Richelle Mead - The Immortal Crown

The three praetorians soon seemed to forget about him as they threw themselves into making plans. They compared Dag and Val’s schedules to Justin’s family’s and began working out a system where there’d always be one person on duty in the house at night, and then individuals to escort various family members to their respective schools throughout the day. Mae even worked herself into the rotation, volunteering to come over tonight and do the all-night watch. Justin nearly protested that, seeing as she’d barely gotten back into town, but he thought it might break his family into this new system a little easier if they dealt with Mae before the others. As it was, Tessa would probably have a panic attack being under the same roof as Val or Dag.

“If I can get an ad up tonight, maybe I can do interviews tomorrow or the next day,” said Mae, letting Justin back into the conversation. “We’re good for that long, right?”

“Should be,” he said. “Nassau ran longer than they expected. We should have at least the next two off and then stay domestic for a while.” It was one nice side to their job, at least. When they went away for a long provincial trip, they could usually count on local assignments upon returning.

“Listen to you guys,” said Dag, eyes shining. “Tossing around Nassau like it’s no big deal. You’ve been to more provinces with March these last few months than I’ve been to in my whole military career. I wouldn’t mind dropping in on one of your trips if you ever need help.”

That’s it, Justin realized. That’s why they’re helping. They’re bored. Praetorians are proud to serve in their capital, but it’s a lot of show, and they’d rather be fighting. They’re hoping helping me will send a little more action their way.

They’re doing it for her too, Horatio said. She doesn’t always like you, but she does care about you and the others. Her friends can tell, and that carries a lot of weight with them.

And they want to defend my house from raging religious zealots, Justin insisted.

Well, yes, obviously.

Even though Val and Dag seemed excited about this new enterprise he’d brought them, Justin couldn’t shake the feeling of overstaying his welcome. He finished and paid for his drink—and theirs—and then made motions to leave. Mae quickly downed her own drink and stood up as if to follow.

“No, no, you can stay,” he said. “Enjoy your break.”

“I don’t need a break. Besides, I’m working the first house shift tonight. I have to go with you anyway.”

“I’m not going home.”

Mae’s disapproving look spoke legions, and he knew he could have easily kept her away if he made up some story about a liaison. As it was, the truth was nearly as effective.

“I’m going to see Lucian.”

“Really?” she asked, after several moments of scrutiny. “I need to ask a favor.”

“Lucian Darling? Our security’s not good enough?” asked Dag with a wounded look.

Justin gave him a small smile. “Different favor.” To Mae, he said, “You’re welcome to come, if you want.”

That unreadable mask of hers slipped into place. Mae’s relationship with Lucian Darling—Justin’s old friend and one of the country’s most powerful senators—was an enigmatic thing. He was infatuated with her. She neither seemed to like nor dislike him. A plebeian senator, even a liberal one, couldn’t be seen publicly dating a castal woman, so he’d contrived a number of events in the past for her to attend, like dinners and other fundraisers. She’d gone to a couple, always polite and always showing as much emotion as any good Nordic debutante would when out in society—meaning, no emotion at all.

“I’ll walk you to the subway,” she said. “Tell Lucian you’re coming, and he’ll have his car sent to his station for you. The timing should work out well.”

So. She didn’t want to go. That was telling—as was the familiar way in which she spoke about getting to his home.

Val leaned toward Justin. “You’re going to tell us all about how our Finn knows the good senator, right? I mean, we’ll have all sorts of time to kill when we’re protecting you and your loved ones out of the goodness of our hearts. Surely the least you can do in return is tell us what some people have been unfairly tightlipped about.”

Mae rolled her eyes. “Because there’s nothing to tell.”

Her friends looked skeptical, and Justin suspected he had more badgering in his future. For now, he was able to slip off relatively unbothered, after offering more sincere thanks to the praetorians. He was equally gracious to Mae as they walked out into the busy summer night toward the subway stop across the street, thanking her for her role in everything.

“I get that they’re doing it for you,” he added when they reached the stairs leading underground. “But I’m not sure why you’re doing it.”

“Because I like your family,” she said, confirming what the ravens had said. They reached the platform, and a monitor informed them that the gray line train—which led out to Lucian’s suburb—was seconds away. “And I know better than anyone else what kind of stuff is coming after you—and could come after them. You need extra help.”

The train pulled up and opened its doors, letting crowds of people move in and out. Justin paused before boarding to give Mae one last glance. “You think praetorians will be enough?”

She had that unreadable expression back on. “They’ll have to be.”

Justin had given Lucian plenty of notice that he was coming by that night. He’d also told Lucian he was bringing Mae.

“Really?” Lucian asked, upon realizing he’d been tricked. “You don’t think I would’ve let just you come over?”

Justin peered around the expansive living room that a bodyguard had just escorted him into. The house and upper class suburban neighborhood weren’t unlike his own, though there was a sterile, too- neat feel to everything. No surprise, he thought, since Lucian probably spent more time on the road these days than around the house.

“Hedging my bets,” Justin said. “I had no idea what kind of long day you might have had. You might not want any guests at all. But you’d still probably want her.”

“Probably.” Lucian, upon closer examination, actually did appear as though he might have had a long day. He was settled into the corner of a leather sofa, with his arm stretched along its back and his feet resting on a coffee table. The top buttons of his dress shirt were undone, its sleeves unrolled. If he’d had a tie at some point today, it’d been discarded. There was an easy smile on his face—it was hard to find Lucian without one—but it was underscored with fatigue. “Though believe it or not, there actually has been something I’ve wanted to see you about. So this works out happily for everyone. Make yourself a drink, and we’ll talk.” He held up an empty glass. “Make me one too.”

Justin took the glass over to a bar between the kitchen and living room. It too was beautifully laid out and well-stocked, straight from an entertaining magazine but not seeing much use. “Why don’t you give up on your unattainable Nordic obsession and find some well-bred plebeian wife to smile in your campaign ads and throw dinner parties for you?”

Lucian’s grin broadened. “No time. Maybe after I win. Right now, that’s where all my real energy’s going.”

Justin sat down in an armchair near the sofa, handing over Lucian’s drink as he did. “Does it take that much energy? Don’t you have this sealed up?”

“Never assume anything in politics. We’re still in the lead, but Chu from the New People’s Party has been going up in the polls. Very quickly.” Lucian’s dark eyes stared off into space as he sipped the drink, his mind spinning with numbers and points. “We need something big. No more well-written speeches and school visits. Something that’ll stick in the hearts and minds of people and make them see me as a leader, not just someone trying to win a contest.”