Richelle Mead - Gameboard of the Gods

“Quentin,” said Justin, surprised at how much his nephew had grown. What was he now? Eight. “Do you remember me?”

Quentin’s face said he didn’t. “This is your uncle Justin,” Cynthia explained.

Recognition lit the boy’s features. “The arrogant bastard who ran out on us.”

“That’s the one,” she said. She looked quite proud of her son’s excellent memory.

Justin scoffed. “No question that you’re part of this family, huh?”

Really, though, Quentin’s features said more than enough about which family he belonged to. He looked just like Cynthia, from the high cheekbones to the almond-shaped eyes. They were hazel flecked with green, an unusual recessive variation. His hair was all plebeian, though: the dark, almost black shade of brown that Justin, Cynthia, and their mother all shared.

“I should go,” said Mae. “It looks like you’ve got a few things to sort out.” She managed to keep a straight face as she delivered that understatement.

“When will I hear from you?” he asked.

She straightened up, displaying that exquisite posture she’d acquired in her caste or the military, or maybe some mix of both. “Whenever SCI gets things started. It was very nice to meet you. All of you.”

Mae had taken two steps toward the door when Justin realized something. “Wait. Where am I staying?”

Mae’s face was perfectly neutral. “Here, I suppose. This was the only address they gave me.”

“Here?” He looked around, feeling like he was seeing it for the first time. “This is Cynthia’s place. Cornelia promised me a place of my own.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t set this up.” Mae turned pensive as she mulled things over. “You asked for a nice place. And you asked for a nice place for your sister. You didn’t specify that they be different.”

She’s right, said Horatio. And that’s an interpretation Cornelia would love exploiting.

Justin couldn’t formulate a response right away. “But I…no! I can’t live with my sister. Do you know how not cool that is? I can’t live in the suburbs. I’m supposed to have a place in the city.”

Mae wasn’t sympathetic at all, and despite having her poker face back, he was pretty sure she was laughing at him on the inside. “You should’ve been clearer. Besides, it’s an easy commute on the purple line.”

“You should be grateful. This place is like a palace,” said Cynthia, mimicking him from earlier. Judging from her look of glee, she actually liked this turn of events far more than his actual return. After a week of living together, she’d probably have a very different opinion.

“Talk to someone in Internal Security when you’re back up and running,” Mae told him. “I’m sure you can be persistent enough to get this fixed.”

Justin nodded in acceptance, knowing there was nothing she could do anyway. He could lay other grievances at her feet, but not this one. Maybe it was just as well that this hiccup had occurred. He could choose his own place instead of having some administrative assistant do it. Without further complaint, he gave Mae a reluctant thank-you and let her leave. He watched her walk away and then quickly turned when he realized he was admiring her legs.

“I kind of like her,” said Cynthia after they heard the front door close.

“She’s castal,” he said, knowing Cynthia wouldn’t like that. He glanced over and saw Tessa practically swaying. “Oh, sweetie.” He put an arm around her. “She’s got to get to bed, Cyn.” An alarming thought occurred to him. “Is this place furnished?” The living room they’d passed seemed to be, but after the other zany events surrounding his accommodations, he couldn’t presume anything.

“To the smallest detail,” Cynthia said. Her expression turned kind as she regarded Tessa. She could be brash and uncouth at times, but Cynthia had been a mother for eight years, and that nature permeated a lot of her actions. She picked up Tessa’s suitcase. “Come on, I’ve got the perfect room for you.” To Justin, she said sharply, “Don’t go anywhere.” Like he had a choice.

“I’ll check on you once you’re settled,” he told Tessa.

The two women disappeared, leaving Justin awkwardly alone with Quentin. “There’s wine in that cupboard by the pantry,” Quentin said.

“What makes you think I want it?” Justin asked. In truth, it sounded like a great idea, and he headed right to the door.

“Because when Mom was opening all the cupboards, she saw it and said, ‘Well, I guess we’re prepared if any of the family drunks stop by.’”

Justin pulled out a bottle at random. It was a Syrah. “Your mom’s a classy lady.”

“Why do I have a feeling ‘classy’ wasn’t the first word that came to mind?” Cynthia said as she returned to the kitchen and promptly found him a glass and corkscrew.

“Because everyone in our family is brilliant and astute.” Justin filled the glass up as far as he could. “That was fast.”

A smile twisted Cynthia’s lips. “Poor kid just went straight to the bed and fell asleep.” She nodded to Quentin. “Go to your room. I need to talk to your uncle.” He looked reluctant to miss the unfolding family drama, but a sharper command sent him scurrying.

Justin held up the wine bottle. “Want some?”

“Wouldn’t want to deprive you.” She rested her elbows on the kitchen’s island and leaned forward. “I’m glad you’re back, you know. I almost missed you. But I’m still mad at you.”

“I know,” he said. “I missed you too.” Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how true those words were. Cynthia infuriated him sometimes, but she always kept him honest. She’d been his first, best friend, and being away from her for so long had left a hole inside him. He set the wine down and wrapped his arms around her, finally allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. Too much had happened between them for him to put up his usual façade. “And I’m sorry. I know what a bad position you were left in.”

She rested her head against his chest. “I should be used to that by now. But, Justin…why did you go? Why on earth were you in Panama? Do you know how weird it is for you to show up after four years with a prætorian and a provincial girl?”

“Yeah,” he said, finally releasing her. “Believe me, I’m fully aware of how weird it is.”

“You didn’t answer my question about why you left.”

“Because I can’t tell you, Cyn.” He could guess her next question. “I’m serious—it’s a security thing. And I can’t tell you why I’m back. But I’m going to get things in order right away. Your name’s going to go on everything I’ve got, all my accounts. You won’t be screwed over again.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Are you leaving again?”

Justin wished he knew. Francis certainly seemed to think the RUNA couldn’t get on without Justin, but Magnus had been right about Justin’s value possibly decreasing if he found the video’s modification. And of course, if he didn’t find anything in four weeks, it would all be for nothing. Nonetheless, Justin mustered a smile for his sister and topped off his glass. “Of course not.”

Inside his head, he heard Horatio tsk. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

Prætorians didn’t sleep, but Mae felt mentally exhausted as she rode the train back into the city. Her brief visit to the March household had been both comical and heartbreaking, and she couldn’t even imagine what else would unfold there tonight.

Their family drama was squashed by the much larger issue weighing on Mae: Justin himself. Her stomach still sank each time she thought of that terrible moment when she’d walked into Cornelia’s hotel suite and realized her breathtaking, exotic lover was a guy who got inside other people’s heads for a living and made an art of seducing women. It had taken every bit of self-control she possessed to stay calm and pay attention to the briefing.