The Immortal Crown

by Richelle Mead

  Justin chuckled. “Well, I’m also sure he’s got a team of makeup artists who can make him look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed through the worst hangovers.” Although his gaze was fixed on the window, Justin seemed to be looking at something much farther away. “Just hope he remembers his promise to get that Darius kid an internship. I honestly thought I wasn’t going to get that—or even get out of there last night— if I didn’t agree to his scheme.”

  “Darius’s scheme?” asked Mae, puzzled.

  “Lucian’s. He has this crazy idea that he can sway the polls by going off on some great ambassadorial trip to Arcadia to foster friendship between our countries.”

  It was enough to make her set the donut down. “I know praetorians fighting down on the borders in the south. I think we’re a long ways from true friendship. That could be a dangerous trip.”

  “Well, he won’t be in the border areas,” admitted Justin, “but I agree, it’s a risky thing for him to do. He thinks it’s worth it, though. Was going on about how there are no heroes anymore and politicians need to act, not just talk.”

  Mae resumed eating and kept her expression neutral because Justin was probably scrutinizing her reaction to those words. There was something particularly inspiring about them, and from what she’d learned about Lucian, he probably meant them. She’d grown to like him in their brief acquaintance, enough that she enjoyed spending time with him but not enough to want to pursue anything particularly intimate. No matter how sincere and passionate he was at times, it was hard to shake that “politician-y” air around him. That wasn’t Mae’s style, but she certainly wasn’t going to let Justin know, both because it was good for him to be in the dark about some things and because he occasionally encouraged her to spend time with Lucian—only to then seem annoyed if she did. She was still trying to figure that out.

  “What’s crazier still is that he wants us to come with him,” continued Justin. “He’s got all sorts of cultural experts—and praetorians—going along and thought we’d fit right in.”

  ”Judging from your tone, you refused the invite.”

  He snorted. “Of course. We’ve already got plenty of religion to wade through for SCI without getting wrapped up in that autocratic one. Besides, I really have no desire to spend any appreciable time in that backward place. No red velvet flags or wide-brimmed hats for me.”

  Mae stopped mid-bite. “Red velvet flags?”

  “The Girls Salons. You know they traffic in women, right?” Mae did. After being ravaged by Mephistopheles, Arcadia had suffered severely from fertility problems, a situation made worse by polygamy. Men desperate for wives went to extreme measures, often stealing children and women from other provinces. “The salons are the places that raise orphan girls. When they’ve got some girls ‘for sale’ that have reached puberty, they hang a red velvet flag outside their door.” Justin shook his head in disgust. “Fucking barbarians. Makes Panama look like the height of civilization. Oh, plenty of shady stuff went on there with women too, but at least it wasn’t a sanctioned part of mainstream society.”

  Mae, although no longer hungry, bit into another donut to hide her expression. Red velvet flag. The vision from last night came back to her, the cloak that had turned into a flag waving in the wind—and the young girl hidden underneath it. A sick feeling welled in Mae’s stomach. Was that what had become of her niece? She would only be eight by now, but did she have a future of being sold off as some Arcadian’s third wife? Emil, the Morrigan’s servant, had hinted about Arcadia, but Mae hadn’t truly focused on the reality of her niece being there. And Mae had certainly never thought she herself might have an opportunity to go there.

  “Maybe we should join him,” she said at last.

  Justin’s eyebrows rose, but she took no satisfaction in surprising him. “Looking for some extra time with Lucian?”

  “No,” she scoffed. “But our whole purpose is to seek out divine activity in the world. Arcadia’s got a strong religious presence. When are we ever going to get a chance to get in? And be so well-guarded?”

  “Ah, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re looking for a praetorian getaway, huh? Hoping to sneak some ree in for you and your buddies?”

  She held back from rolling her eyes. “Why do you assume there has to be a selfish motive?” she asked. “I’m just saying, if it’s something we should eventually look into, maybe we should take this opportunity.”

