Mark Del Franco - Face Off

Sinclair again. She smiled, both at the thought of him and Genda’s joke about beaches in Scotland. He was never far from her thoughts these days. She sipped her wine and considered that maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in her life.

RETURNING TO THEGuildhouse, Laura and Genda went their separate ways in the suite they shared two flights up from the investigative units. The lunch had had its desired effect, a brief time-out for Laura from the dramas of InterSec and the Guild. It felt normal, something everyone did, catching up with an acquaintance, not getting into the gruesome or tedious details of their lives or feeling obligated to do something out of a sense of duty.

Laura’s sense of respite, though, evaporated as she settled behind the desk in the Mariel Tate office. A sealed envelope addressed to her in Terryn’s handwriting was centered on her glass-topped desk. The message asked her to meet him on one of the upper floors of the Guildhouse. Terryn rarely left notes. Sending the hard-copy message meant the meeting was about a security issue he didn’t want detected by an electronic trail. She swiped a mild charge of essence across the page and obliterated the writing.

The elevator opened on the hushed quiet of a residential floor that Terryn had directed her to. Laura checked her outfit in a large hall mirror as Inverni security guards stationed there examined her ID. Their uniforms—the royal blue tunics with high collars of the Inverni Guardians—confirmed her suspicions. The Guardians were the macCullen clan’s official security force, probably Draigen’s advance team.

The Guards’ sharp, ebony wings glittered with indigo and green spots of essence, a sign of alertness but not alarm. They passed her through without comment. More guards lined the corridor leading to the suite that Draigen macCullen would be occupying the next day. Despite Guildhouse security, it was not unusual for the Guild to allow important public figures to bring their own security with them as long as they remained courteous and cooperative with building staff. By the presence of the Inverni advance staff, Laura assumed Terryn wanted to brief her on last-minute security details.

Laura waited outside the doors to the suite while the guards checked her credentials again. The review was a formality since she had been requested to appear by Terryn, but she didn’t object. Rules provided structure, and structure often provided safety to high-level officials exposed to constant death threats.

The doors were opened from within, and Laura entered a large living-room suite. With their backs to the room, Terryn waited with a woman by the large shielded windows that framed a partial view of the Mall. Terryn didn’t turn from his position at the window as Laura crossed to the room. “Draigen, let me introduce Mariel Tate, one of my most trusted agents.”

The woman shifted toward her, and Laura paused in surprise at her first look at Draigen macCullen in person. Pictures of the Inverni regent didn’t do justice to the woman. Most Inverni tended to be shorter in height and stockier than their Danann cousins, but the macCullen clan members were tall. Draigen had her brother’s height and dark hair. Her coloring, though, was paler than his, blue tones shadowing the planes of her face. She tilted her head to acknowledge Laura. “Agent Tate, I have heard much about you.”

Since Terryn introduced her as an agent, she didn’t bow. InterSec agents gave courtesy to everyone but were not required to adhere to royal protocols that appeared to show subservience. “Lady Regent, it is my pleasure. I did not expect you until tomorrow.”

I’ve scanned the room, but I would like you to confirm for me, Terryn sent. His concern about eavesdropping didn’t surprise Laura. The Inverni might be part of the Seelie Court, but that didn’t mean the clans trusted each other, especially if they were in one of High Queen Maeve’s Guildhouses.

Lifting a languid hand, Draigen focused ice blue eyes on Laura. “My brother insisted I arrive with little fanfare to ensure my security.”

Rather than touching her forehead to the extended hand, Laura clasped and shook it once. Draigen withdrew, a surprised but unoffended look on her face. “It is a pleasure, as well.”

While they spoke, Laura swept the room with her sensing ability, testing for listening wards, but found none. She assumed Terryn had had someone do a sweep for electronics. “The area is clear, Terryn.” The oddity of the situation amused Laura. Protocol often conflicted with reality. Terryn, as heir to the macCullen clan leadership, outranked his sister, yet Laura was allowed by the rules to address him by his name while using a formal title for his sister.

Terryn remained focused on the view out the window. “Draigen is settling in, but I wanted you to meet as soon as possible. I’ve told her she can call upon you at any time in my absence.”

Laura had no problem with such assignments, but it was unusual for Terryn to give the “any time” access when she was running an undercover persona. She’d deal with any conflicts it created, but she wasn’t thrilled he hadn’t informed her beforehand. She would have at least liked some input.

“Why don’t we sit?” Draigen gestured to the sitting area. They arranged themselves around a low coffee table, Terryn and Laura in opposite armchairs while Draigen occupied the center of a long sofa.

“Will you have any specific needs from me, Lady Regent?” Laura asked.

Draigen leaned back, her black skirt sliding open to reveal black leggings. Even in a casual posture, she didn’t seem relaxed. “Terryn tells me you have insights into the workings of this Guildhouse.”

Laura glanced at Terryn, wondering how far he had gone in that telling. She didn’t think he had revealed her Guild position as Laura Blackstone. With the heavy warding in the room, Draigen likely would have spoken more openly about it. If she accepted Mariel Tate’s bona fides on Terryn’s word alone, though, that confidence said much about their relationship. “I’ve been in Washington a long time, Lady Regent.”

“Please, call me Draigen,” she said.

“I don’t think I can do that, ma’am,” said Laura. She meant it. Protocol might justify her not bowing, but that didn’t mean she could treat Draigen as a friend. It was one thing to be on a first-name basis with Terryn. His monarchial status was like an entry in a biographical sketch—something that identified him but didn’t define him. Draigen, however, was the regent of a major fairy clan. For all practical purposes, she was an acting underQueen, outranked only by Terryn and High Queen Maeve.

Draigen let out a soft laugh, as if she was surprised at the sound she made. “I appreciate that and thank you. I don’t often find myself respected for my position these days. If you must, call me Lady, then. If Terryn names you friend, I hope we shall be so as well.”

“As you wish, then,” Laura said.

A servant entered the room, placed small glasses of whiskey on the table, then slipped out. Among the many traditions some fey liked to keep, toasting to new acquaintances was ritual. They each retrieved a glass and held them out.

“May our meeting grow our shared purposes,” said Draigen.

“May our hopes light the way to tomorrow,” said Terryn.

“May our hands join in friendship,” Laura said.

“Slainte,” said Draigen. Terryn and Laura replied the same. They drained their glasses.

Draigen held on to her glass, rolling it in the palm of her hand. “I have had several assassination threats prior to this journey. I wonder if you believe this Guildhouse would be involved.”

Laura debated whether the question revealed a high level of paranoia or a credible assessment of her situation. Someone in Draigen’s position always had to be aware of physical threats, but in Laura’s experience, some high-level people gave the routine more credence than necessary. “The politics of the Washington Guildhouse can be quite nuanced, Lady. Its mission is to facilitate the High Queen’s will with the U.S. government. I’m sure Terryn would agree that destabilizing one of its own constituencies has never been part of its mission.”