Draigen sighed. “They will argue to the ends of the world.”
“The fact remains, sister, you were attacked by one of our own, regardless whose subclan he was from,” Terryn said.
She poured herself a cup of tea from the service on the low table in front of her. “I was attacked by someone suborned. Aran is correct. Shifting politics make for uncertainties.”
“I apologize for my lack of depth on the subject, but are you saying the Inverni are not united in the effort to gain U.S. support?” Laura asked.
Terryn did not change his expression, but amusement flickered across Draigen’s face. She lowered her tea and rested her hands in her lap. “And she touches another family dispute.”
“Draigen did not want to meet with the president,” he said. “She was concerned it would appear as a weakness to solicit human aid.”
Vindicated apparently, Draigen smiled a small smile. “I acquiesced to my brother’s wishes on the condition I move quickly before political opposition at home solidified.”
“Is the opposition coming from within your own clans?” Laura asked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Terryn.
Draigen waited for him to continue. When he did not, she retrieved her tea and sipped. “The Inverni are a complicated people, Agent Tate. Clan strife defines us. Under the present circumstances, there are clans, such as the Alfreys, who feel that the Seelie Court has already declared war against us. There are also clans who feel the matter can be worked out diplomatically. I believe this trip has found ill favor among the former.”
“Aran’s people often align themselves with the Alfrey point of view,” Terryn said.
“The Seelie Court may be exploiting that,” Laura said.
Again, the small smile played on Draigen’s lips. “I never discount the hand of High Queen Maeve in matters involving our people.”
Terryn favored her with his own smile. “Times have changed, Draigen. This world is not ours. Maeve has done well opposing the Elvenking. That benefits all the Celtic fey.”
Draigen frowned. “The Elvenking rules a land while we huddle in pastures.”
Terryn shook his head. “Maeve chose the right alliances at the right time. What she did in the Treaty was what she thought she needed to do to protect all our people. She was wrong to do it. I believe she can change her mind.”
Draigen glanced down. “Then we must hope she does so quickly, brother, because while she fortifies her front door against the Elvenking, her kitchen garden may be overrun by her own subjects. We may not be able to stop it.”
He stood. “I will think on that as always, sister. You, too, need rest now.”
Laura stood as well. “I will continue to offer my services, Lady Regent.”
Draigen smiled up at her. “My younger brothers may suspect your talents, Agent Tate, but if Terryn has faith in you, so shall I.”
Laura followed Terryn into the hallway. Anxious and alert Inverni Guardians watched their every move. Brinen waited in the small elevator lobby and gestured at the Guardians nearby to move out of earshot. “Terryn, we need to talk.”
“I’m listening,” he said.
Brinen glanced at Laura. “Perhaps we can go to my rooms.”
Terryn pressed the elevator call button. “Speak freely, Brinen. I have appointments.” A pause followed while Brinen stared at Terryn. “I said speak freely, brother. Sendings are not necessary in front of Mariel.”
Brinen compressed his lips. “I am concerned, Terryn. This attack on Draigen exposes a rift in the clan that the Seelie Court will exploit.”
Terryn pursed his lips. “The Seelie Court exploits everything to its advantage. You know that.”
“I care less about that than the unity of our people, Terryn. They need a strong leader,” Brinen said.
“They have one, Brinen. I have faith in Draigen.”
“Do you have faith she will survive another attempt on her life, Terryn? Our people want their true underKing. While Draigen leads, they doubt her authority. While Draigen leads, brother, you leave open the door for the unwise to press their case for war.”
“And how does goading Aran prevent that, Brinen? You do no good pitting yourself against him.”
“I remind him that he and his people are watched, Terryn. I remind him, brother, that we will not allow them to lead us to our destruction,” Brinen said.
“We need to be united, Brinen. I would rather persuade Aran and his people to our way of thinking than order them,” said Terryn.
Brinen placed a firm hand on Terryn’s arm. “You may not have that luxury. Our sister could have been killed today. While you demand from abroad that she stand firm in your resolve, she must face the pressure at home. She may not break from you, Terryn, but she may not survive it. Can you live with that?”
Terryn didn’t answer right away. The pain of his brother’s words showed on his face. “We will find a way, Brinen. I will find a way.”
Brinen brought his face close to Terryn’s. “You are our leader, Terryn. Our people will follow you.”
“I will think on this, Brinen,” he said.
“That’s all I ask, as ever,” he said. Brinen released his arm. The two brothers faced each other. Laura didn’t think they were sending to each other but searching each other’s faces for some answer neither knew. Brinen bowed and left the lobby as the elevator arrived.
The elevator doors closed. The turmoil that Terryn projected made Laura uncomfortable. She wanted the calm, secure InterSec leader she had worked for all these years. This troubled Inverni was someone she didn’t recognize, and she didn’t know what to say. When they reached the InterSec floor, Terryn lingered outside the door, and she looked back at him. “Terryn?”
“What do you make of this?” he asked.
She considered. “Brinen doesn’t think Draigen can handle the situation.”
“Does he speak true?”
She paused. Asking her what she had sensed revealed a level of suspicion she hadn’t expected. “Are you saying you don’t trust him?”
