“Who are you?” Daphne asked.
“He’s with me,” said Tessa. “My, uh, bodyguard. Rufus.”
Daphne looked more impatient than anything else. “Fine. The more the merrier. Let’s go.”
“But I don’t know who you are!” exclaimed Tessa.
“I told you, I’m Daphne Lang.” Daphne darted a quick glance at a still-wary Rufus, but if her name sparked any recognition with him, he didn’t show it. She sighed. “Look, do you want an internship or not? I didn’t come all the way down here for the hell of it. I figured a kid like you at a school like this was serious.”
“I . . .” Tessa faltered. “I am, but I never asked for an internship was just supposed to shadow someone.”
Daphne shook her head. “No half-ass shadowing with me. You want to learn the reporter business? You’re doing the full deal. You come down to my office, you go out on assignments with me, run errands, help do research. All of it. If I approve you, that is. That’s what today is about. I need to get to know you, figure out what you’re like and where you come from. Not just anyone can work for North Prime.” North Prime? Actually, from what Tessa had learned in her inundation with Gemman media, anyone could work for North Prime. The entertainment portion of the RUNA’s media stream contained a vast selection of channels with both on-demand and live programming. Mixed in with that were myriad news options, some more reputable than others. The more prestigious ones had regular journalists who were celebrities in their own rights. Other media news channels—like North Prime—were built on sensationalism and allowed freelance journalists to file stories with them on a first-come, first-serve basis. Tessa had only watched a little of their programming but suspected she could upload a video to them herself and probably have it accepted.
Darius clutched Tessa’s arm, earning a warning look from Rufus. “Tessa, this is amazing! It’s even more than you asked for. You should totally do it.” She wondered if he simply appreciated any educational opportunity or just had poor taste in news. Before she could respond, he added, “You’ll get a pass now to be out of school.”
She slowly turned to him. “What?”
“Didn’t they explain it?” he asked. “If you’ve got a full internship, you don’t have to be here during prescribed hours. You’ve still got to show proof you’re up on your independent projects—this’ll sub in for one—and your tests, but they figure the real world experience trumps their schedule.”
Tessa regarded Daphne with new appreciation. Was it possible that this garishly dressed woman might offer even more freedom than the Institute’s freeform policies already did? Rufus cleared his throat loudly, interrupting her thoughts.
“I don’t want to trample anyone’s dreams here, but do we have any proof of who you are?” he asked. “And I don’t mean just looking up whatever fluff you’ve been working on.” Rufus, apparently, was up to speed on his news channels. “I mean, do we have any evidence that you’ve actually been authorized by the school to approach her?”
“Approach her?” asked Daphne with a chuckle. “Is she provincial royalty?”
But he was right, Tessa realized. The attack at the house should have had her on high alert around every new person she met. If someone had been enraged enough at Justin to go to his house and threaten her, wasn’t it just as likely someone might go and stage a scam internship to lure her into danger?
A check with the school’s field experience office verified that Daphne’s offer was legitimate. She’d been vetted and passed a background check. The only irregularity was that she was offering a much larger opportunity than the one the school had advertised for on Tessa’s behalf. When Rufus grilled Daphne on this, she simply shrugged and reiterated, “I don’t half ass things.”
And so, Tessa found herself agreeing to the opportunity, though Daphne was quick to emphasize that she still had to accept Tessa. “It’s not so much an interview as it is the chance to see if we can work together,” she explained. “You hungry? I’m hungry. Why don’t we go talk over sushi?”
Tessa winced. “Do you have a second choice?”
“You don’t like sushi?” asked Daphne. The tone of her voice made
Tessa wonder if this could make or break the internship. “I just had it yesterday, that’s all,” she lied.
“We’ll do Greek then.” Daphne’s voice offered no argument, and she gave Rufus and Darius a once-over. “Does your entourage have to come?”
