The Immortal Crown

by Richelle Mead

  He jumped up from the kitchen table when she entered. “How was it? Anything exciting happen? Did you meet anyone who—” He paused, jaw dropping slightly. “Wow . . . your hair. It’s so pretty.”

  ”Thanks,” she said, collapsing into a chair. Mental energy aside, the effects of being on her feet all night were now taking a toll. “And nothing too exciting happened.”

  “Did they feed you?” asked Cynthia. “I can get you some leftovers.” She was at the table too, along with Quentin and Rufus. The four of them were engaged in a game of mah jong, something that everyone kept trying to teach Tessa but which she didn’t have the knack for yet.

  “Yeah,” said Tessa.

  “But I’ll still take your leftovers,” said Dag cheerfully. Seeing Cynthia start to stand, he waved her off. “No, no. I’ll find them.”

  She settled down, but Rufus stood up. “You should take my place, Tessa. It’s ridiculous that you don’t have this mastered yet. And my shift’s almost over anyway.”

  Tessa wasn’t in the mood for games or even pleasant conversation, but before she could offer a protest, the doorbell rang. Dag jerked his attention from the refrigerator to a small screen in the kitchen that was connected to cameras at the front door. His jovial face hardened at the potential threat, and then when he actually saw who was at the door, his expression turned to one of disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, hurrying off to the door with no other explanation.

  Tessa, curious, got up to look at the screen and was swiftly joined by Rufus. “Do you know her?” asked Tessa, seeing his look of astonishment. He immediately smoothed his features and shook his head.

  “No. Just expecting someone more formidable from Dagsson’s reaction,” he said gruffly. And yet, when Dag nervously ushered their guest in, Rufus couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  She was no one Tessa knew, a plebeian woman of average height, with dark eyes and wavy brown hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail. Her clothes were casual but showed a body that, although small, was muscled and toned like someone who engaged in regular athletic activity. For half a second, Tessa wondered if this was another backup praetorian, except there was a slightly dazed look in the woman’s eyes that Tessa didn’t usually observe in those super soldiers.

  “This is, uh, Drusilla Kavi,” said Dag, who seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “She’s a . . . colleague. A praetorian.”

  Quentin was the only one who didn’t seem to pick up on the weird vibe in the room. “Are you here to help too?” he asked brightly.

  “I’m looking for Mae,” said Drusilla, voice dreamy. “She isn’t returning calls, and I’ve looked everywhere. I went to her home, but she wasn’t there. Then I found out she’s been at IS and went there—except I don’t have access to the building anymore. When I heard she’s been hanging out here, I thought I’d stop by.” Drusilla glanced around with a small frown. “But she doesn’t seem to be here either.”

  “Mae’s on a mission and not able to take calls,” explained Tessa. “Ah,” said Drusilla. “That explains it.”

  Dag cleared his throat. “I, uh, didn’t know you were out of the hospital, Kav—Drusilla.”

  “I’m still staying there,” she told him. “But I get day passes. I’m doing much better. I’m sure I’ll be out and back on duty in no time.”

  “I’m sure,” murmured Dag.

  “Are you certain you have permission to be away?” asked Rufus, still regarding her curiously.

  The smile she gave him was as spacey as the rest of her, but there was a wry tone in her voice. “Do you really think I could leave if the military didn’t want me to, Mr.—?”

  “Callaway,” he said. “And I suppose not.”

  “They’ve taken very good care of me,” continued Drusilla. “They take good care of us all—don’t they, Linus? Do you still have your implant?”

  Dag looked startled at the question. “Of course. Don’t you? I mean . . . I’m sure they turned it off while you’re, uh, recovering, but you must still have it.”

  She shook her head. “The doctors thought it best to remove it. Just until I’m better. It’s helped . . . a little. Some things haven’t gone away, though. Like my hands.” Looking down, she rubbed them together. “Do you get that? The pins and needles?”