Amused, Terryn grunted. “I trust my family to perform their duties. That’s not the same as telling me the truth.”
Laura took a steadying breath. “Brinen spoke true. He is worried.”
“He and I usually agree,” he said. “He has been my eyes and ears at court, and I value what he says.”
She tilted her head toward him. “Not that I don’t want you here, Terryn, but I’ve never understood why you made Draigen your regent and didn’t take the underKing title.”
His expression made it obvious that it wasn’t the first time someone asked him. “It was well-known that I wasn’t in favor of my father challenging Maeve. When he died at her hands, it would have looked like she paved the way for me to take the underKing title because I was less likely to defy her. At least, many of the Inverni would have seen it that way. Draigen, though, was as forceful as my father on the issue. I made her regent to keep the Inverni united when we lost our underKing. I’ve never regretted that decision, but now I wonder if things should change.”
She looked at her feet. “Are you considering leaving?”
He sighed, letting his gaze drift upward. “No. Not yet. Brinen has been advocating I take the crown for decades. I think he sees it as his role at this point. I wonder, though, if he truly believes I am putting Draigen in danger?”
Given the conversation, her first impulse was to say yes, but as she thought about it, Brinen’s words didn’t ring forcefully true. Her truth sensing often failed when someone spoke in hypothetical tones. Speakers didn’t necessarily need to believe in their fears when they were merely articulating them. “Terryn, honestly, I think you’re asking me to answer the question for you. To me, any high-profile figure is in danger by default. That’s how I look at the world because of my job. That doesn’t mean Draigen is in danger. I assume it’s a possibility, and maybe so does Brinen. The only real answer is what you think because only you can decide what you will d
o.”
He closed his eyes. “You’re right, of course. I think what Brinen means is that one way or another, I may have no choice but to return to Ireland.”
His words hung in the air. She didn’t want to see him leave, as much for herself as him, but she knew that decision could cost him far more than her. “What about Cress?”
“I will take her with me,” he said.
Despite the conviction in his voice, Laura sensed pain. Laura tried to imagine which choice she would make. Cress would not survive long among the Inverni if attitudes like Aran’s were any indication. If Terryn’s own family did not accept her, Laura didn’t believe anyone else would. Yet, if he left her behind, Cress would go mad with grief.
She didn’t see a solution.
CHAPTER 25
THE ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT on Draigen dominated the conversation at the Guild staff’s weekly meeting the following morning. Guildhouses focused on local issues, but a few—as those in Washington, Berlin, and Paris—had become key strategic locations to further the political agenda of High Queen Maeve. Her opposition to the Elvenking in Germany required constant attention—and constant reinforcement of alliances. A change in leadership of a major fairy clan caused more than one department to consider the political ramifications for the Seelie Court.
Laura shifted her folders on the table for the third or fourth time. Guildhouse staff meetings were like corporate meetings everywhere. Sometimes interesting, most times too long. Rhys ran an efficient meeting. He enjoyed being the center of attention, but he wasn’t a rambler. Despite that, the conversation had leaned on speculation more than anything else, and Laura wanted the meeting to end.
The assassination attempt had thrown the building into a high security alert, which restricted access to most outsiders. Laura counted herself lucky that she didn’t have outside clients who needed to allow extra time for clearance—if lucky meant her workload was limited to her public-relations duties in the building and her InterSec mission. Rhys was firing off press releases on a near-hourly basis addressing rumors of anti-Inverni bias at the Guild, failures in security that had almost killed Draigen, demands for more investigations into the terrorist attack at the National Archives, to say nothing of the seemingly random attacks against the fey around the city. Saffin helped Laura manage the changing priorities and ran interference as necessary. The weekly meeting was the last place Laura wanted to be.
Rhys made some final remarks about heightened security and his desire to protect the building staff. Laura wasn’t offended by the undercurrent of falsity that ran through his words. She knew he cared about the people who worked in the Guild, but he brought it up in the meeting to give the staff the impression he was actively working on their protection rather than relying on others to handle the nuts and bolts of the details. People in Rhys’s position dictated policy. They didn’t implement. She jotted down some notes. Some of what Rhys said could be used in more public announcements, too.
Rhys closed his loose-leaf notebook and adjourned the meeting. From her seat at the side of the room, Laura rose to let people pass. She adjusted the stack of folders in her arms when Rhys called her name. “A moment, if you please.”
She shifted past the exiting staff and sat next to him. While the room emptied, he checked his PDA. When the last person out of the room closed the door, Rhys placed the PDA on the table. “I need an internal memo, something nuanced but pointed.”
His manner intrigued her, cautious yet bemused. She lifted her pen, waiting for him to continue. “I’ve purged the leanansidhe from my Guildhouse.”
Anger surged through Laura. “What do you mean ‘purged’?”
Rhys arched an eyebrow. “Is that essence light I see in your eyes?”
She inhaled sharply, surprised that her emotion had broken through her normal control. She tamped down the essence, drawing it into the core of her being, and relaxed her grip on the chair. “I’m sorry, Guildmaster. The term took me off guard.”
