“Forgive me,” said Mercado. “I’m speaking over you. Tessa, Darius. This is our wellness counselor, Dr. Nico Cassidy. When he’s not listening to us bemoan our problems, he runs a youth group for those interested in politics. Secondary and tertiary aged. It’d be a great favor to us if you’d consider visiting it sometime. You too,” he added to Darius, clearly as an afterthought.
Tessa nearly dropped the empty tray she was carrying, and it had nothing to do with being extended a personal invitation by someone so powerful. Nico Cassidy. This was the man Daphne had told her about, the one who possibly had ties to a religion. Looking at him now, Tessa saw nothing particularly sinister about him. He might not be a politician, per se, but he had that same polished feel that everyone else in this field seemed to radiate.
“It would be an honor, sir,” exclaimed Darius. Then, seeming to realize Tessa and her exotic background were his ticket in, he glanced at her. “Right? Wouldn’t you like to go, Tessa?”
In truth? Not really. Tessa had too much on her plate with Daphne and school to take on some extracurricular activity. But the pleading in Darius’s voice was unmistakable. She also couldn’t shake Daphne’s reminders about her being a good journalist and the public’s right to know the truth. Even Tessa’s own words came back to haunt her, about how she wouldn’t use Darius to learn about Dr. Cassidy. Unless he walks right up to me and tells me his story, you’re out of luck.
Well, Tessa had technically walked up to him, but here he was, inviting her to learn more about him—and Darius seemed more than eager to help, though his motives were obviously different from hers. In fact, she didn’t even know what her motives were. She still wasn’t sure she bought Daphne’s conspiracy theory, but if ever there was a time to investigate, here it was.
“Tessa?” Darius prompted.
All three men watched her expectantly, and she mustered a brave smile. “Sure,” she said. “I’d love to.”
CHAPTER 11
Spiritual Coin
A knock at the bedroom door woke Justin out of a surprisingly sound sleep. The accommodations they’d given him weren’t fancy, but they were clean and functional. Even a stiff bed was better than no bed after yesterday’s mentally and physically exhausting day. Pushing aside the covers, he sat up and wasn’t surprised to see that Mae was already at the door. She opened it unhesitatingly, and through his sleepy brain, he noted that the knock had been done in a pattern the Gemmans had established amongst themselves.
“Pardon me, ma’am.” A young Gemman soldier in gray and maroon stood outside the door. “There’s an Arcadian at the other door who says she’s here to collect you and the other women for breakfast.
To make breakfast,” he amended, blushing. It looked like it was killing him to deliver such humiliating news to someone he considered a superior.
“What time is it?” asked Justin. They’d left their egos at the Gemman base, and there wasn’t even a manual alarm clock in this room, let alone the sophisticated system he had back home that would tell him the time, weather, and news with a voice command.
“Oh-four-hundred,” said the solider apologetically. “Local time.” The early hour meant little to sleepless Mae, and from the looks of her, she must have grabbed a shower and clean change of clothes overnight. Whatever resentment she might feel about the tasks at hand, she pushed it down with soldierly discipline and even managed a parting smile for Justin. He fell back asleep almost immediately after she left and was awakened again later by the same soldier at the door.
“It’s six, sir,” he said when Justin staggered to answer it. “Daily meeting in a half-hour, then breakfast.”
Justin managed to yawn out his thanks and then made his way to a shower. The guest house held two of them, and he was lucky enough to find Phil just finishing up. The water was hot and plentiful, even with so many people in the estate, and as Justin slowly woke up, he found himself thinking again about Mae’s words and how the Arcadians were perfectly advanced when they wanted to be. Afterward, he put on one of his best suits and wandered back to the common area, just as the others were sitting down to the first of their daily check-ins while here in Arcadia.
“All clear,” said George, taking a seat beside Lucian. Along with the five main delegates, three of the commanding officers from the Gemman soldiers were also present. “No listening devices.”
“Good,” said Lucian. Cleaned and dressed, he too looked as though he’d had a solid night’s sleep. “Let’s get started since we’re all here.”
“Not all of us are here,” grumbled George. “The praetorian women were supposed to be part of these meetings, not off degrading themselves with household labor.”
“They knew what they were getting into, and it’s not degrading,” insisted Atticus. “I mean . . . it is, since women are expected to suffer and have harder lots, but they aren’t singling our women out. Besides, it’s just housework. I’m sure they’d rather be doing that than risking their lives in a border battle.”
“You obviously haven’t spent much time around praetorians,” said Justin.
Lucian leaned forward in his chair and rested his chin on folded hands. “If you ask me, we’re degrading the women by even suggesting this is a problem. They’re smart. They’re competent. They can handle this, so let’s get onto the rest of the day’s itinerary and hope we’re just as successful.”
Atticus was only too happy to jump into his paperwork. The presidential luncheon had been planned before their arrival, so many of the details were familiar. Lucian would be the superstar, with the others playing supporting roles.
“The tour afterward should be straightforward,” continued Atticus, scrolling through his itinerary on a very basic reader. “George—I doubt they’ll take us anywhere too sensitive, but keep your eyes open. And as for you, Justin.” Atticus set the reader down and looked up. “Meeting with the Grand Disciple’s a pretty big deal. Not sure what brought this about, but be careful. Even in Arcadia, the president has to go through the motions of the law. But the Grand Disciple . . . well, his word is kind of its own law.”
“In other words,” said Lucian, “don’t piss him off.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Justin. “Any idea why he’s asked for this meeting?”
Attitcus shook his head. “He may just be curious. And we have to remember that having religion and politics mixed is absolutely normal for them. It may just be a matter of us having never considered that a priest would be involved in a state visit.”
After going over a few more points, Atticus wrapped up the meeting, just as an Arcadian soldier came to fetch them for breakfast. Justin had the impression they weren’t a normal fixture in Carl’s household, but during this Gemman visit, they were serving as regular go-betweens. The soldier took them out to the same dining room, which only had one table for the men this time. The women, Justin was told, would eat on their own later and would work now to feed and serve the men. It was something of a relief to him that only Carl’s household women did the actual serving. He wasn’t sure he could’ve handled the awkwardness of Mae or Val being subservient, faked or not.
Their host was in good spirits, delighted to hear that everyone had slept well and found the accommodations satisfactory. Lunch with the president wasn’t a normal occurrence for him, so he was equally puffed with pride to be playing a role in that and help out the undersecretary who’d come to school the Gemmans in any additional pieces of etiquette. Atticus had done a pretty thorough job, and by the time the meal was finished, Justin found himself surprisingly calm about going off to meet the secular leader of one of his country’s greatest enemies. That would mostly be Lucian’s show anyway.