by W. J. May
Rae followed his gaze with an increasing sense of frustration.
How was it that these men—all men, by the way, no women—who had come so far, were willing to throw it all away based upon nothing but pride? How could the very people in charge of the inked community’s wellbeing allow themselves to be governed by such a ridiculous grudge?
With a deep breath, she reined in her emotions and tried to come up with a diplomatic response. Carter had taught her that much, at least. “I understand that a partnership with the Knights was never an easy decision for this Council to make, and it certainly didn’t come about in a conventional way.”
It certainly didn’t. In fact, it took the assassination of the last sitting president to convince the Council that they were stronger united than alone. (A series of events that Rae was hoping very much to avoid this time around, given that she happened to be the sitting president now.)
“But surely you understand the need to continue such an alliance.” She looked around with feeling, speaking as persuasively as she could. “Cromfield may have posed an out and out threat, raised a literal army against us, but Samantha Neilson is no less volatile. If anything, she’s less practiced, less patient, and more likely to surrender herself to rash acts of violence. You’ve already seen it for yourself at the trial.”
A collective shudder ran through the room as a dozen pairs of eyes fixed sullenly on the table. Rae wasn’t sure what upset them more: The fact that every single one of them had been bested on their own home turf, or the fact that it was a young girl who had bested them.
“The point is,” she continued passionately, “now is not the time to let the alliance lapse and try to fight this new threat on our own. Now is the time to strengthen those friendships.”
The buzz of hushed conversations swept suddenly through the room as the people seated around the table turned to each other in silent, hurried discussion. It was encouraging that they were at least considering it but, looking around, Rae couldn’t help but think that politics governed the room. As opposed to common sense.
The wave of talking quieted as quickly as it had come about, and when Mr. Malcom leaned forward again to speak she could have predicted what he would say to the letter.
“While you make several good points, Madame President, I’m afraid that the question has already been both raised and settled in your absence. The Council has already voted to disband the alliance, and unless another vote is held to overturn it I’m afraid our hands are tied.”
Rae blinked. Wondering at a world in which a girl who would rather be in London, bar-hopping with her friends, had a better grasp on the ethical dilemmas facing the government than he did. “And if I call for such a vote?”
There was another tittering around the table as Malcom literally clasped his hands together in a theatrical apology. “Oh, I’m afraid that would be impossible. We’re currently short four members, and according to the PC’s bylines, in order to hold a vote we need a full roster.”
“How convenient,” she said dryly. “And by a full roster you mean that you don’t need the president of the PC available to vote the first time? I thi—”
“At any rate,” he continued quickly, “it’s unlikely that the Knights would be any more amenable at this point than we are ourselves, given their feelings about the school.”
“The school?” Rae turned questioningly to Keene. “What about the school?”
He sighed quietly, and seemed to age another ten years right in front of her eyes. “At our final joint meeting, Commander Fodder brought an issue before the Council involving the opening of Guilder Boarding School to every adolescent gifted with ink, regardless of their family’s previous history with the school. He seemed to believe that a tatù alone should be enough to gain admission, and that if we were uniting our two governments it would make sense that our children be permitted to attend the same school.”
It certainly would make sense. In fact, Rae was shocked to discover that Guilder had any qualifications to bar admission in the first place. And where did she fit in with all that? Her family might not have splintered off in rebellion, as had most of the Knights, but her father was a notorious serial killer. What made her eligible to attend Guilder, and not someone like Luke?
“And let me guess.” She did her best to keep her frustration under control. “That idea got voted down as well?”
A chorus of explanations and denials rang back from every corner of the room, and she slumped further in her chair. In no time at all the conversations picked up speed and volume, and she let her mind wander, tracing absentminded shapes upon the table as she wondered what her friends were up to. They were probably in London by now, unpacking the first of the boxes in the new house. No doubt Champagne and merriment were soon to follow…
“President Kerrigan?”
Rae’s head snapped up, and she stared across the table with a flush of guilt. “Yes? I’m sorry, what was that?”
Louis Keene’s lips twitched up in a secret smile as he helpfully cocked his head towards the door. A messenger had just walked inside. A telepath who doubled as the London palace liaison.
“Branson,” Rae greeted him in surprise. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“I wasn’t expecting to come, Madame President,” he said respectfully, nodding a polite greeting to the men in the room. This kind of intrusion was most irregular, and he didn’t want to step on any toes. “And I apologize for the timing. The thing is, I’ve just come from a meeting with the future king and queen, with a rather urgent request.”
There was another burst of hushed conversation as Rae leaned forward with a frown. She and Devon had recently grown quite fond of the royal couple. In fact, they were some of the first people they told of their engagement.
“Is it Sarah?” she asked with concern. “Is everything alright—”
“Everything’s more than alright.” Branson fought back a smile. “It seems as though they’ve set a date for the wedding. And it’s much sooner than we expected.”
Rae relaxed back into her chair, unable to keep the relief off her face. She might be the president now, but it didn’t mean that all those ties she’d made as an agent would just go away.
“Oh? Well that’s…that’s wonderful.”