“Rufus does,” said Tessa firmly. “Darius . . .” Looking at him, she faltered and suddenly felt like an idiot. He’d asked her out first today, and she’d completely rolled over his invitation and taken on a new one. Admittedly, he had been instrumental in urging her to do so.
Daphne, either impatient or hungry or both, shrugged and turned abruptly on her high heels. “Makes no difference to me. Let’s go.” Tessa meekly followed, and after a few moments, so did the men.
Daphne claimed it wasn’t an interview, but it certainly felt like one as their afternoon meal proceeded. Actually, interrogation might have been a more accurate term. Daphne managed to quiz Tessa about every part of her childhood and subsequent arrival in the RUNA while effortlessly going through a plate of souvlaki. Tessa had found a lot of Gemmans displayed mixed feelings about her provincial history, but Daphne took it in stride. “Well, I’m willing to give this a shot if you are,” she told Tessa.
“Don’t you need a parent or guardian signature before starting work?” asked Rufus.
Tessa nodded, recalling the forms she’d filled out. “We can do it remotely.”
“Too impersonal,” declared Daphne. “Let’s go over to your place and meet this servitor that took you under his wing. We’ll make sure he’s doubly okay with you working for me, and I’ll make sure I’m not indirectly getting involved with some political dissident.”
“Why in the world would you think that?” exclaimed Tessa. “He was kicked out of the country,” said Daphne.
“We don’t know that for sure.” The mystery of Justin’s exile in Panama was still exactly that: a mystery. “Besides, if he’s back, he can’t be in that much trouble.”
“Maybe he just has powerful friends.” Daphne waited for confirmation, but Tessa refused to play along. “Well, whatever the reasons, we need his signature, so let’s head out and find him.”
Tessa glanced at the time. “I don’t know if he’s home. But his sister can sign anything from the school too.”
“That’ll work.” Daphne brought up the table’s panel and requested a split bill. “Just so you know, even when you’re officially working for me, you cover your own expenses.”
And so, the bewildering day proceeded with Tessa taking Daphne (and the others) back to the suburbs to meet the March family. The train was crowded with commuters, leaving standing room only. Tessa made herself small near a window, casting occasional nervous looks at both Darius and Daphne—who unnerved her for completely different reasons.
“Be careful,” a voice murmured in Tessa’s ear.
She flinched, startled to find Rufus right beside her. “With what?”
”Her.” Rufus’s eyes stared at the window as he kept his voice low.
“She hasn’t written a single word down, no notes. Even for an intern’s interview, that’s weird for someone who works in the information business. That means she’s probably recording everything.”
The idea had never occurred to Tessa. She gulped. “I didn’t say anything incriminating . . . did I?”
“No, but you’re bringing her into the house of someone who works for Internal Security. We’ll have to make sure she doesn’t leave with any info she shouldn’t.”
“I . . . I’ll see what I can do,” stammered Tessa.
Rufus glanced down at her and winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
He made good on his point by checking Daphne over for surveillance equipment before they crossed the threshold into the March house. Along with a physical check, he also had a device he c
ould scan her with. Daphne acted affronted but, to Tessa’s surprise, did actually turn out to be wearing a microphone.
“Standard journalistic practice,” she insisted.
“And removing it is standard practice before entering the home of a government official,” Rufus told her sweetly.
It was actually a relief to Tessa to find that only Cynthia and Quentin were home. Daphne still peppered Cynthia with questions, including specifics about Justin and any “powerful friends.”
“I have no idea what my brother does all day,” Cynthia snapped. “It’s a boring government job. And Tessa has nothing to do with any of that anyway—not that it should matter if you just need an intern to get you coffee or whatever. Explain again all she’ll be doing. I want to understand it before I sign anything.”
This put Daphne on the defensive, quick to defend herself and the golden opportunity she presented. Tessa, watching the two women barter at the kitchen table, was simply glad to have the pressure taken off of her. Rufus relieved a praetorian who’d been hanging around the house and then joined Quentin in front of the living room screen, ostensibly out of the way but still easily accessible. That left Tessa standing alone with Darius.