  Dag looked completely baffled . . . and like he wished he were somewhere else. Or that she were somewhere else. If Tessa weren’t so equally weirded out by their guest, she would’ve taken pleasure in seeing her normally cocky tormentor so off his game.

  “Uh, no. I don’t get that,” he said. “I’m not really even sure what you mean.”

  Drusilla nodded in sad resignation. “I guess you’re lucky then. The meds help with some things . . . but that never seems to go away.”

  Awkward silence fell, and at least now, Tessa had some explanation for what made this woman behave so weirdly. Whatever her “meds” were helping with, it had to be significant to justify this haze she lived in.

  “Well,” said Drusilla. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. When did you say Mae was getting back?”

  “I didn’t,” said Dag. “It’s a mission. We don’t know.”

  “Right, right. Well, I’ll just keep trying her, and maybe I’ll get lucky. She visited me once in the hospital, and I think I was kind of out of it.” Drusilla gave a shaky laugh. “I wanted to make amends now that I’m with it again.”

  As she moved toward the doorway, Rufus hurried forward. “How about I help you get back. I’m not sure you should be out walking alone this late.”

  Drusilla laughed again. “I’m a praetorian. Nothing can hurt me.”

  ”Let me. I might be going your way anyway,” he insisted. “You’re going to the base’s hospital?”

  Rufus exchanged looks with Dag. “Uh, as it turns out, I am.” It was obvious to everyone but Drusilla that he was lying. He turned to Cynthia. “Okay if I go early?”

  “Fine with me,” she said.

  “Then I’ll make sure Praetorian Kavi gets back safely.” Dag nodded. “Better you than me.”

  “You’re very kind, Mr.—um, I forgot your name already,” Drusilla said apologetically.

  “It’s okay. Just call me Rufus.” He guided her toward the door. “Let’s get you back.”

  Drusilla followed, giving the others one more distracted smile. “It was nice meeting you all. Nice seeing you, Linus.”

  “You too,” Dag said stiffly. When the front door closed, he sat down at the table and shook his head in exasperation. “I owe him. He’s right—she shouldn’t have been out alone, but I’m not sure I could put up with that all the way back to the base.”

  “Who was she?” asked Cynthia. “And what was wrong with her?”

  ”Just another praetorian. One injured in—well, it doesn’t matter, but she’s taken a long time to recover. And honestly, I’m not even sure what she’s recovering from anymore,” he said.

  “Something that seems to require a lot of medication,” suggested Tessa. Dag nodded in agreement.

  Cynthia returned her attention to the game and began reassessing her tiles. “Well, I hope for her sake she gets better, but in the meantime, I’ve just got to say I’m glad she doesn’t have an implant. I mean, she doesn’t seem that dangerous, but anyone that out of it has no business with performance-enhancing technology. Your turn, Darius.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Gemman Gods

  Seeing Justin go immobile as a raven appeared out of thin air had been startling to Mae. And yet, that was nothing compared to when the raven suddenly returned without warning, bursting in through the small window in a flurry of squawks and dark feathers. It circled once around the room and then flew straight at Justin, as though it might attack him—only to vanish an inch before it made contact. The moment it did, Justin began gasping and sputtering, like a drowning man finally able to breathe air again. It was the first movement he’d made in an hour.

  Mae sprang from her position by the door, moving instantl
y to his side. She put an arm around him as he coughed and was surprised to feel that his skin was burning up. He half-heartedly tried to push her away and sputtered out, “Going to be sick . . . get something . . .”

  There were no bowls or trashcans in the room, so she grabbed the next best thing: the hat that Carl had given him. Justin dry heaved into it a couple of times, and Mae left him for the guesthouse’s bathroom, returning with a cup of water. His stomach settled, he accepted the water greedily but only took a few sips before handing it back to her and collapsing onto the bed. Mae had some experience with battlefield wounds, but illness was beyond her—particularly one with a supernatural cause.

