Age of X01 - Gameboard of the Gods

by Richelle Mead

  “And that doesn’t warrant a call?” The speaker was one of those older women who were described as “handsome.” Her dark blond hair was wound up into a high bun that showed a face with taut, smoothed skin that suggested a recent face-lift. She had a heavier brow than Mae and lacked the high cheekbones, but the woman’s eyes were the same shade of greenish blue that he’d come to admire.

  “I’m just busy, that’s all. This isn’t a good time.”

  “It’s never a good time, Maj.” The name sounded like “my” to Justin’s ears. “It hasn’t been for three years apparently.”

  “Mother, please. Now isn’t the time.” Justin knew Mae well enough now to recognize the signs of when she was fighting to keep control.

  “Are you working all night?” her mother asked insistently. “Surely you have to eat. Come over tonight, and I’ll gather your brother and sister. Bring your associates.” The woman’s eyes suddenly flicked to Justin, and he flinched. He thought he’d been standing out of the camera’s range. “Is that one of them?”

  Mae spun around in surprise, exasperation crossing her features. “Yes. Mother, this is Dr. Justin March. Justin, this is Astrid Koskinen.”

  With nowhere to escape, Justin stepped forward and went into action. “Mrs. Koskinen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I can see where Mae gets her stunning looks.”

  Astrid didn’t even blink. “Dr. March, do you and my daughter have dinner plans?”

  He faltered. “Well, I…” A glance at Mae told him what the correct answer to give was, but he was too slow.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Astrid triumphantly. “Both of you come over at seven.”

  “He’s a plebeian,” Mae said bluntly.

  “Yes, I can see that, Maj.”

  “And we have someone else with us.” Mae paused for what had to be dramatic impact. “A provincial.”

  Her mother wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Bring whoever you want, if that’s what it takes to get you here. Besides, you know how open-minded we are.”

  “No, I didn’t know that, actually.”

  “See you soon.” Astrid’s face disappeared, and Mae kicked the desk.

  “Goddamn it,” she growled.

  “I’m sorry,” said Justin. “I didn’t think fast enough to—”

  “No, no.” Mae waved off his protests. “It’s not you. It’s all her. And whatever friend she has around here who recognized me and tattled that I was in town. My ego’s set to automatically send her calls to voice mail, but she tricked me by going through the police.”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated. He actually meant it. Sure, there was some perverse part of him that wanted to see where she’d grown up, but after hearing her stories on Saturday, he didn’t want to subject Mae to a return to that place. “Maybe we can get out of it. Say something came up.”

  She sighed. “No. That’ll make things worse. I’m just going to have to suck this up.” She walked out of the office with a forlorn look on her face, though she paused to give Justin a humorless smile. “On the bright side, if there’s anything about me you don’t know yet, it’ll probably come out tonight.”

  He gave her a small smile in return, little knowing how true her words would be.

  CHAPTER 27

  KOSKINEN DECORUM

  They had to hire a car. Her mother lived outside of the city, and no public transportation ran out to it. Mae looked like she was going to her own funeral as they sped by the wheat and corn fields, which were green and growing now that spring had moved in. The castes had been founded by families who already had personal fortunes that could help the fledgling republic, fortunes they used to buy themselves out of the mandates. Over time, those families had ended up turning to enterprises that were suited to their land, such as the expansive growing of crops that fed the RUNA. Dark clouds gathering above the fields threatened a storm, which Mae remarked was fitting.

  At first glance, the Koskinen house seemed as though it had ridden the success of Nordic farming. The estate—because there was no other word for it—was like something out of a movie. A huge pillared porch with etched-glass double doors welcomed guests with grandeur and intimidation. Identical wings extended from each side of the entrance, beautiful in their symmetry. The house had two floors, and the second one had balconies extending from many of its rooms. There were even a couple of turrets. It was set on sprawling grounds, some of which were obviously just for show and not practical use. Looking beyond the house, Justin could see vast fields dedicated to farming. There the symmetry ended. Half the land showed that green haze of new growth. The other half was bare and neglected.

