He remained warm to the touch, but his breathing grew even and regular, and she hoped that solid sleep would cure whatever this ailment was. A knock at the door an hour later forced her to gently remove him from her lap and admit Lucian into the room. He handed her a plate of food as his gaze drifted to Justin’s sleeping form.
“He really is sick,” said Lucian. “I thought maybe . . .”
“You thought what?” prompted Mae when he didn’t continue.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Is there anything I can do? Do we need to find a doctor?”
Mae set down the plate and handed Lucian the hat that Justin had been sick in. “You can get rid of this,” she said. “And make apologies to Carl.”
Lucian wrinkled his nose and promptly set the hat outside of the room. “Noted. Anything else? Anything else I can do . . . for you? I hate that you’re locked away like this . . . though, honestly, I don’t want to see you suffocated in all those scarves either.”
There was legitimate concern in his voice, and it occurred to her that the unvoiced thought he’d hinted at might be that Justin had faked being sick in order to arrange some sort of liaison with her. I’ve given so little encouragement, she mused. And yet he remains interested. What should I do to be clearer? That was followed by a more startling thought: Should I be clearer?
Mae had never played the games other girls in her caste and social status had seemed to love so much. And as an adult, her dealings with men had generally been straightforward as well. She ended things that needed to be ended and didn’t lead others on for her own gain or ego gratification. Justin had told her not to mention her niece to Lucian, but she now wondered if that was really the best course of action. Surely there might be a way to approach this that didn’t bring up the supernatural aspect at all.
“This is a hard country for women,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m glad I wasn’t born into it and feel sorry for those who were—especially since they don’t know any better. I’ve heard stories . . .” She paused to glance away, as though too overcome to go on. “I’ve heard of them stealing women and girls, not just from the provinces but from the RUNA too. Is there any truth to that?”
“In my experience, you can’t put anything past anyone,” he told her grimly. “Anything’s possible—but if it does happen to us, it doesn’t happen very often. Our border’s too locked down. It’s not easy for them to sneak over and snatch girls.”
Unless castals are just handing them over, Mae thought bitterly. To Lucian, she said, “‘Not very often’ is still too often. Is there anything you could do to get them back?”
He shook his head. “Finding them would be next to impossible.”
”Physically, it might be obvious,” she said. “Less or even no Cain.
And then all you’d have to do is a genetic test to match their parents to our registry.”
“They’d have to be in the RUNA for that. We don’t have the means to test here, and the Arcadians certainly aren’t going to let us bring them back based on a hunch over physical appearance. Even if we had some kind of hard proof that someone was a Gemman national, the politics of it would be sticky—especially if she’d been here long enough and was brainwashed into this system. An Arcadian wife with four kids isn’t going to want to come back, especially since they’re all taught that we’re godless servants of evil.”
Mae wondered if the same would hold true for a girl of eight. She made no response, but her face must have given away her dismay. Lucian gently touched her arm and drew her nearer.
“I understand your concern,” he told her. “I don’t want to see anyone stuck in this system, born to it or not. If there was something I could do, I would, but it’s out of my control.”
Mae smiled, though she didn’t feel much humor. “You’re going to be one of the two most powerful people in the RUNA. Is anything going to be beyond you?”
He gave her a long, level look, and when he answered, she wasn’t sure if they were still talking about the girls. “Some things just might be.”
Behind her, Justin groaned in his sleep, and she hurriedly moved back to the bed. “I should sit with him,” she told Lucian. “I’ll let you know if he gets worse, but hopefully he’ll just sleep it off.”
“Ah,” said Lucian. “It’s one of those things.”
Mae realized he’d misunderstood and thought Justin had overdosed but decided not to clarify. Better for Lucian to think Justin had popped one too many of his daily stimulants than know that he’d been communing with supernatural forces.
She sat by Justin’s side until morning, when his fever finally broke. He woke up, face drawn and exhausted, but eyes much clearer than they had been. She helped him sit up and brought more water, waiting until he’d had his fill before broaching what had happened.
“Do you remember anything?” she asked. “You were kind of out of it.”
“In more ways than you can imagine,” he said with a grimace. “I was out of my body . . . and in Magnus’s. We flew to the temple and spied on the Grand Disciple.” Justin suddenly straightened up. “Fuck, Mae. That nut wants to take out the media stream. He actually thinks he can send hackers or something with those missionary lecturers to do it and then launch an invasion.”
She blinked in astonishment. “You said something like that . . . but I thought you were just delirious. You also said there’s redundancy built into the stream, which is true. It’s nearly impossible to take down.”
“Then why was he so confident?” Justin raked a hand through his disheveled hair, his face lined with thought. “They have nothing comparable to that in their infrastructure. Nothing. Even if they had programmers from the provinces—hell, even the EA—they wouldn’t have the knowledge needed to crack our system.”
“Maybe you should tell the others.”
“With what proof?” Justin sighed. “I mean, I guess it’s all a moot point if I find a way to stall the Grand Disciple’s request. But then . . . should I? If they really do have intel, then that’s something we need to find out. If only there was a way to—”
Someone knocked at the door, and when Mae called a greeting, she saw Val’s face appear. The other praetorian grinned upon seeing Justin sitting up. “Well, well, you are alive. Barely. The senator’s report wasn’t so upbeat the last time he saw you.”
“I can’t promise I’ll be my normal sunny self for a little while,” said Justin, “but yes, it looks like I’ll survive another day.”
Val nodded. “That’s what we figured. Lucian had them send word this morning that you wouldn’t make brunch because you were sick. The temple then sent some guy here to check on you, I guess to make sure you weren’t faking. But we can tell him you’re out of commission until further notice.”
“Wait,” called Justin, seeing her back out. “Did you get his name? The guy they sent?”
“Hansen, I think.”
Justin went still, and Mae could practically see the wheels of thought spinning behind his eyes. “Tell him I’ll talk to him here in—I don’t know, fifteen minutes. Give me a chance to clean up first.”
He moved to the edge of the bed and winced when he tried to stand. Mae quickly intercepted him and slid her arm around him for support. “Like hell. You need to rest.”