  Justin stood up and stifled a yawn. “You say that, but believe me, you wouldn’t like Arcadia. Independent, progressive women like you wouldn’t really fit in there.”

  “I think I know something about girls being forced into conservative roles,” she reminded him.

  “You know something about Gemman girls being forced into conservative roles. Maybe you had to wear a pink dress and study

  ‘ladies’ subjects,’ but no one could ever publicly—or privately—beat you with the government’s sanction. You can go to school. You can own property. You can vote. Believe me, Mae, we’re much better off not going there. Let Lucian make his daring stand. We’ll stick to our wild provinces.” He moved to the door and rested his hand on its knob. “I’m going to go check in with the illustrious Cornelia. You and your donuts going to stay here?”

  Mae nodded wordlessly, too stunned to think of any other response. As Justin shut the door behind him, the image of that red velvet flashed through her mind, and she wondered if she may have just let the door shut on any chance of finding her niece.

  CHAPTER 6

  No Living With Them

  Justin left Mae to her donuts and mulled over their conversation as he headed down the hall to Cornelia’s office.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she wanted to go to Arcadia, he mused.

  Worried she wants to spend time with Lucian? asked Horatio.

  Justin considered this a moment, analyzing both Mae’s reaction and his own insecurities. No. I don’t think so. There’s something else.

  Maybe she needs more danger and excitement, suggested Horatio. Justin was skeptical. We were attacked by a horde of beetles and witnessed a woman being possessed by supernatural forces. How could Mae possibly need more danger and excitement?

  She’s a Valkyrie, countered Magnus. She’ll always need more danger and excitement.

  Well, she’ll have to find it somewhere else, Justin told them.

  Because we aren’t going to Arcadia.

  “Justin.” Cornelia Kimora, head of SCI, opened the door to her office just as he was about to knock on it. “Excellent timing. Let’s talk about you going to Arcadia.”

  Justin froze, momentarily disoriented at the lack of transition between internal and external conversations. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Cornelia stepped to the side and gestured him in. “Senator Darling’s office has been in touch with us this morning about the trip. I initially declined, but they were very insistent. And once Director Kyle heard you were on board—”

  “I’m not,” exclaimed Justin. “I told Lucian no!”

  “Did you?” Cornelia arched an eyebrow. “I admit, I thought it odd that you were so supportive, but then one never can presume what you’ll—”

  “I’m not supportive! I’m not going.”

  She pursed her lips in thought, damnably calm, considering the outrageous nature of what they were discussing. “Well, there may be a problem, then, because arrangements have already been made for you and Praetorian Koskinen to accompany the delegation. There’s actually a briefing scheduled later today, and they’ll be announcing it all to the press this week.”

  Justin was unmoved. “Well, none of that’s happened yet, so there’s still time to fix this.”

  Cornelia fell into thought and absentmindedly tucked her orangey- red hair behind her ears. “Are you so sure this isn’t something you should do? We don’t know if . . . what’s happening here is happening in Arcadia as well. This might be our only chance to find out.” Even though she was the head of the departm
ent and oversaw Justin’s project, she still had difficulty giving voice to anything that lent credence to the supernatural.

  “I can respect that,” he said, through gritted teeth. Calm was key. This was Lucian’s fault, not Cornelia’s. “But I’d rather not do it when every single move is being scrutinized as part of some bigger political game I never asked to be a part of. How do you really expect me to get any efficient work done?”

  That, an appeal to Cornelia’s work ethic and pragmatism, got through. “Well, then, you’d best talk to Director Kyle immediately. He’s probably the only one who can stop this.”

  Justin was already moving toward the door. “Thanks. I’ll go upstairs now.”

  “He’s not there today,” she called after him. “He’s in his other office, in the Citizens building.”

  Justin stopped by his own office first, where he found Mae checking messages on her ego, with no donuts left. “I’m going across the square to find Francis Kyle. You won’t believe what’s fucking happened.”