  Walking toward the house told more tales. The tan paint was worn and chipped. Bushes and hedges were messy and overgrown, while weeds poked through the flower beds. It was all subtle. The house wasn’t in ruins, but it definitely showed signs of disrepair.

  A plebeian woman wearing a black uniform let them in, murmuring a deferential, “Miss Mae.”

  Mae smiled and gave her a small hug as they entered, something that seemed to embarrass the other woman. “Hello, Phyllis.”

  The central part of the house was the tallest, and the foyer took full advantage of that. A huge chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, and Justin counted seven tiers of crystals. He also noticed that some of the lights had burned out. Dusty art displaying Norse knot work adorned the walls. To the side of the room, a spiral staircase with a wrought-iron railing stretched up to the second floor. Within moments of their entry, Astrid Koskinen descended the stairs with a showy, measured stride that made him think she’d been hovering at the top, waiting to make this grand entrance.

  “Maj,” she said, pausing to kiss Mae on each cheek. “How lovely to see you.”

  There was no warmth in the greeting or in Mae’s answering one. “Mother, this is Dr. Justin March and Tessa Cruz.”

  At a glance, Justin knew this was no time for, “Mother? Really? I would’ve guessed sister.” He opted for pleasant—but not too pleasant—formality. “Mrs. Koskinen, thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Tessa, a bit cowed by this introduction to the castal aristocracy.

  Astrid frowned. “Could you repeat that?”

  “I said ‘thank you,’” repeated Tessa more loudly.

  “Ah. Well, I could hardly turn down the opportunity to host Maj.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble,” said Mae.

  “Come,” said Astrid, ignoring her. “Everyone’s seated for dinner. Normally we eat at seven.” There was an accusatory note in her voice. An old-fashioned grandfather clock proclaimed that it was 7:10. “Thank you for dressing up, Dr. March, Miss Cruz.”

  She was absolutely serious, the unspoken message being that Mae had not dressed up. He’d worn a navy suit and silk tie, typical for official visits, and Tessa had impulsively put on a dress purchased on her outing today. Meanwhile, Mae was in black slacks and a green tank top. It was elegant and refined, like everything else she wore, but he supposed it might have been considered casual next to Astrid’s calf-length taffeta dress. Though he scoffed at Cynthia’s “label whore” accusations, Justin had made a quick study of the fashion trends he’d missed in exile. It was a leftover habit from when he was younger and had tried to hide his lower-class background. Mae was at the height of style, as always, even when casual. Her mother’s dress was from last year. A small detail, but notable among castals.

  He wasn’t entirely sure who “everyone” was. Astrid led them to a dining room with heavy wainscoting and wallpaper adorned with a swirling blue design. Two women and two men sat at a long table, along with a boy a little older than Quentin. All had the blond hair and blue or green eyes typical of their caste. Erratic signs of Cain marked the group, and Mae stood out from them like some star in a cloudy sky. If not for scattered shared features, Justin wouldn’t have guessed they were related.

  Introductions named the other guests as Mae’s siblings and their spouses. The boy, Mae’s n
ephew, went by his Nordic name, Niklis. Aside from Mae’s mother, everyone else used a Latin or Greek name from the National Registry, which was telling. It suggested they were more progressive. Maybe they were, but one thing soon became clear: They hated Mae.

  Maybe “hated” was too strong. “Resented” might have been more accurate.

  It wasn’t so obvious at first. Everyone was so, so polite. A written transcript would have shown nothing untoward, but listening to it in person was a different matter. Every comment contained a barb for Mae and occasionally Justin and Tessa as well.

  “Well, Mae,” said her sister, Claudia. “It was nice of you to come by. I know Mom appreciates it. I know she especially appreciates you bringing your friends.” She peered over at Tessa as the housekeeper set down chipped bowls of yellow pea soup. “Do you guys use silverware in the provinces?”

  “Of course they do,” said Mae, the outrageous question breaking even her composure. “For goodness’ sake, Claudia. She’s from Central America.”

