by S. T. Bende
“Got it.” Elin jotted a note on her pad.
“You will have thirty minutes to outline, then we’ll present to the group. As Keys, your opinions are valued. But your ability to convince others to follow your advice will mean the difference between being able to implement the changes you were born to bring about, and being a mere figurehead.”
Like my grandmother had been, for so many years . . .
“Get writing.” Larkin walked to her desk, and turned over the bubble-filled hourglass that served as her timer. “May the words be with you.”
Chapter 3
AS SOON AS CLASS ended, I headed to the Dyr facility to visit my bobcat friend, Bob. He’d been living there for a little more than a year—since the blowout with my evil Uncle Dragen, during which he’d nearly died. His recovery had been slow, and at my request, the animal husbandry team had kept him under close watch—a life-saving call I’d have thought Bob would appreciate. Instead, it seemed to have ticked him off. Unlike most Midgardian bobcats, Bob could talk—a side effect of his inter-realm travel, I supposed. And because of that, I knew in excruciating detail just how dull he found his confinement, his caretakers, and, as he called them, his cell mates. He described his weekly furlough into the forest in great detail during our hour-long chat, and dropped some not-so-subtle hints at wanting more hall passes from his “keepers”—Bob’s words. It had taken me a full ten minutes of explaining before Bob understood he was nearly healed, and he wouldn’t let me leave until I’d sworn to talk to the Dyr the moment he passed his final physical. For both of our sakes, I hoped that wouldn’t take long.
Dinner was halfway over by the time I made it to the great hall. After eating two helpings of roast and potatoes, and taking an unusually short post-dinner walk with my equally wiped-out boyfriend, I decided to turn in early. I kissed Viggo goodnight at my door, then made a beeline for the layers of downy white goodness nestled atop my four-poster bed. I desperately needed some sleep.
Unfortunately for me, Jande had other plans.
“It needs another evidentiary citation.” My friend hovered over Finna’s desk, toying with the massive purple crystal he wore on his right hand. He always played with his jewelry when he was stressed. He and Finna had been hard at work on their protection briefing since their call with Idris early that afternoon. From the worry lines stretching across their foreheads, I guessed things weren’t going well.
“We already have three cases, Jande. I think we’re good.” Finna’s normally tranquil voice carried a hint of tension. “Let’s just turn this over and—”
“No! It’s our first briefing, and we’re writing it for royalty. It needs to be perfekt.” Jande spun the ring around his finger.
“Um, could you back up just a bit please? It’s hard to write when you’re literally leaning on my shoulder.”
“Huh? Right. Sorry.” Jande stepped a few inches away from Finna’s chair.
My roommate ran her fingertip along her data pad. “How’s this? We include one final example—the southern icelands restoration. The team reversed the temperature increase brought on by the mining emissions, stopping the melting trend and preserving the water level before it destroyed the audrugulls’ nesting grounds.”
Jande leaned forward. “Ooh, that’s a good one.”
“A little space please,” Finna said tersely.
Clearly, it had been a long day for our science team, as well.
“Hey, you guys.” I walked cautiously toward the edge of my bed. “Nearly done with that briefing?”
“Why? Did Idris ask? Oh, gods, I told you we should have finished it before dinner!”
“Stop it, Jande!” Finna turned around. Her russet skin was tinted pink. “We are doing the best we can!”
“Idris didn’t say anything,” I said quickly. “And it’s fine. Just get your report to her whenever it’s done. No worries.”
“No worr—do you even hear yourself?” Jande placed his hand on his hip. “The Crown Princess of Vanaheim asked us to prepare a security briefing. Van-a-heim. A realm where actual deities and demigods live. Vanaheim.”
“I’m familiar with Vanaheim. Thanks.” I kicked my shoes into my closet, and pulled my favorite blue pajamas from my wardrobe.
“Have you been there? Do you have any idea what kind of format they use for their official reports, or whether they prefer more formal language in their communi—”
“Are you planning to follow me into the bathroom?” I paused outside the door, my pajamas in hand. I stepped inside, set them on the counter, and placed my palms on Jande’s shoulders. “Breathe, Jande. You and Finna are top of your class. I put you on the cabinet for a reason. I have absolute faith in you both.”
“I just don’t want to screw this up,” he whispered.
“You won’t. Now let me put on my pajamas, for the love of Frigga. I’m tired.”
I closed the bathroom door behind me, and took my time changing, washing my face, and brushing my teeth. By the time I checked my reflection in the silver-framed mirror, turned off the chandelier, and stepped back into my room, a considerably less-stressed Jande lay spread-eagled on Finna’s bed. My roommate stood over her data pad, reading silently.
“Everything all right?” I asked again.
“We sent it.” Finna brushed an errant strand of hair from her face. “Just waiting on confirmation . . . ah, there it is.”
“Thank gods.” Jande exhaled. “That was exhausting.”
Finna shot him a look. “You do realize this is the job, right? Producing content on short notice for high-ranking officials?”
“It’s part of the job,” I offered. “Some days, you’ll oversee research. Or brainstorm workarounds for issues that plague communities.”