  He gave her a brief recap. She listened to it all calmly, not appearing nearly as outraged as she should—but then, she allegedly wanted danger and excitement. In fact, when he moved to leave, she sprang up after him.

  “Justin, wait.” She came to stand by him at the door. “Think about this. It’s already in motion. There won’t be another chance to find out if the game has spread to Arcadia.”

  “We don’t know that it’s our only chance,” he said. “Maybe Lucian will wow them with his wit and charm so much that we’ll open all borders, and then you and I can go investigate with a lot less pressure riding on us.”

  “Is that what bothers you?” Mae asked, peering up into his eyes. “That Lucian got the better of you here?”

  “Lucian’s never gotten the better of me in his life. But yes, if you must know, I don’t like that he manipulated me and went behind my back. So now I’m going to undo it. Francis Kyle loves me. He’ll do whatever I want.”

  “Wait—” She caught Justin’s hand, and he halted more from surprise than any force of hers. “Justin—I . . .” Her remarkable blue- green eyes looked away for several moments and then met his with resolve. “I want to do this. I can’t explain it, but I want to. I need to. Please, let this go through. If not for our country—then, I don’t know. Do it as . . . as a personal favor to me.”

  Justin was dumbstruck. In their time together, many things had happened, but he couldn’t ever recall her asking for something for herself. As it was, she sometimes grew uncomfortable when he bought her coffee.

  “Why?” he demanded. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “It just is,” she said lamely. “I told you, I can’t explain it. Please.

  Please. Do this for me, and I’ll try to tell you one day.”

  While a number of memories from their night together still remained with him, one of the most powerful was a rare show of openness in Mae. Even then, when he’d barely known her, he’d gotten the sense that he was seeing something elusive, that this was a woman who kept herself well-guarded and rarely let down those walls to show others what was within. Now, unexpectedly, he was seeing it again, and it unnerved him. Sure, it was very different in feel than what he’d witnessed in the act of passion, but the power of it was still there. What surprised him the most was that it triggered a sense of unworthiness in him. Normally, he thrived on having power over others, on being able to hold knowledge or favors over them. Yet, now all he could wonder about was how a man like him deserved to have a woman like her open up to him.

  Why does she have this effect on me? he asked the ravens. Why am

  I even hesitating? This isn’t a small thing, like asking me to pick up dinner tonight.

  Maybe it’s more like organizing massive security for you and your family, suggested Horatio slyly.

  Justin considered. No. That’s big, yes, but getting her friends to pull shifts at my house still isn’t on the same level as being part of a highly public entourage that’s traipsing into a hostile country.

  You thrive on attention, argued Horatio. Why is the public spotlight a problem? And you’re probably safer with all that security there than you are here and on your regular assignments.

  Why are you so in favor of me going? Justin asked suspiciously. Is it because of your obsession with her? Or is this really that relevant to Odin’s interests?

  It was Magnus who answered. You make it sound as though there can only be one reason.

  Before Justin could ponder this further, Mae asked softly, “What are they saying?”

  He tuned back into her. That earlier anxiety was still written on her face, but there was also a small smile as she regarded him. “Hmm?”

  “The ravens,” she said. “I know that look you get when you’re talking to them.”

  “They . . . they want to go to Arcadia.”

  “Yeah?” She tilted her head, and though the smile broadened a little, her tension remained. “So are you going to be contrary just to spite them?”

  Good question, remarked Horatio. “I—”

  Justin was interrupted by a knock at the door. He opened it and found Cornelia, looking understandably surprised to find him and Mae both standing right there. “Director Kyle just came back to the building. If you hurry up to his office, you can catch him.”

  It was perhaps one of the more considerate things Cornelia had ever done for him, but Justin had no time to expound on her kindness. “I . . .” He glanced back at Mae, and although she’d transformed into tough praetorian mode for Cornelia’s benefit, he still thought he could see a glimpse of that lingering vulnerability. Filled with resolve, hoping he wasn’t being an idiot, he turned back to Cornelia.

