Richelle Mead - The Immortal Crown

Family life returned to normal, and Justin learned that Tessa had weirdly gotten involved with a youth group supporting Lucian’s political party and had also been pretty intently wrapped up in her journalism internship. Rufus was quick to reassure any concerns Justin had about Daphne exploiting Tessa.

“You don’t need to worry about the reporter,” Rufus explained in the study one day. “I mean, she’s slimy like all of them, but I’ve been around when they’re together, and although she does ask Tessa a lot of questions, I think it’s more natural habit than anything else. She hasn’t tried digging into Tessa’s personal life or seem like she’s working that poor-provincial-in-the-big-city angle. I also checked her for surveillance equipment each time she came over. She never got a recorder in. And from what I’ve gathered, Tessa’s cut ties with her anyway.”

“Good to know,” said Justin, looking Rufus over. “Thank you for watching the situation. And for everything else.” He hadn’t had much time to talk to Rufus since returning. Mostly the other man stayed out of the way, and both Tessa and Cynthia spoke favorably of him. Best of all, there’d been no incidents or attacks in Justin’s absence. Maybe it was coincidence, but he was more than willing to give credit where credit was due.

“Just doing my job.” Rufus’s expression turned thoughtful. “But on that note . . . well, there’s actually something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. Actually, I wanted to talk to Praetorian Koskinen, but she hasn’t been returning messages.”

“She’s still preoccupied,” said Justin carefully. Preoccupied in the Arcadian wilderness. And like that, all the worries and imaginings he’d been trying to push aside since returning came tumbling down on him. He’d tried to distract himself with the press, with his family, with Hansen . . . but there was no getting around it. Mae was still missing, and it was literally keeping him up at night.

“That’s too bad,” said Rufus after a moment of scrutiny. “Well, then I guess I should give you my notice instead. I really wanted to stay on, but other commitments have come up, and I may have to be gone within the week. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Justin dragged his thoughts from Mae. “No, no . . . I mean, yeah, it’s too bad. Everyone likes you, but I’m sure Dag can sub in more praetorians. If it’s about money—”

Rufus shook his head. “The money’s good. I’ve just got bigger things calling me—no offense.”

“None taken,” said Justin. “Just let me know when you think you’re going.”

“Probably in a few more days, but I’ll let you know for sure.” Rufus turned for the door but then paused. “Maybe Praetorian Koskinen will be back by them.”

“Maybe,” said Justin, his heart sinking.

On Justin’s fifth day back in Vancouver, Lucian showed up unannounced at his door one afternoon, and that’s when Justin knew. It was also the day the Arcadian hackers were being set up, but as monumental as that was, that wouldn’t have brought Lucian in person.

“She’s back,” said Justin.

Lucian’s face split into a grin. “She’s back.”

Justin hurried him inside, giving a brief nod of greeting to his bodyguard. “Come in, and tell me everything.”

The bodyguard stayed behind in the living room while Justin brought Lucian to the study with a bottle of brandy and two glasses.

“She’s actually been back a few days,” Lucian began.

Justin nearly dropped the bottle as he poured. “And you only now just told me?”

“I honestly didn’t know. The military’s been all over it and didn’t let us in on it until today. I guess since I’d already left a statement with them when we came back, they didn’t feel the need to check in since her story matched ours—well, mostly matched. I’m sure she was surprised to hear I’d authorized her daring mission. But she’s smart. She probably rolled along with it.”

“Of course she did.” Justin spoke more harshly than he intended, largely to cover up his own spiraling emotions. As it was, he was having to work hard to stop his hands from shaking. “So she really made it in without getting caught? And with the girls?”

Lucian nodded. “All eleven of them, doe-eyed and adorable from what I’ve heard. They’ve matched their genes to the registry, and all but two were born from Gemman parents. Doesn’t matter, though. No one’s going to turn those other two away. Sounds like her niece wasn’t the only one smuggled out for convenience either, but that’s all for the social workers to sort out.”

“As long as you can get one reunited family to gush their gratitude to you in a well-televised way, it’ll be a PR job well done,” said Justin bitterly.

“That’s not the only reason I did this.”

Justin knocked back his brandy and noticed Lucian was keeping pace. It was possible the senator had been almost as stressed over all of this as Justin. “I know,” Justin admitted. “And I know what a big gamble you took coming out and taking responsibility for this. Thank you. It must’ve gone a long way in smoothing the way back for her.”

“Don’t get carried away,” said Lucian. “I didn’t necessarily do it for you either.”

“Ah.” Justin paused to pour more brandy. “Right. Finally you’ve found out how to win your way into her heart or her bed . . . or whatever it is you’re after.”

Lucian held out his glass for a refill. “Do you really think my motivations are that shallow?”

“I honestly don’t know what to think,” said Justin. “You’ve continued chasing her, despite her lack of interest and a million societal reasons going against you. What’s your game here? Your most optimistic outcome is a secret one-night fling. That’s it. You can’t be seen publicly. You can’t date her. You can’t marry her. Your career won’t allow it.”

Lucian leaned back, looking far too smug, and rested his feet on Justin’s desk. “Have you seen my approval ratings? And that’s before all this other stuff breaks. It’s going to take a lot to turn the public against me now, and if we bring her into this—actually make it known that she’s the one responsible for bravely rescuing a group of orphans— she’ll be just as loved. A heritage that she isn’t even active in isn’t going to matter in the public eye. The Nordics’ll be pissed off, maybe. Everyone else’ll eat it up.”

“I just don’t get how you can be that into her,” said Justin. “I mean, I do, but you don’t really know her. Is the blonde hair really that appealing?”

“Yes,” said Lucian. Then, after a calculated pause: “As is a woman who’s a powerful elect.”

Justin set his glass down so hard, the brandy sloshed out. “Goddamnit! I knew it. Or I should have. How much do you know?”

“I know that you spend as much time investigating gods as you do their followers. I know about the reports SCI keep hidden away, the stories of things no one can explain. I know the elect are scrambling— as they should be—to secure their gods’ positions.”

“Goddamnit,” Justin said again. He and Mae had briefly speculated that Lucian might be aware of SCI’s secret work but had never pursued the lead. Even before then, Justin should’ve paid more attention to something Geraki had said: We’re not the only ones who know what’s happening. Your human masters know. So do powerful people you don’t even suspect. Justin had been a fool not to guess that someone on the verge of occupying one of the two highest offices in the country would have been tipped off on this.

Justin also realized he was a fool not to have suspected something else. “Who do you serve?” he demanded.