Wonderful, but slightly irrelevant. Why would they send Branson with the news?
She caught Keene’s eye with a question, and he swept in for the rescue.
“When the two of them first got engaged, the palace issued a formal request that the Privy Council provide additional security on the day of the wedding. We naturally agreed.”
A man sitting beside him chuckled good-naturedly. “Rather ironic, in fact…”
Rae glanced between them in confusion. “What’s ironic?”
Keene gave the man an indulgent smile before turning back to Rae. “At the time, it was unofficially assumed that you and Mr. Wardell would be sent in to provide said security. Given your previous undercover assignment with the couple, and the fact that the four of you have built up a sort of rapport.”
Rapport was understating it, given that the last time the four of them spent any time together Devon and Prince Phillip got into a drag race on the front lawn. By now, it was safe to say the two young couples had officially crossed that professional line into friendship.
“I see.” A part of Rae ached just saying the words. Just imagining someone else being assigned to go in her place. One of the worst parts of being foisted into the role of president was that she no longer was able to operate as an agent. The very job she’d spent all these years training for. As dangerous and unpredictable as it could be, she missed it with all her heart. “Well…why couldn’t the two of us still go?” she asked suddenly. “Surely between the two of us we could manage, and you said it yourself: there’s no one better suited.”
The room went dead quiet, and Keene shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Outside in the hall, Rae could practically see Mitchell Ford, her head of security,
chafe against the idea.
“Rae,” Keene said quietly, “we’ve talked about this. As president of this Council, you are simply too valuable to put in harm’s way—”
“As opposed to how expendable the rest of the agents and I were before?” she quipped evenly. He bowed his head in defeat as she stared around the table. “But Mr. Keene makes a very good point. I am the president of this Council. And as such, I will be assuming responsibility for the safety of the royal couple. Mr. Wardell and I will provide security at the wedding.”
A surge of excitement swelled up inside her, but she kept her face carefully clear of emotion and said the words with a flat inflection that invited no further discussion. They might make her sit in these insufferable meetings week after week, but they couldn’t take away all her fun.
“So, if that concludes our business…” She pushed briskly to her feet, eager to end the meeting before anyone could rally against the idea. But no sooner had she stood than Keene held up a halting hand.
“Actually, there is one more matter we need to discuss.”
Her heart sank, and she slid back into her chair with a silent sigh. “And what’s that?”
Their eyes met, and he grimaced apologetically.
“Your father.”
* * *
By the time Rae pulled up to the house that evening, the sun had already begun to sink low in the sky. Her head was spinning a million miles a minute, and she was firmly convinced that her back was imprinted with the unyielding metal slats of her chair.
But the weighted responsibility and stress seemed to melt away with each passing second as she paid the driver and headed up the walkway into the house. Rays of light and the distant sound of laughter leaked through the windows, and she felt her heart literally lightening with every step.
“Honey, I’m home!” she called as she peeked her head through the door. The smells of pizza, beer, and fresh paint greeted her, and she slipped inside with an anticipatory grin.
No sooner had she gone three steps than Devon blurred to a stop right in front of her. He waited only a second to let her catch her breath before scooping her up in his arms. “I missed you.” He kissed her squarely on the mouth before leaning back with a smile. “I also unpacked most of the boxes, so there’s not a thing in the world you need to do except help yourself to some dinner. We ordered in.”
“We?” Rae kicked off her shoes as her feet dangled in the air. “Who’s we?”
“Funny you should ask…” He didn’t put her down. Instead, he simply carried her into the living room where half a dozen faces looked up in a welcome greeting. “I think someone had a little separation anxiety,” he said in a loud whisper, gesturing to where Molly and Luke sat intertwined upon the sofa. “They showed up almost as soon as you left.”
“It’s not separation anxiety,” Luke retorted with a grin. “We have a deal.”
“You help us move into our house, then we help you move into yours,” Julian repeated with a teasing smile. “And was there a reason we couldn’t all just move into our own?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I am pregnant.” Molly threw a couch cushion at him. “I can’t lift anything heavy, and you can’t expect Luke to unpack all my things on his own.”
Julian’s eyes twinkled as he caught the pillow mid-flip. “Certainly not. Why would I expect your boyfriend to unpack your things, when you’ve been forcing me to do it for the last five years?”
She nodded stoutly.
“That’s the spirit.”
Devon turned his back on them and swung Rae lightly back and forth, clearly tickled to death with the domesticity of the entire scene. “I feel like I’m reading from the script of a sitcom.” He flashed her a dimpled grin before continuing on in an affected lilt. “How was work, darling?”
Rae’s eyes cooled for a moment as she slipped to the floor.
“Oh you know…terrible.” His brow furrowed in concern, but she simply shook her head and grabbed a slice of pizza. “I’ll tell you about it later. The only thing you do have to know is that you and I are going to a wedding in a few weeks. And I could not be more thrilled.”
His phone buzzed in his jacket, but he ignored it and settled beside her on the couch. “Whose wedding?”