  “We’re going to go. To Arcadia, that is.”

  Cornelia’s only visible sign of surprise was an arching of one orange eyebrow. “Well, then,” she said. “That will certainly save a lot of hassle.”

  “Or create some,” he muttered. “What time was that briefing?”

  ”Six,” she said. “In the senate—if you don’t change your mind again.”

  Justin ignored the snide tone and watched her walk away. A light touch on his shoulder made him look back at Mae. There was wonder in her face, wonder and disbelief and a gentleness that was almost as uncharacteristic as the earlier vulnerability—and even more disconcerting.

  Life is easier when she’s mad at me, he suddenly realized. “Justin,” she breathed. “Thank you. I—”

  He held up a hand and backed away from her. “Forget it. There’d be no living with you or the ravens. That, and I wouldn’t be surprised if SCI did eventually find a need to send us there someday. Better do it now under the comfort of Lucian’s banner.”

  Mae looked dumbfounded. “Then where . . . where are you going now?”

  “Gotta check on something. I’ll meet you back here in time for the briefing.”

  He ignored her protests about her coming with him for safety, assuring her that he wasn’t going far from Hale Square, which was swarming with federal security. It wasn’t his sense of safety that made him urge her to stay behind, however. The truth was, Justin wasn’t sure he could handle the face of her gratitude. He’d meant it: her anger was easier to deal with. He could stay strong against that. But a kinder, gentler Mae . . . one who was looking at him like that . . . well, that was too much. It was too great a reminder of what hung over him, that she was the woman Odin had picked out for him, one who held the key to his undoing.

  And Justin was honest enough with himself to know why he’d given into her Arcadia request: because despite all that had fallen out between him, there was still something about her that left him breathless and weak in the knees. He might run away from her regard . . . yet he hypocritically longed for it too. And that longing was strong enough that he’d agreed to the trip without extracting any other promises or badgering her about her reasons.

  The ravens’ reasons . . . well, that was something he needed to investigate.


  He had his ego out before he even reached the elevators. “Call Demetrius Devereaux.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Justin was in a café two blocks away, finishing a cup of coffee when his contact arrived. Demetrius Devereaux might be his legal name, but he called himself Geraki, a name that meant “Hawk,” and asked that others did as well. Justin had known him for years because the servitor’s office had been trying to implicate him as the leader of an illicit religious group. It was only in the last few months that Justin had finally gotten proof of Geraki’s allegiance and the god he served. The problem was that Justin could hardly tell the authorities, seeing as Justin occasionally served the same god now and obtained guidance—often in the form of cryptic messages—from Geraki.

  “Justin,” said Geraki cheerfully. “So glad you’re back. I always worry when you’re away, not that I should when you travel in such excellent company.” He pulled a bottle of water out of his backpack, some elitist brand with a label declaring it “all-natural,” not that water could be much else. Geraki maintained what he said was a pure state of living in order to hear the voice of Odin, abstaining from caffeine, alcohol, women, and pretty much anything else fun. “I knew you’d be back this time, though. I have a message for you. From our master.”

  Justin sighed and slouched into his chair. “I had a feeling you might. That’s why I called you.”

  Geraki tsked. “If you would just fully commit to our god, he would speak to you himself. You wouldn’t have to wait for me or your feathered intermediaries.”

  Justin glanced around the crowded coffee shop uneasily. “Don’t say that word.”

  “Feathered?”

  “You know which word. And I don’t want him talking to me directly. I have no desire to go through the rigors you do.”

  Geraki straightened up in his chair. “I’m a prophet. I not only hear his voice, I may call upon it—a privilege which is not given lightly. You, as a priest, don’t have such easy access, but he would speak to you in dreams if you’d only be more cooperative. Or, you could be gifted with some relic to facilitate communication.”