The Immortal Crown

by Richelle Mead

  Justin gave her a wry smile. “Because you always have that same tension and predatory look when the implant inspires you to proposition me. You’ll have to find some other outlet tonight, though. I’ve got to keep my strength up.”

  Mae felt blood rush to her cheeks, but he’d already turned away from her and was trying to make sense of the makeup kit they’d pilfered from Lucian’s room. As Justin experimented with under eye concealers, she simply sat around dumbfounded, replaying his last words. Was that why he thought she’d tried to take him to bed after the Arcadians burst into the room?

  Was it the reason?

  She could admit that her libido did ramp up when the implant was activated, and it certainly had been after escaping from Jasper. But as she thought back to the details of that night, it hadn’t just been the surge of chemicals that had drawn her to Justin. It had been . . . him. And not just the feel of his body either—though that hadn’t been without its effects. There’d been something powerful in the way he’d stood up for her. Not that she was looking for rescue. Mae didn’t expect that from anyone. It was more about the trust between them than the actual act of helping her. He’d had no idea what was going on, yet he’d unquestioningly stood by her. He always did. In Mae’s life, trust was a tenuous thing. She trusted her fellow praetorians because they’d been trained to have each other’s backs, and she knew she could count on them. Mae realized she placed just as much faith in Justin as she did Val or Dag or any of the Scarlets . . . without any of the same concrete reasons. There was something intangible that bound her to Justin, something that burned with both loyalty and a deeper attraction that she didn’t know how to articulate.

  In fact, she didn’t know how to articulate any of this. And as she continued struggling to come to terms with her own tangled emotions, she felt the moment to act or say anything more about them slipping away. Justin grew caught up in his task, and before long, the other Gemmans returned home and wanted updates. Lucian was understandably surprised to hear Justin now saying he wanted to encourage an Arcadian cultural delegation without elaborating why. Mae lost any other chances to speak alone with Justin until the others left for dinner, just as word came that a temple car had arrived for Justin’s pick-up.

  “Are you sure I can’t come with you?” she pushed, standing alone with him in their guest house’s common room.

  “I’ll be fine. This is all on me, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re safely back here under boring house arrest.” He certainly looked capable of making anything happen. He’d made a remarkable recovery and was back to the same outgoing, dashing mode that Mae knew so well. “And when I get back, we’ll figure out this business with your niece.”

  “I thought you’d forgotten,” she said, legitimately surprised. It had never left her mind—especially in light of recent developments—but she’d thought it had slipped his.

  “I don’t forget anything,” he teased. “Especially something like that. Wait for me, and we’ll talk.”

  A surge of emotion swelled within her chest, muddled by her earlier fears that he thought she only came to him when she was amped up on endorphins. Of course, he’d had his own share of bad behaviors in their history of fumbling romantic attempts, ones she’d heard no good excuses for. But as she allowed herself to accept that he’d misunderstood her recently, she also came to terms with the idea that she’d maybe misunderstood him. The how or why—especially in light of some of the things he’d said to her—was still a mystery, but enough weirdness surrounded them these days that she understood that there were very possibly factors at work that she had no knowledge of.

  Yet again, expressing all of these things was beyond her. Words were Justin’s gift, not hers. And so, bereft of any other immediate options, Mae leaned forward and kissed him—a long, lingering kiss that didn’t say “I want to take you to bed” but that hopefully conveyed some of the depth what she was feeling inside. It was the best she could do. Whether she was successful or not, she couldn’t say, though he certainly looked surprised when shouts from outside about the waiting car forced them to part. He looked as tongue-tied as she felt and only managed to say, “Wait for me,” before slipping away.

  Mae returned to his room and tried to find some distraction that wouldn’t leave her obsessing over him or the risks he might be facing. The sight of the amber knife reminded her of her own problems and the clock ticking on the salon. Justin had said he’d help her tonight . . . but that was assuming he got back in a timely manner to do anything. Picking up the dagger, running her fingers over the amber inlay, she knew instantly what she wanted to do, no matter his warnings about the supernatural. The knife had led her to her niece, who was about to be taken away again. Justin had said he’d help her tonight, but what harm was there in being prepared with more information? The more they knew, the more they’d be able to act. The only risk she faced was if she didn’t come out of the knife’s trance before the other Gemmans returned from dinner. A check of the clock in the main sitting room told her she had at least two hours, if not more. Resolved, she summoned a prayer to the unknown goddess and sliced her palm with the blade.

  The expected vision came, showing unexpected things. Mae saw what was happening with the salon and what she had to do. When the vision ended, and she returned to her senses in the bedroom, she discovered two things. One was that only an hour had passed. The other was that she had a mark left on her skin from where she’d cut it. Before, the wound had always healed by the time the vision ended. It still didn’t look fresh now by any means—more like it had happened a couple of days ago—but she was startled to see any residual mark at all. A voice sounded in her head: You can’t keep asking for much without giving a little.

  Mae had no time to ponder that, though. Not after what she’d seen. Time was more critical than she’d realized. Wait for me, Justin had said.

  But as Mae began stripping off her Arcadian dress, the unfortunate reality hit her. “I can’t,” she said aloud. “I can’t.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Odin’s Priest Earns His Keep

  Justin knew he looked good. The mirror and Mae had told him as much. Did he feel good? That was a different matter. He could’ve easily slept another six hours, and he had a feeling he might more than double that once the current Exerzol high wore off. As long as he could get through this upcoming meeting, though, it would all be worth it.

  You could’ve warned me about the aftereffects, he told Magnus, as the temple car drove into the city. Or maybe that soul severing part.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve done that for a priest, explained the raven. I knew there’d be some consequences but didn’t think it’d be this bad. But you’ve recovered nicely, and next time, we’ll make sure you’re better prepared.