Rhys’s face relaxed. “Ah, that. It was an ill-chosen word. For a moment, I thought you were going to raise an objection and defend the creature again.”
Laura dropped her eyes, not wanting to challenge him. Rhys rarely misspoke. After World War II, solitaries who collaborated with the Elvenking were interned in camps across Europe. Those who escaped found refuge in the U.S. They called it the Purge, and the rise of solitaries as a protected class in the U.S. began. “What’s happened?”
“I’ve barred it from the building. An investigation into its presence will be commencing shortly. I want a notice sent to all staff that this is an isolated instance until we can clarify the situation.”
“Where is she?” Laura asked.
“Who?”
She glanced at him sharply. “Cress. The leanansidhe.”
Rhys pursed his lips. “It apparently lives with Terryn macCullen of all people. I want that mentioned. They’ve agreed that the leanansidhe will submit to Guild authorities and remain under guard in the apartment until the legalities are straightened out.”
Kill two birds with one memo, she thought. Demonize Cress and smear an Inverni.
“This isn’t Faerie, Orrin,” she said.
At the use of his personal name, he cocked his head. “Do you have something to say, Laura?”
She hesitated. It was hard to know when to be frank with him and when to tread carefully. “I don’t know the full politics of the Inverni and Danann clan disputes, but I do know American attitudes. What plays well at the Seelie Court may backfire here. We need to maintain the Americans as our allies against the Elvenking.”
“Donor Elfenkonig has voiced his support of the Inverni cause. That is enough for our American friends to support us,” he replied.
“Support” was too strong a word. Laura had seen the news dispatches. The Elvenking had criticized the Treaty clause as archaic—ironic considering his preferences for old ways. He had not explicitly denounced the Seelie Court. “You know that’s posturing on his part, Orrin. I’m concerned about the solitaries as well. They will watch and worry about what Maeve does to a major segment of the fey population. Cress may be a leanansidhe, but the solitaries will view her as one of their own even if they fear her kind.”
Rhys folded his hands across his chest and leaned back in thought. By the sudden agitation in his wings, she knew she had made a sharp point. “I will bear that in mind. Thank you, Laura. Word will spread quickly about this. I would like a draft memo within the hour.”
“What about Resha?” she asked.
“What about him?”
“It might play better coming from him.”
Rhys chuckled. “I like that. He won’t, but I do. I’ll make the call personally.”
She hated herself for offering the idea. Putting Resha in a propaganda position against his own people felt worse, but she did hope it would help. He might find a way to present the news without its sounding like Cress was targeted first, investigated second. Solitaries were used to that order of events, and it didn’t sit well with them. “Is there anything else?”
“No.”
She stood. “I’ll write up a draft for Resha to work from that includes your talking points.”
Rhys called her when she reached the door. “Laura, I’m concerned you’re angry with me.”
“I’m concerned we’re putting too much pressure on the situation, Orrin, especially in light of the assassination attempt. People are emotional and upset. We’ve effectively put the fey on notice that any opposition to the Seelie Court will be met with heavy punitive action. Threatening to make the Inverni political prisoners and exiling a solitary because we’re afraid of what she might do as opposed to something she’s actually done can create an explosive situation. I don’t want us to be seen as encouraging that kind of behavior. That’s all,” she said.
“Sometimes forcing a situation relieves the pressure,” he said.
She offered him a troubled smile. “I hope so.”
As she
waited for the elevator, she did her best to control her breathing. Politics or not, Cress was her friend. So was Terryn. For the first time in a long time, the personal mattered to her more than protecting the Seelie Court and Maeve.
CHAPTER 26
TO COVER HER switch to the Mariel glamour, Laura had to return to the public-relations department, then to her private room, where she made the transition. She refrained from rushing through the accounting department. It was times like this that the necessary secrecy around her competing personas frustrated her. The constant changing of elevators and cutting through other departments to hide her tracks were time sinks she didn’t need.
Once through the security locks at the InterSec unit, she registered a jumble of body signatures in the main corridor. Some she recognized as other agents and staffers, but several were unknown. She stopped at Cress’s office. Why, she didn’t know, maybe to confirm what Rhys had said, maybe to pretend that she had misheard him. Cress kept her office neat and utilitarian, but now it felt more so than usual. Not a book or specimen jar or document was out of place, everything tidy. Cress wasn’t there and hadn’t been. Others had, though—more strange body signatures.
She strode down the hall to Terryn’s office, slowing at the sound of a woman’s voice she recognized. Genda Boone spun slowly in Terryn’s chair, a cell phone to her ear. She smiled and waved Laura in. Perplexed, she sank into the guest chair.
“No, Damine, it’s on the top of my dresser . . . Yes, the blue one. Send it down. I want to wear it this afternoon. Then call Jarnell and tell him I have five more people coming for dinner. No pork and no peppers . . . Yes, she’s in town. I have to go.” She disconnected.
She pulled the chair closer to the desk, her broad translucent wings flaring out to the sides. “I’m so glad you came in, Mariel. This is all so odd and sudden, and I haven’t had time to figure out who’s who and what’s what.”
Laura smiled diplomatically. “I’m a little confused myself. Where’s Terryn?”
Face Off lb-2 Page 15