“This is so weird,” she said. “Did you have to go through all of this for an internship?”
He shook his head. “No. At least not yet. The senate’s human resources department sent me a questionnaire and then wants me to come in to talk about finding the best placement. I never would’ve gotten fast tracked like that without your help.”
“I didn’t do anything,” said Tessa, feeling shy. “And you were the one who did all the work with that guy.”
Darius grinned. “I don’t want to do it again, though. I’ll leave the heroics to Rufus and your praetorians.”
Daphne almost had Cynthia on the verge of signing the permission document when Justin came home with Mae. He raised an eyebrow at Darius and came to a complete standstill over Daphne. She leapt to her high heeled feet and glided over to him, extending a hand.
“You must be Dr. March. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she oozed. Justin gave her a quick head-to-toe assessment that lingered on her
short skirt and then put on the smile he usually reserved for pretty women. “Likewise, Miss . . . ?”
“Lang. Daphne Lang.”
Again, Tessa heard that expectant tone in her voice, like she was hoping to be recognized. Cynthia saved him the trouble of further fact finding.
“She’s a North Prime reporter who wants to adopt Tessa,” said Cynthia. In her periphery, Tessa saw Rufus sidle up to Mae and whisper in her ear.
Justin’s hand dropped, as did his smile. “No. Tessa is not going to be the subject of some poor-provincial-girl-in-the-big-city piece for that crap news channel.”
A slight pursing of the lips was Daphne’s only sign of irritation at all about her employer being called a “crap news channel.”
”That’s not why I’m here at all. She sought me out, through her school’s internship program.”
Justin shot Tessa a surprised look. “You applied for an internship?
You . . . want to be a reporter?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “I mean, I don’t know. It just kind of happened.”
The story tumbled out in bits and pieces, put together by both Daphne and Tessa. Justin shook his head in exasperation when they finished. “Maybe you should see if another news channel bites,” he said.
“North Prime puts out some very excellent pieces,” Daphne said stiffly. “This is a big opportunity for her.”
“I’d rather she just sat at a desk for a whole class period and actually listened to a lecture or something,” said Justin. “I don’t like all this experiential stuff.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” said Cynthia. “The internship, I mean. I’ve always thought real world experience can carry more weight than classroom learning.”
“That’s because you—” Justin wisely bit off his words and turned back to Daphne. “Look, if you want Tessa to be your errand girl, I want a different document that you’ll sign saying you won’t turn her story into trashy entertainment.”
Daphne pouted, but Tessa could tell she wasn’t truly offended. “You really think that’s why I’m here? Fine, I’ll sign whatever you like.”
Mae strode forward and stood at his side, fixing Daphne with a stare that chilled the room. “I’m sure it’ll take time for their lawyer to draw that up. The family will be in touch when everything’s ready for signing, so that should wrap things up for now.” There was no need to voice the unspoken Now get out at the end of her words.
The come-hither look Daphne had used on Justin turned into something much harder as she sized up Mae. “I don’t believe we’ve met. You are . . . ?”
“Praetorian Mae Koskinen. Dr. March’s bodyguard.”
Daphne arched an eyebrow and then glanced at Justin. “Everyone’s got a bodyguard around here. And you have a formidable one . . . for a boring government job.”
Justin looked a little surprised to hear her using Cynthia’s earlier wording but didn’t comment on it. “Just precautionary diligence on the government’s part.”
Quentin’s voice suddenly piped up from the living room. “Uncle Justin? You’re on the news!”
Everyone’s heads swiveled toward the screen. There, one of the RUNA’s most famous journalists—who worked for a far more prestigious network than North Prime—was reporting on Senator Lucian Darling’s just-announced trip to Arcadia.
“The senator, as part of a gesture of good will and desire to exchange ideas with the Arcadians, will be accompanied by a number of cultural experts,” the reporter was saying as several headshots— including Justin’s—were displayed on the screen. “Atticus Marley, special diplomatic envoy to Arcadia. Professor George Yi, of the comparative culture department at Vancouver University. Dr. Justin March, IS servitor and former instructor of religious studies. Phil Ramirez, international trade expert and analyst.”