  Claudia sniffed at the rebuke. “Well, it’s not like I have that much time to study the provinces.” She fixed her attention on Justin and gave what he suspected was meant to be a seductive smile. “So, Dr. March. What do you and my little sister do together exactly?”

  Cyrus and Claudia’s husband snorted in amusement. Astrid blanched. “Claudia!”

  “What?” asked Claudia innocently. “I want to know about their work.” She fluttered her eyes at Justin. “A servitor’s life must be fascinating.”

  She’s so bitter and jealous of Mae that she can barely sit there, Justin observed.

  Can’t you see why? asked Horatio.

  Justin could. Claudia was short and dumpy, with none of the beauty and grace of her younger sister. Cain had dulled Claudia’s hair, and judging from the family’s finances, she wasn’t able to afford any treatments. That, and she had the drained look of someone who’d never left her hometown and had little to occupy her time. From the sharp looks she also gave her nephew, Mae wasn’t the only sibling Claudia envied.

  She’s jealous of you too, said Horatio. You’re unsuitable by their standards, but you represent another thing Mae has that she doesn’t: dashing, exotic, good-looking.

  Are you trying to take me home? Justin asked.

  You know what I mean. And look who she’s with.

  Justin couldn’t fault that logic either. Claudia’s husband was a lump of a man, with a thick jaw and soup running down his chin. He mostly communicated through grunts. A lowly plebeian might have been preferable to that. In fact, recalling Mae’s story, Claudia did have a thing for plebeians. With her airs, it wasn’t that hard to imagine her giving away a baby to save face. It especially wasn’t hard to imagine Astrid encouraging it.

  “My job’s not that interesting,” said Justin, fully in public relations mode. “Mae just comes along to make sure no zealots get out of line. She keeps me safe. You never know what they’ll do.”

  Mae’s eyes rested on him briefly, and Justin realized she was mentally assigning him to the zealot category.

  Niklis brightened at Justin’s words. “Aunt Maj, do you have a gun?”

  “Of course she doesn’t,” answered Astrid. “Maj would never bring a gun into this house.”

  “I have two,” Mae told her nephew.

  Astrid gasped. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “Because I’m on duty, Mother.” Mae had simply been stirring her soup and now pushed it away. Her face had on that emotionless mask she excelled at maintaining.

  “More exciting than being Kris Eriksson’s wife, I suppose,” said Cyrus. He wasn’t exactly antagonistic toward Mae, but he definitely had a mocking attitude. It was one he dealt out to his entire family, so at least he was fair. He topped everyone’s wine off without asking. “Mae ever tell you about all the proposals she turned down? She could’ve made this family’s fortune.”

  “Mae’s always done what she wanted,” grumbled Claudia. “Gone where she wanted. Run around with who she wanted.” She gave Justin and Tessa supercilious looks as she spoke.

  That, more than anything else, cracked Mae’s tough exterior. She snapped some sharp Finnish retort to her sister, earning snickers from Cyrus and his wife, who seemed to think this was dinner theater. Claudia responded with something that must’ve been equally venomous, judging from Astrid’s scandalized expression.

  “Show some manners!” she scolded. “Our guests are more civil than you are.” The subtext, of course, was that it was a huge embarrassment to be shown up by a plebeian and a provincial. “Remember that our family is built on principle and decorum.”

  Awkward silence fell. Mae’s face became blank once more. Claudia glowered, and Cyrus kept pouring more wine than even Justin could drink. Glancing over at Tessa, he saw that the girl looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here. He couldn’t blame her. Surprisingly, it was Claudia’s dull husband who resumed some sort of civil discourse.

  “So,” he said. “Did you hear that the Comets made it to the playoffs?”

  Justin didn’t care much for sports, but he’d learned long ago that other people did, making it an excellent topic to build rapport with. So, he kept up with all the latest headlines, something that came in handy now as he engaged the men in conversation. They warmed up to the subject and seemed to forget they were talking to a plebeian. The Koskinen women, however, remained quiet and sullen.

  When dinner mercifully ended an hour and a half later, Mae offered to show Justin and Tessa around the house.