  “What happened?” she asked, smoothing back his sweat-soaked hair. The fever had come on instantly.

  His eyes glittered brightly as he stared through her. “The touch of the god,” he said. “And the downfall of the stream . . . but they can’t right? Too much redundancy. No one can take it down. The god . . . he will know what to do . . .”

  Mae managed to get him to take another sip of water, and then he sank into a heavy sleep. She made a wet washcloth for his face and let him rest his head in her lap as she stared around the room helplessly, wishing the ravens that pestered him so much would come talk to her.

  “I don’t suppose you’ll pop into my head and let me know what’s going on?” she said aloud. But no response came. She didn’t have the benefit of answers from supernatural entities. All she had was a knife, but she certainly wasn’t going to use it now and risk losing time, not when Justin might need her in his current state. He’d warned her of the price for supernatural involvement. Was this what he was talking about? Her impression had always been of a greater, more metaphysical cost, not something so acute and immediate.

  He remained warm to the touch, but his breathing grew even and regular, and she hoped that solid sleep would cure whatever this ailment was. A knock at the door an hour later forced her to gently remove him from her lap and admit Lucian into the room. He handed her a plate of food as his gaze drifted to Justin’s sleeping form.

  “He really is sick,” said Lucian. “I thought maybe . . .”

  “You thought what?” prompted Mae when he didn’t continue.

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Is there anything I can do? Do we need to find a doctor?”

  Mae set down the plate and handed Lucian the hat that Justin had been sick in. “You can get rid of this,” she said. “And make apologies to Carl.”

  Lucian wrinkled his nose and promptly set the hat outside of the room. “Noted. Anything else? Anything else I can do . . . for you? I hate that you’re locked away like this . . . though, honestly, I don’t want to see you suffocated in all those scarves either.”

  There was legitimate concern in his voice, and it occurred to her that the unvoiced thought he’d hinted at might be that Justin had faked being sick in order to arrange some sort of liaison with her. I’ve given so little encouragement, she mused. And yet he remains interested. What should I do to be clearer? That was followed by a more startling thought: Should I be clearer?

  Mae had never played the games other girls in her caste and social status had seemed to love so much. And as an adult, her dealings with men had generally been straightforward as well. She ended things that needed to be ended and didn’t lead others on for her own gain or ego gratification. Justin had told her not to mention her niece to Lucian, but she now wondered if that was really the best course of action. Surely there might be a way to approach this that didn’t bring up the supernatural aspect at all.

  “This is a hard country for women,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m glad I wasn’t born into it and feel sorry for those who were—especially since they don’t know any better. I’ve heard stories . . .” She paused to glance away, as though too overcome to go on. “I’ve heard of them stealing women and girls, not just from the provinces but from the RUNA too. Is there any truth to that?”

  “In my experience, you can’t put anything past anyone,” he told her grimly. “Anything’s possible—but if it does happen to us, it doesn’t happen very often. Our border’s too locked down. It’s not easy for them to sneak over and snatch girls.”

  Unless castals are just handing them over, Mae thought bitterly. To Lucian, she said, “‘Not very often’ is still too often. Is there anything you could do to get them back?”

  He shook his head. “Finding them would be next to impossible.”

  ”Physically, it might be obvious,” she said. “Less or even no Cain.

  And then all you’d have to do is a genetic test to match their parents to our registry.”

  “They’d have to be in the RUNA for that. We don’t have the means to test here, and the Arcadians certainly aren’t going to let us bring them back based on a hunch over physical appearance. Even if we had some kind of hard proof that someone was a Gemman national, the politics of it would be sticky—especially if she’d been here long enough and was brainwashed into this system. An Arcadian wife with four kids isn’t going to want to come back, especially since they’re all taught that we’re godless servants of evil.”

  Mae wondered if the same would hold true for a girl of eight. She made no response, but her face must have given away her dismay. Lucian gently touched her arm and drew her nearer.

