guide to my niece, and they’re going to take it from me.

Justin, however, remained remarkably calm. Derisive, even. “Why? For protection. Don’t think I didn’t see. You enjoyed that pat- down a little too much. I don’t want anyone coming near my woman if I’m not around. We haven’t even been here an hour, and you’re already leering over our women.”

Mae’s gut instinct was to chafe against “my woman,” but a wiser part of herself warned, Just stay still and be quiet. He’s getting you out of this.

And apparently he was. Mae hadn’t thought much of the pat-down, but the sudden crimson in the soldier’s face lent credence to Justin’s accusation. McGraw, having overheard the exchange, strode forward and took the knife from his soldier. “Here.” The general handed the knife to Justin. “You keep it, not her. Your women have nothing to fear while under our hospitality.” There was something in the tone of his voice that made Mae think that last statement was more for the Arcadians under his command than the Gemmans.

“Thank you,” said Justin, slipping the knife into his coat as though he did it on a regular basis. When the attention was off them, Mae gave him a small nod of thanks that he returned in kind. The dagger was still accessible to her, at least.

When all the security checks were done to McGraw’s satisfaction, the soldiers from the base departed, and Mae’s party was truly on its own. She and the others were escorted onto a large, armored bus with narrow windows that reminded her of something used to transport prisoners. It had enough room for all of the Gemmans, as well as several armed Arcadian soldiers. McGraw came on board to see them off but wasn’t riding with them.

“It’s about three hours to Divinia,” he said. “These soldiers will make sure you arrive there safely for your welcoming festivities. It’s been a pleasure to meet you all, and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.” With a curt salute to his men, he departed.

“Really?” murmured Val, sitting with Lucian in the seat in front of Mae and Justin. “That wasn’t the welcome? Can you imagine the media spectacle this would’ve been if the situation had been reversed, and we were receiving them? There’d be champagne fountains and dancing girls.”

“I’m sure they have plenty in store for us,” said Lucian pleasantly, never losing that camera-ready smile. But as Mae studied his profile, she could see the lines of tension and knew that no matter his glib talk, he was well aware of the possible danger if this trip went badly. Keeping him as a hostage could be a powerful bargaining chip for the Arcadians, if they wanted to force something from the Gemmans. Mae wondered if that put the rest of them—who weren’t as important—in better or worse positions.

“That’s right,” said Justin, loudly enough for some nearby Arcadian soldiers to overhear. “Rest up on this ride. I’m sure the hospitality and wonders of Divinia will be overwhelming.”

“Divinia,” repeated Mae. “Was that always its name?”

“No,” said Justin, making himself comfortable in the stiff seat. “Before the Decline, it was called Birmingham.”