  “Remember that this house isn’t a museum,” her mother warned her.

  “Yes, yes,” said Mae. “We’ll stay out of your bedrooms.”

  Maybe the house wasn’t a museum, but it was certainly dusty enough to be an artifact. Justin had always hired cleaners to do his housework but was on the verge of asking for a broom to lend a hand now. He found out that the family had once employed a large staff to maintain the house, though their numbers had dwindled as the Koskinen finances did.

  “What happened to your family’s money?” asked Justin as Mae paused in front of the doorway to what looked like a cluttered office. A moment later, she kept going and showed them into a conservatory that could’ve been straight out of an old movie. He’d asked her a personal question, but Mae seemed too preoccupied with her own thoughts to reprimand him for it. That, or maybe she’d just accepted there were few secrets between them now.

  “I don’t know. I think my mother just mismanaged it after my dad died.”

  Mae ran her hand along the top of a piano, her fingertips leaving trails in the dust. Justin had a sudden and startling memory of that night in Panama when Mae, wet and bedraggled but still dazzling, had sat down and played Saint-Saëns. It certainly wasn’t an erotic image, but it triggered a reminder of that initial, burning attraction, when he’d looked at her and thought she was the most amazing woman in the world.

  She still is, said Magnus loyally. You could have her, and your world would change.

  Justin felt a pain in his heart and made no response.

  Tessa joined Mae at the piano. “This is pretty. Nicer than ours.” Tessa played a few lines of something Justin didn’t know, reminding him that she too had taken lessons. He supposed it was something upper-class young ladies did.

  “Where did you learn to play?” asked Claudia incredulously, standing in the doorway.

  Tessa took her hands back. “At my house.”

  Claudia’s face said she couldn’t have been more surprised if a cat had learned to play. “Mae, Marius and I are leaving.”

  Something in Mae’s face sharpened. “I’ll walk you out. And I’ll show you guys my room.” She led Justin and Tessa down the hall and pointed to a doorway at the top of the stairs. “Right there. Probably hasn’t changed since I left. I’ll be there as soon as I talk to Claudia.”

  Justin was astute enough to pick up that there was more than a good-bye involved, but he left Mae to her own affairs. Besides, he quickly be
came consumed by her old bedroom. It was another piece of her to collect. Like every other room, dust reigned. The décor was a mix of the two worlds that had always pulled on Mae. All the furniture was ornate and expensive, the kind of stuff a mother would pick out, not a child or teen. The partially ajar closet was filled with old evening gowns that made Tessa ooh and ahh. Juxtaposed with that glamour were old poster screens that, when turned on, displayed images of various athletes and teams. He even found what must have been a canne stick leaning against a corner. He really needed to look that crazy sport up.

  Tessa found an open jewelry box on the dresser and couldn’t resist the curiosity of looking through it. “Wow.” She lifted a bracelet encrusted in sapphires that still glittered. “Mae left so much behind.”

  “You see any engagement rings in there?” he asked. He smiled at Tessa’s startled look. “Never mind.”

  “They’re awfully mean to her, though. I guess I’d abandon a lot to get out of here too.” She swapped the bracelet for a pearl choker. “Did she leave in a hurry?”

  “How would I know?” he asked lightly.

  Tessa glanced away from her treasures, giving him a wry look. “How could you not know? You used to watch her with this look…it was hungry. Like you were going to die if you didn’t get inside her head.”

  “Used to?” he asked.

  She shrugged and returned to the jewelry box. “You’re still alive. I figured you must know everything now.”

  Justin laughed in spite of himself. “You know, if I’d realized back in Panama that you’d—” He stopped speaking when he saw her next find. “What is that?”

  Tessa lifted a silver necklace with a large pendant hanging on it. The pendant consisted of elaborate silver knot work shaped into a bird. “It’s pretty,” she said. “Looks like a raven.”

  It’s a crow! exclaimed Horatio indignantly. Can’t she tell the difference? Some prodigy.

  Crows are stupid, said Magnus. I hate crows.

  “It’s a crow,” Justin told Tessa, stepping closer.