Justin was unmoved. “Well, none of that’s happened yet, so there’s still time to fix this.”
Cornelia fell into thought and absentmindedly tucked her orangey- red hair behind her ears. “Are you so sure this isn’t something you should do? We don’t know if . . . what’s happening here is happening in Arcadia as well. This might be our only chance to find out.” Even though she was the head of the department and oversaw Justin’s project, she still had difficulty giving voice to anything that lent credence to the supernatural.
“I can respect that,” he said, through gritted teeth. Calm was key. This was Lucian’s fault, not Cornelia’s. “But I’d rather not do it when every single move is being scrutinized as part of some bigger political game I never asked to be a part of. How do you really expect me to get any efficient work done?”
That, an appeal to Cornelia’s work ethic and pragmatism, got through. “Well, then, you’d best talk to Director Kyle immediately. He’s probably the only one who can stop this.”
Justin was already moving toward the door. “Thanks. I’ll go upstairs now.”
“He’s not there today,” she called after him. “He’s in his other office, in the Citizens building.”
Justin stopped by his own office first, where he found Mae checking messages on her ego, with no donuts left. “I’m going across the square to find Francis Kyle. You won’t believe what’s fucking happened.”
He gave her a brief recap. She listened to it all calmly, not appearing nearly as outraged as she should—but then, she allegedly wanted danger and excitement. In fact, when he moved to leave, she sprang up after him.
“Justin, wait.” She came to stand by him at the door. “Think about this. It’s already in motion. There won’t be another chance to find out if the game has spread to Arcadia.”
“We don’t know that it’s our only chance,” he said. “Maybe Lucian will wow them with his wit and charm so much that we’ll open all borders, and then you and I can go investigate with a lot less pressure riding on us.”
“Is that what bothers you?” Mae asked, peering up into his eyes. “That Lucian got the better of you here?”
“Lucian’s never gotten the better of me in his life. But yes, if you must know, I don’t like that he manipulated me and went behind my back. So now I’m going to undo it. Francis Kyle loves me. He’ll do whatever I want.”
“Wait—” She caught Justin’s hand, and he halted more from surprise than any force of hers. “Justin—I . . .” Her remarkable blue- green eyes looked away for several moments and then met his with resolve. “I want to do this. I can’t explain it, but I want to. I need to. Please, let this go through. If not for our country—then, I don’t know. Do it as . . . as a personal favor to me.”
Justin was dumbstruck. In their time together, many things had happened, but he couldn’t ever recall her asking for something for herself. As it was, she sometimes grew uncomfortable when he bought her coffee.
“Why?” he demanded. “Why is this so important to you?”
“It just is,” she said lamely. “I told you, I can’t explain it. Please.
Please. Do this for me, and I’ll try to tell you one day.”
While a number of memories from their night together still remained with him, one of the most powerful was a rare show of openness in Mae. Even then, when he’d barely known her, he’d gotten the sense that he was seeing something elusive, that this was a woman who kept herself well-guarded and rarely let down those walls to show others what was within. Now, unexpectedly, he was seeing it again, and it unnerved him. Sure, it was very different in feel than what he’d witnessed in the act of passion, but the power of it was still there. What surprised him the most was that it triggered a sense of unworthiness in him. Normally, he thrived on having power over others, on being able to hold knowledge or favors over them. Yet, now all he could wonder about was how a man like him deserved to have a woman like her open up to him.
Why does she have this effect on me? he asked the ravens. Why am
I even hesitating? This isn’t a small thing, like asking me to pick up dinner tonight.
Maybe it’s more like organizing massive security for you and your family, suggested Horatio slyly.
Justin considered. No. That’s big, yes, but getting her friends to pull shifts at my house still isn’t on the same level as being part of a highly public entourage that’s traipsing into a hostile country.
You thrive on attention, argued Horatio. Why is the public spotlight a problem? And you’re probably safer with all that security there than you are here and on your regular assignments.
Why are you so in favor of me going? Justin asked suspiciously. Is it because of your obsession with her? Or is this really that relevant to Odin’s interests?
It was Magnus who answered. You make it sound as though there can only be one reason.
Before Justin could ponder this further, Mae asked softly, “What are they saying?”
He tuned back into her. That earlier anxiety was still written on her face, but there was also a small smile as she regarded him. “Hmm?”
“The ravens,” she said. “I know that look you get when you’re talking to them.”
“They . . . they want to go to Arcadia.”
“Yeah?” She tilted her head, and though the smile broadened a little, her tension remained. “So are you going to be contrary just to spite them?”
Good question, remarked Horatio. “I—”
Justin was interrupted by a knock at the door. He opened it and found Cornelia, looking understandably surprised to find him and Mae both standing right there. “Director Kyle just came back to the building. If you hurry up to his office, you can catch him.”
It was perhaps one of the more considerate things Cornelia had ever done for him, but Justin had no time to expound on her kindness. “I . . .” He glanced back at Mae, and although she’d transformed into tough praetorian mode for Cornelia’s benefit, he still thought he could see a glimpse of that lingering vulnerability. Filled with resolve, hoping he wasn’t being an idiot, he turned back to Cornelia.
“We’re going to go. To Arcadia, that is.”
Cornelia’s only visible sign of surprise was an arching of one orange eyebrow. “Well, then,” she said. “That will certainly save a lot of hassle.”
“Or create some,” he muttered. “What time was that briefing?”
”Six,” she said. “In the senate—if you don’t change your mind again.”
Justin ignored the snide tone and watched her walk away. A light touch on his shoulder made him look back at Mae. There was wonder in her face, wonder and disbelief and a gentleness that was almost as uncharacteristic as the earlier vulnerability—and even more disconcerting.
Life is easier when she’s mad at me, he suddenly realized. “Justin,” she breathed. “Thank you. I—”
He held up a hand and backed away from her. “Forget it. There’d be no living with you or the ravens. That, and I wouldn’t be surprised if SCI did eventually find a need to send us there someday. Better do it now under the comfort of Lucian’s banner.”
Mae looked dumbfounded. “Then where . . . where are you going now?”
“Gotta check on something. I’ll meet you back here in time for the briefing.”
He ignored her protests about her coming with him for safety, assuring her that he wasn’t going far from Hale Square, which was swarming with federal security. It wasn’t his sense of safety that made him urge her to stay behind, however. The truth was, Justin wasn’t sure he could handle the face of her gratitude. He’d meant it: her anger was easier to deal with. He could stay strong against that. But a kinder, gentler Mae . . . one who was looking at him like that . . . well, that was too much. It was too great a reminder of what hung over him, that she was the woman Odin had picked out for him, one who held the key to his undoing.