“Either way, if you’re going to melt down on me every time we have a deadline, I’m out.” Finna crossed her arms.
Jande pushed himself up on his elbows. “I didn’t melt down. I came up with two of the four examples we cited.”
“And you completely stressed me out while doing it! If you want to work together, you’re going to have to take it down a notch.”
“I can do that,” Jande said calmly. “I’ll just wear more amethyst.”
“And lepidolite,” Finna muttered.
“It wouldn’t hurt,” Jande agreed.
“Now that that’s settled . . .” I climbed into bed, and pulled the plush comforter over my legs. So close to sleep. “Mind explaining to me what your solution actually was? We kind of blew right past it during our chat.”
“The resonance code?” Jande sat all the way up. “We just learned it this semester. But it’s perfekt for what Idris needs.”
“Explain.” I leaned back against my pillows.
“Well,” Jande began. “Last term, we started an interdisciplinary project with the fourth-year Empati class. We wanted to see if we could combine our abilities to create a unique energy signature. Something that might have security implications, since the government’s been going through so much change.”
“I’m lost,” I admitted.
“Basically, we didn’t want to find ourselves in a position where someone could be forced to act against their will again.” Finna spoke quietly. I’d confided in my friends about Narrik using älva dust to control my grandmother. But they knew that the queen was ashamed she’d been deceived, and so we kept the details between ourselves. “Since crystals carry such a unique energetic vibration, we thought we might be able to match the frequency of one with the frequency of an individual’s aura—essentially, find an energetic twin that would lock the resonance of its owner in place.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “So, did you find any matches?”
“We did,” Finna confirmed.
“And what happened?”
“Something we hadn’t anticipated,” Jande admitted. “We’d thought that once combined, the matching resonances would lock in on each other—hold their identical vibrations in a continual wave. Instead, when the subject
held its paired crystal, that subject’s energy combined with the crystal’s to create a totally unique vibration. One that couldn’t possibly be replicated, because in all of our tests, it had never previously existed.”
“Wow.”
“You’re telling us.” Jande ran his fingertip along his quartz necklace. “But what’s really interesting is the way that vibration shifts once the aura itself changes. It becomes almost stagnant—as if the crystal’s putting off no energy whatsoever.”
“Like somebody pressed its pause, or mute button?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Finna confirmed.
“And that’s interesting . . . why?”
“Because if we can match an uncompromised subject to its twin crystal, and record their merged, unique resonance code, then we have a formula for that person’s imprint when they aren’t under any undue influence. The minute you ask them to do something that goes against their core values, their aura shifts to one of unease. When that happens, the crystal’s resonance disappears, and you know the subject’s integrity—and quite possibly, their free will—has been compromised. From a security perspective, that person would be deemed inadmissible to high-clearance situations. You don’t want to risk a traitor being around secure documents, or in confidential meetings, right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
“Well, now you’ll know when someone’s under undue influence. So long as they’ve been crystal matched first.” Jande looked inordinately pleased with himself. I had to admit, it sounded like a foolproof plan.
“The resonance code—that unique energy signature produced by an uncompromised subject and his or her matching crystal—is a security system that absolutely cannot be hacked.” Finna pushed Jande’s feet out of the way, and sat on the edge of her bed. “Look, an eyeball can be removed, right?”
“Ew.” I cringed.
“It can,” Jande said matter-of-factly. “Or it can be 3-D scanned and printed in duplicate. Vanaheim’s current use of a retinal scan is a fallible security system. But the code created when a crystal and an aura align can never be matched. If the royal household were to wear their twin crystals, we could set up scanners that would only admit certain resonance codes to the castle, or the senate building, or wherever that realm’s restricted areas are.”
“But couldn’t whoever’s trying to break into their castle—that specter/shadow/whoever it is . . . couldn’t they force someone to scan themselves in, and just follow after them?” I stuffed a second pillow beneath my head so I could see my friends better.
“Not unless that staff member was willingly betraying the crown,” Finna said. “The resonance of an aura shifts, depending on its owner’s mood, intentions, and overall state of mind. If that staff member is being held under duress, or if their mind is being controlled by, say, älva dust, then their aura will shift, too. In that case, it will no longer match the resonance of the crystal. And the entry code won’t work.”
“That’s really smart.” I blinked at Finna and Jande. “Why didn’t we think of that before?”
“To be honest, we weren’t sure it could be done. Nobody’s ever tried to lock resonances, though of course now it seems completely obvious, and clearly something we should have implemented years ago.” Jande sighed. “Oh, well. We have it now.”
“We do.” Finna nodded. “And we’ve shared our technical breakdown with Crown Princess Idris’ staff. Hopefully, they’ll be able to crack the resonances of their key household members, and track crystals that match that vibration.”
“And if not, I would be happy to make a trip to Vanaheim to personally oversee the project.” Jande waggled his brows. “I hear Tyr goes there sometimes.”
“Tyr, as in, Asgard’s God of War, Tyr? Don’t you already have a boyfriend? My super-awesome cousin, perhaps?” I frowned.
“Oh, Ondyr can come too.” Jande smiled beatifically. “The more the merrier.”