Her eyes sparkled teasingly as she took a bite. “Well, the rest of the world might know him as the Crown Prince, but I’ll always think of him as that guy who beat you in a car race—”
“The royal wedding?” Molly interrupted excitedly. “You’re going to that?”
“As friends, or as security?” Devon asked.
“A little of both.” Rae washed down the pizza with a swig of beer. She grimaced when she realized it was cider. Never again. Horrible stuff. “And the Council was none too pleased that we’re going, let me tell you. I thought Mitch Ford was going to have a coronary right out there in the hall.”
Luke laughed quietly, doing his best to contain Molly’s instant enthusiasm. “Well, you can hardly blame them; you’re the president now, Rae. To be honest, I’m surprised that they’re letting you go out on a mission at all.”
She tossed a piece of pepperoni at his face. “Whose side are you on?”
“It is surprising,” Devon reasserted practically. His phone went off again, and he placed it on automatic mute. “What did Keene have to say about it?”
“Who cares? The decision’s already been made.” Rae reached into his jacket pocket and playfully whipped out his phone. “Now, who keeps calling you? You’ve been dodging calls for the last three days.”
He snatched it back with a burst of supernatural speed, slipping it back into his pocket. “Nobody. Wrong number.”
Rae raised her eyebrows, surprised that he would feel the need to lie. Suddenly, her passing curiosity escalated into something far more. “Wrong number?” she repeated in blatant disbelief.
Julian flashed him a wicked smile. “Dev, now might be a good time to tell Rae about the mistress you’ve been keeping.”
“That’s it,” Devon grinned sarcastically, “my mistress.” His eyes lit with sudden mischief as he pulled Rae’s legs across his own. “Actually, I did meet a girl a few days ago in London. Believe it or not, I actually invited her to stay over…”
“Is that right?” All Rae’s questions went sailing out the window as she set down her pizza and leaned in for a kiss, ignoring Angel’s look of disgust all the while. “So this girl…what did she look like? She sounds like the breathtakingly stunning sort—”
“Wait a second!” Molly exclaimed, staring between them with eyes as wide as saucers. “You guys had sex?”
Rae blushed as Devon rolled his eyes.
“That happens sometimes, Molls. Get over it.”
But for once, her astonishment wasn’t limited to her alone.
“You thought Rae was a delusional, trespassing stalker,” Julian said slowly, looking at his friend with great concern, “and you had sex with her?”
“Guys,” Rae piped up, “I’m sitting right here.”
“Yeah, but Devon didn’t know that!” Molly gushed. Her eyes lit up as she leaned back into Luke, looking very impressed. “Who would have thought Wardell has a bit of a wild side?”
“And that,” Gabriel set down his beer, “is my cue to go.”
“Are you sure?” A look of teasing triumph flickered across Devon’s face as he gave Rae a smug little squeeze. “Me and my fiancée. Come on. I’d love to talk about it.”
Rae pinched him in the side, but Gabriel only chuckled.
“Actually, I have a girl of my own coming over tonight. Don’t want to be late.” He pushed gracefully to his feet and slipped on his jacket. “But feel free to call anytime. I’d be happy to give you some pointers.”
He swept out the door as Devon turned back to the party with a begrudging grin. “Bastard.”
“Actually, it’s good that he left.” Molly swiveled around on the couch, suddenly business-like. “It gives Luke and me the chance to have our weekly fi
ght.”
The others glanced over in surprise as Luke sank an inch lower on the cushions. “Honey, not now—”
“Luke,” Molly continued, fully ignoring him, “is trying to ruin my life. He’s firmly convinced that he doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby beforehand.”
Julian and Devon shot him looks of helpless sympathy, while Rae and Angel leaned forward with sudden interest.
“Wait…you don’t want to know until the baby is actually born?” Angel asked in surprise. “I thought you just didn’t want to find out supernaturally by asking Jules.”
Luke sank lower still, dropping his eyes to the floor. “I want to be surprised,” he muttered.
“What?” Rae shrieked in delight. Behind her, Molly folded her arms across her chest and began nodding with a little smirk. “That’s CRAZY! Who wouldn’t want to know?”
Devon shifted uneasily on the couch, avoiding his fiancée’s eyes. “…I might want to be surprised.”
Rae slowly rotated around, gawking at him in open-mouthed shock. “You have to be kidding me.”
Julian picked up his beer with a little grin. “Never a dull moment in London!”
Chapter 7
Rae got up early the next morning. The lively dinner conversation had gone on late into the night, and she and Devon had carried on even further than that. He was still passed out cold when she slipped out from beneath the covers. She was half-tempted to cuddle up next to him and maybe sleep for a few more hours, but she actually had a rather specific task that morning. And as fate would have it, Devon couldn’t be anywhere in sight.
“Sweet dreams, love,” she whispered as she kissed him on the forehead. She slipped out into the hall, conjuring herself some clothes. The clothes were simple. The kind of outfit Molly would have hated, but Rae found herself trending towards whenever she was alone. Faded jeans with a warm knit sweater exactly the color of her deep blue eyes. Riding boots and a long trench coat completed the look. In the bathroom, just a touch of makeup and a ponytail later, she was ready to go.