  “I understand your concern,” he told her. “I don’t want to see anyone stuck in this system, born to it or not. If there was something I could do, I would, but it’s out of my control.”

  Mae smiled, though she didn’t feel much humor. “You’re going to be one of the two most powerful people in the RUNA. Is anything going to be beyond you?”

  He gave her a long, level look, and when he answered, she wasn’t sure if they were still talking about the girls. “Some things just might be.”

  Behind her, Justin groaned in his sleep, and she hurriedly moved back to the bed. “I should sit with him,” she told Lucian. “I’ll let you know if he gets worse, but hopefully he’ll just sleep it off.”

  “Ah,” said Lucian. “It’s one of those things.”

  Mae realized he’d misunderstood and thought Justin had overdosed but decided not to clarify. Better for Lucian to think Justin had popped one too many of his daily stimulants than know that he’d been communing with supernatural forces.

  She sat by Justin’s side until morning, when his fever finally broke. He woke up, face drawn and exhausted, but eyes much clearer than they had been. She helped him sit up and brought more water, waiting until he’d had his fill before broaching what had happened.

  “Do you remember anything?” she asked. “You were kind of out of it.”

  “In more ways than you can imagine,” he said with a grimace. “I was out of my body . . . and in Magnus’s. We flew to the temple and spied on the Grand Disciple.” Justin suddenly straightened up. “Fuck, Mae. That nut wants to take out the media stream. He actually thinks he can send hackers or something with those missionary lecturers to do it and then launch an invasion.”

  She blinked in astonishment. “You said something like that . . . but I thought you were just delirious. You also said there’s redundancy built into the stream, which is true. It’s nearly impossible to take down.”

  “Then why was he so confident?” Justin raked a hand through his disheveled hair, his face lined with thought. “They have nothing comparable to that in their infrastructure. Nothing. Even if they had programmers from the provinces—hell, even the EA—they wouldn’t have the knowledge needed to crack our system.”

  “Maybe you should tell the others.”

  “With what proof?” Justin sighed. “I mean, I guess it’s all a moot point if I find a way to stall the Grand Disciple’s request. But then . . . should I? If they really do have intel, then that’s something we need to find out. If only there was a way to—”

  Someone knocked at the door, and when Mae called a greeting, she saw Val’s face appear. The other praetorian grinned upon seeing Ju
stin sitting up. “Well, well, you are alive. Barely. The senator’s report wasn’t so upbeat the last time he saw you.”

  “I can’t promise I’ll be my normal sunny self for a little while,” said Justin, “but yes, it looks like I’ll survive another day.”

  Val nodded. “That’s what we figured. Lucian had them send word this morning that you wouldn’t make brunch because you were sick. The temple then sent some guy here to check on you, I guess to make sure you weren’t faking. But we can tell him you’re out of commission until further notice.”

  “Wait,” called Justin, seeing her back out. “Did you get his name? The guy they sent?”

  “Hansen, I think.”

  Justin went still, and Mae could practically see the wheels of thought spinning behind his eyes. “Tell him I’ll talk to him here in—I don’t know, fifteen minutes. Give me a chance to clean up first.”

  He moved to the edge of the bed and winced when he tried to stand. Mae quickly intercepted him and slid her arm around him for support. “Like hell. You need to rest.”

  “I need to talk to Hansen,” Justin insisted. “Tell him, Val. Mae’ll get me showered.”

  Val slinked away, muttering something about how some people got all the good jobs. Mae helped Justin to the door but hesitated before leaving. “Are you sure about this? You’re really in bad shape. What caused this?”

  “Magic I wasn’t prepared for,” he said. “This is the physical toll for being part of such power when I wasn’t trained enough. But we found out what we needed.”

  Mae lowered her voice. “You said something else when you got back . . . about the god’s touch. What was that all about?”

  He didn’t answer for a long time. “Something else I wasn’t prepared for. Something glorious.”