A massive yawn parted my lips. I covered my mouth before rolling onto my side. “It’s too late for this. I have to get some sleep. Maja’s coming in the morning.”
“She is?” Interest piqued Finna’s voice. “How long will she be here?”
“A few weeks, I think. She’s coming to shadow Viggo to see where our defensive holes might be.”
“Will she be here through your coronation?” Jande asked.
“If they’re really making me do it in June, I guess so.”
Jande rested his chin on his hand. “I don’t know why you’re so down on all of this. I’d love to be in your shoes.”
“You can have my shoes,” I said into my pillow. “I don’t want any of the attention. I just want to do the job.”
“This is the job,” Finna said gently. “Just like we have to get used to working under deadline calmly—”
“Don’t glare at me, Finna,” Jande interrupted.
“Just like we have our learning curve, you also have to get used to doing these public things. I know you hate them,” Finna said, “but they mean a lot to Alfheim.”
“I guess,” I muttered.
“Just try to have some fun with it,” Finna said. “Who knows? You might end up enjoying yourself.”
Fat chance.
Chapter 4
THE NEXT DAY, VIGGO and I waited outside the school’s main entry. Maja, Viggo’s dark faerie cousin, and the girl who’d taught me to balance light and dark energies, would be there any minute. After considerable begging, she’d agreed to join my cabinet as a consultant . . . on a trial basis only. I’d told Finna and Jande that she’d be shadowing Viggo in his role as minister of defense, but things were a little more complicated than that. She’d also be working with Signy and the Protektors to get a better understanding of the threats our realm faced, and helping us evaluate our current staff to identify who might still be loyal to Narrik. Maja’s gifts ranged from reading auras to seeing the future to being a kick-butt energy warrior. She was an asset we desperately needed on our team.
I hoped we could convince her to stay.
“Is that her?” I bounced on my toes as a flash of lightning shot across the grey sky.
“She’s not Thor. She doesn’t travel by lightning.” Viggo rolled his eyes.
“Thor doesn’t travel by lightning. He travels by Bifrost.” I jutted my hip. “And he’s God of Thunder, not Lightning, thank you very much.”
“Mmm. You and Thor are on close terms then, I take it?”
I wish.
“Not as of yet.” I raised my chin. “But we will be. I’m sure the Queen of Alfheim has many dealings with the God of . . . uh . . .”
“Thunder. You just corrected me. Are you—”
I pressed my fingers to Viggo’s lips. “Shh. Do you hear that?”
“The boom of distant thunder?” Viggo mumbled around the obstruction. “Yes.”
“No. That buzzing. It’s coming from . . .” I turned in a slow circle. “From . . . oof!”
Wind rushed from my lungs as something knocked into me from the side. I was launched into my boyfriend’s back. The two of us landed hard against the dirt. When we stopped skidding, I lifted my head to find the knee-high boots, black tights, and goth-chic minidress of the faerie who’d helped me save our realm.
“Maja?” I extracted myself from atop Viggo’s prone body. “Jeez, you know how to make an entrance.”
“Some Verge you two are. Didn’t even see me coming.” Maja shook her head.
“We were expecting a more dignified arrival,” Viggo said drily. He pushed himself up, and pointed to the grassy field in front of the academy. “Ever heard of a landing area?”
“Ever heard of never letting your guard down? No wonder you guys got yourselves in such a mess.” Maja shook her head, her inky black waves a longer version of Viggo’s.
“That was my grandmother’s mess, not mine. We’re doing things differently from here on out.” I held out my hand and Maja grasped it.
“Then I suggest you never let your guard down.” Maja released my hand
, and stepped back to appraise the academy. Her brows arched ever-so slightly. Was Maja actually . . . impressed? “So, this is your school? Some castle.”
“It is,” I said fondly. “It dates back to my grandparents’ reign. They mandated that all youth be given the opportunity to receive a formal education in hopes future generations would feel a sense of ownership over their realm, and know they had the tools to make the changes they deemed most necessary.”
“Good goal.” Maja’s eyes traveled upward. “Who are they?”
I followed her gaze to the Styra/Astral tower. Our master manipulators and future predictors stood in their respective classrooms, with their nosy noses pressed to the windows. Typical.
“Those are the mean girls,” I said. “Their disciplines involve looking to the future and projecting the course of events . . . and trying to convince the rest of us to do what they want us to.”
Maja’s brow quirked. “And how many of them take advantage of that?”
“A good number.” Viggo dusted the dirt off his pants. “Hey, cousin.”
“Hey.” Maja nodded at Viggo. “So, their divisions are the first we’ll investigate for potential leaks.”
“Some are petty, but most work toward the greater good,” I offered. “A few of them are working with the restoration teams to project which regions will suffer the most without immediate correction.”
“Mmm.” Maja stared at the windows until the occupants finally disappeared. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”
“Probably a good idea.” Viggo gestured to the main entry. “What do you say? Want to take the tour?”
“Always good to get the lay of the land.” Maja walked toward the massive double doors that served as the academy’s entrance.
“Don’t you have any bags?” I glanced around to see if anything had fallen when Maja had tackled us, but I didn’t see so much as a backpack.