The scene cut to live footage of Lucian Darling standing gallantly on the senate steps, holding a press conference. “It is our hope,” he was saying, “that by showing our willingness to learn about their culture, the Arcadians will in turn be more open-minded to learning about ours, thus helping forge new connections and ease hostilities between our nations.” When one of the attending journalists asked about the danger the trip involved for him, especially during election season, Lucian simply smiled and shook his head. He launched into what Tessa could tell was a well-prepared statement on how it was more important to take a risk for his country’s well-being than stay safe on the campaign trail.
“He’s so, so good,” murmured Daphne.
The reporters at the senate erupted in questions. Back in the March house, Justin muttered something uncomplimentary, and Cynthia shot him an outraged look. “When the hell were you going to tell me?”
He sighed. “In a quiet moment, without reporters. Anywhere.” Cynthia, eyes wide, turned back to the screen as Lucian fielded
another question about the risks of traveling into Arcadia. “It’s crazy! It doesn’t matter what nonsense he’s touting about bravery to the country!”
“It’s a very public expedition,” said Justin calmly. “It wouldn’t be worth the fallout for them or us to screw it up. Besides, with Lucian around, I’ll even have more protection than I do on my regular trips. Nothing can happen.”
“You don’t go to places as bad as Arcadia on your regular trips!”
Cynthia exclaimed. When Justin didn’t respond, she turned even more incredulous. “Do you? Where the hell do you go?”
“Where do you think I go when I say I’m leaving the country?”
“I don’t know!” She threw up her hands. “The EA. Panama. It’s state business. I didn’t think I should ask too many questions. Maybe I should have.”
“When are you—and Lucian—coming back?” asked Daphne.
Mae, clearly not liking what she saw as
an outsider to family business, swiftly moved to the reporter’s side. “Miss Lang, I think it’s time you go. As I said, someone will be in touch with you about the paperwork. I’ll walk you to the door now.” Mae’s voice was perfectly polite, but Tessa could sense the praetorian steel within. Daphne apparently could as well.
“I’ll find my own way out,” said Daphne stiffly. “But thank you, praetorian.”
“I insist,” said Mae.
She and Daphne locked eyes, igniting a battle of wills that left everyone uneasy. Tessa admired that Daphne even managed a fighting chance, but ultimately, it seemed Mae would win since she could literally throw the other woman out of the house. Tessa took a tentative step forward.
“I’ll walk Daphne out. I brought her here. It’s only polite.”
Mae’s sharp gaze turned on Tessa, apparently to ponder whether or not Tessa could be trusted to make sure Daphne actually left. After several long moments, Mae gave a nod. Daphne made simpering farewells to Justin and Cynthia—though both were too preoccupied to really hear them—and then let Tessa lead her to the door.
“Well,” she told Tessa when they were alone. “I guess that answers my question about Dr. March having ‘powerful friends.’” She paused eloquently. “And just between you and me, I think there’s some serious family dysfunction going on around here.”
“That’s an understatement,” said Tessa wearily, opening the door. “But thank you for your time.”
Daphne crooked her a grin and leaned against the side of the doorway. “Such finality. I really hope you’ll get your paperwork in order and come work with me because you can have the position if you want it. Your benefactor may roll his eyes at North Prime, and that castal praetorian can glare all she wants, but here’s the truth. You aren’t going to get a lot of people answering Creative Minds’ ad for you. They spell out that you’re provincial, and not many people are going to go for that. They won’t even think you can speak English.”
Tessa flinched. She’d gotten so used to the acceptance at Creative Minds that she’d nearly forgotten the prejudice toward provincials that she’d experienced in other schools. She’d run into enough of it in the RUNA, however, to know that Daphne’s words weren’t entirely made up as part of some sales pitch.
The Immortal Crown Page 10
