Daphne’s smugness vanished. “Tessa! You can’t do that. If they can’t recover this microphone—”
“Then I guess you’re out of luck.” Tessa turned and raised her voice. “Rufus?” The stocky bodyguard appeared within moments.
“Daphne and I are done for the day. Please make sure she gets out okay.”
Rufus looked as though he wanted nothing more in the world to do than just that and swiftly opened the door, giving Daphne a pointed look. “Tessa—” she tried again, but Tessa wasn’t paying attention anymore.
She walked away, leaving it for Rufus to sort out. All the while, Tessa’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Had she ended things soon enough? Was it possible Leo was wrong, and the microphone might be salvageable? No, Tessa felt confident in his advice, if nothing else. He wouldn’t have given her a household remedy if it wasn’t foolproof. The question now was if Daphne could do any damage based simply on what Tessa had told her. When Tessa had invited Daphne over, selling out Lucian hadn’t seemed like such a big deal. Tessa liked him well enough, but she had no real personal stake in his career, and the people did have a right to know who they were electing. But now, knowing the full extent of Daphne’s machinations, Tessa realized the reporter likely wouldn’t have stopped there. Tessa could only hope that in refusing to help anymore, she’d protected Justin and his secrets.
Of course, that still meant Tessa herself had to reconcile the idea of Justin—who spoke out against religion both professionally and personally—being involved with it at a very deep and covert level. And yet . . . did it really change anything between them? Tessa herself clung to loose religious ideas, and he’d always said hers were harmless and she shouldn’t feel bad about holding onto them. If Justin wanted his own, she could accept that.
But as the day progressed and she waited for news of his return, one question continued to burn in her mind: if Justin wasn’t sharing his beliefs with her and the rest of the family, did that mean they weren’t so harmless?
CHAPTER 24
Longer Days
Once, on a campaign in an Asian province, Mae and some other praetorians had trekked across country for almost a week. They’d subsisted on barebones army rations, and without the need for sleep, they’d marched practically day and night. It had been one of the most taxing missions of Mae’s life, but as she began her third day of leading eleven girls and one woman through the Arcadian wilds, she was starting to look back on that Asian trip with new fondness and respect.
Mae knew it was wrong to hold the girls responsible for their group’s slow progress. Ordinary soldiers couldn’t have matched her pace, let alone civilian adults. To expect a group of sheltered children to keep up with a praetorian was ludicrous. Mae told herself that constantly, but the experience still proved challenging. And it wasn’t just because the girls were slower and weaker. Mae’s protective nature made her sympathetic to that. She wanted to help them because no one else ever had, and she was glad to do it. Her frustration mostly came from a sense of urgency and pressing danger. Even though the route they were taking bypassed most populated areas, they still always ran the risk of being spotted and reported. The Arcadian authorities could easily send ground troops and helicopters in, and all of Mae’s covert work would be for nothing. Would the authorities go to such extremes for a group of runaway girls? Possibly, especially since there’d been murder tied to their disappearance. Would the authorities go to such extremes for a soldier from an enemy country? Almost certainly.
And that was the question that ate at Mae during those long hours of traipsing across fields, of keeping watch while the girls slept. Today was the day the Gemmans would’ve returned home. Had they? Had Hannah gone undetected these last couple of days, and if so, had Justin gotten her into the RUNA? There was no reason for anyone to suspect Mae was responsible for the salon raid and therefore no reason for anyone to suspect Hannah had assumed her identity. The whole purpose of a Cloistered woman was to keep her out of sight. No one should have any reason to investigate her.
Guilt and worry still plagued Mae. She felt as though she’d abandoned her friends. She felt as though she’d abandoned Justin especially, not to mention sticking him with a lot of problems to patch up. If anyone was clever enough to fix the mess she’d left behind, it was him. She just wished she’d been able to give him more warning, particularly since he had his own mess with the Grand Disciple’s conspiracy.
He’ll take care of it all, she thought firmly. And hopefully afterward, he’ll forgive me.
He was on her mind a lot, and some of her musings about him were deeply personal, far removed from these political snares. She wished she’d been able to express her feelings more clearly to him before they parted and vowed to try when they saw each other again. That quiet promise drove her even harder, as did the constant knowledge that if she failed in this task, she’d not only end up in potentially lethal trouble herself but also implicate her country in hostile actions against Arcadia.
“Miss Mae?” Monica hurried up to her side as they walked through a barren field that looked like it had once grown corn. “Holly and Maria say they need a bathroom break.”
“Again?” exclaimed Mae. “We just stopped an hour ago.” Monica shrugged helplessly. “That’s what they say.”
Monica, Cecile, and a couple other girls had taken to Mae relatively quickly, appointing themselves her unofficial assistants. Interestingly, it was the girls in the middle ages, around ten or so, who were most eager to help her. Monica was the only older girl intrigued by what Mae offered. The others, having been programmed for too many years, were still too put off by Mae’s strangeness. The younger girls, including Ava, were a mix. Some were fascinated, some too cowed to stray from what they’d been taught. They all were used to responding to authority, however, which was what kept them going on this endeavor.
“Well, then,” said Mae. “They’re going to have to—” Her sharp ears picked up the faintest of buzzing sounds, and her implant surged to life. “Airplane! All of you—run to those trees, now!”
Several of the girls immediately complied, heading for the field’s edge at a hard pace. Some of the younger girls tried but couldn’t move that fast. Mae scooped up two of the smallest ones and took them most of the way, depositing them a close distance to the trees before heading back for other stragglers. One person, however, was making no attempt at hurrying her pace. Dawn, Pittsfield’s long suffering servant, strolled along as though she were walking casually through a park. Mae picked up a struggling Ava and then jogged over to Dawn after first ascertaining that the airplane—which was growing louder—wasn’t in sight yet.
“Move!” Mae yelled. “Run!”
Dawn regarded Mae with blank eyes. In the last couple of days, Dawn had tried to run away twice and had generally been difficult to manage. At first, Mae had thought she was mentally handicapped, but it was becoming clear that Dawn simply wanted a return to her old life. She was too shaped and beaten down by her world to embrace what Mae was offering, and running away from her masters with a woman went against every sense of natural order Dawn knew. Mae would have gladly left her behind, if not for the fact that her capture would prove too dangerous for the rest of them.
Juggling Ava with one arm, Mae pulled out her gun and pointed it at Dawn. “Move,” Mae repeated. For a moment, it seemed the other woman wouldn’t respond to that either, but there was familiarity in force apparently, and Dawn finally began a half-hearted jog. Their group made it to the tree line as the plane came into sight. Mae was relieved to see it wasn’t a military craft and didn’t circle back after passing overhead. They hadn’t been discovered.