  Justin didn’t appreciate the assumption. No one said there’ll be a next time.

  Won’t there? asked Magnus. Don’t you want to feel that communion with Odin? Not that you need me for it. If you embrace your calling, you’ll find maintaining that connection on a daily basis is easy.

  Justin wasn’t sure if he wanted that either. Yes, he could freely admit that it had been pretty thrilling, but as he’d learned from his lifetime of substance abuse, a high wasn’t always worth what you paid for it. The potential to lose control was too great. He’d discovered that with drugs on more than one occasion and wasn’t sure he could win if he tried it with a god. The hypocrisy of having warned Mae away from such things wasn’t lost on him either.

  And then there was Mae herself.

  For a sweet moment, the weight of human and godly concerns lifted from Justin, and he was left only with the memory of that kiss. What in the world had brought that about? Concern for his safety? Gratitude for his help with her niece, help he still really wasn’t sure how to give? There’d been no question the feel of her lips made his blood burn and hands long to touch her . . . but that parting kiss had been about so much more than just sex and desire. What that more was remained to be se
en.

  “Because my life needs one more complication,” he muttered. “Excuse me?” the driver called back.

  “Nothing,” said Justin.

  Hansen met him at the temple steps again, and even Justin was proud of the poker face worn by the young priest. Hansen gave no sign that the two had any connection outside of this escort service. In fact, the young Arcadian did a good job of looking as though this were just another irritating errand. He brought Justin back to the Grand Disciple’s apartments and then left with a bow when dismissed.

  The Grand Disciple was decked out in his bejeweled regalia once more, which he apparently needed to convey power when dealing with underlings and diplomats, rather than young girls brought to him without choice. He had a chilled decanter of white wine that Justin actually found nauseating after his recent malaise, but etiquette and keeping up with this farce required a good show. He’d sworn he’d be in perfect health tonight and didn’t want word getting back to Hansen of any weakness.

  “I trust you’re feeling better?” asked the Grand Disciple. “I was so distressed to hear you’d taken ill. I said many prayers for you.”

  “Thank you.” Justin made himself comfortable on the love seat and accepted a glass of wine. “I think I’ve just overindulged in too much food while I’ve been here. I don’t get this kind of cooking at home. In fact, I usually skip meals.”

  “That’s half your problem. We never do that—in fact, our dinner should be here in an hour. You Gemmans don’t marry nearly as much as you should. I’m sure you wouldn’t skip meals if you had a wife to take care of your needs,” said the priest.

  “I have a sister who tries to,” Justin said. “One who gives me plenty of grief when I slack off.”

  The Grand Disciple arched an eyebrow at that, probably because no Arcadian woman gave any Arcadian man grief about anything. “Well, just so long as you’re feeling better. I feared we wouldn’t have a chance to discuss my proposition before you left.”

  Justin took what he hoped was a polite sip and set the glass down. “Well, you’re in luck. I’ve actually talked to my people about it, and they’re in favor of it—with some modifications.”

  “Oh?” asked the Grand Disciple, not sounding entirely surprised. Justin could imagine he was expecting all sorts of restrictions, so what came next was undoubtedly astonishing.

  “You see,” Justin began, “I don’t know how much you know about our media or politics, but image is everything over there—especially to guys like Lucian. Senator Darling. He’s up for election, you see, and this trip is going to go a long way to help his image, showing how proactive he is about peace between our countries. And while a trade negotiation or promise of a future reciprocal trip would look good, it’s not going to have the impact of immediate action that Lucian wants. He’s got his heart set on a big impression, and he wants us to return later this week with something that’ll make people stop and stare. He wants us to come back with Arcadians.”

  The lies came easily, and if it all worked out, Justin hoped he’d be able to sound just as convincing to Lucian.

  “This week?” asked the Grand Disciple.

  Justin nodded. “He’s afraid if we leave with only verbal promises of something, then someone will get cold feet later. But if we can come back with a delegation, your people ready to share with ours, just as we’ve shared with you . . . well, he thinks it’s going to seal the election. That’s what he’s got his heart set on, even though I told him that’s probably not enough time for you to get together the kind of scholars you wanted to have come teach us about your culture.”

  The idea had come to Justin after talking to Hansen. If they were going to catch a potential Arcadian plot, then time was of the essence. Justin didn’t want to leave things hanging with promises of a visit that might go awry. He didn’t want to leave enough time for Hansen to change his mind—or get caught. From what Justin understood, the defector-trained hackers were already selected and ready. It would just be a question if the Grand Disciple was ready to let them go sooner than expected in order to aid Lucian’s alleged dreams of power.

  “It might be possible,” the Grand Disciple said at last. “Certainly it would disrupt the plans of some of the individuals I’d thought to send, but I’m sure they’d be accommodating in the goal of helping diplomatic relations. To be honest, I expected a long drawn-out battle over this . . . you’d sounded so uncertain about anyone speaking about Nehitimar in your country.”

  “Ah, yes.” Justin put on a sheepish look. “There is one other slight complication. Some people in our party are still concerned about the idea of anyone teaching about your religion—even academically. And, unfortunately, there are also those who haven’t forgotten tragic military, uh, entanglements between our nations. They’re afraid that a group of men coming in might reinforce harsh images—even though I’ve told them that’s just how things are done. The men do business here. So what Lucian was wondering was if we could soften the image of your people by having your delegates’ families or wives accompany them. They wouldn’t be active in any of the real diplomatic work, of course. They’d have peripheral roles, just as our women have had here. See some sights, stay well-chaperoned. But the hope is that by showing that side of your culture, it’ll warm up public perception of you—which Lucian naturally hopes will warm up public perception of him.”

  Justin gave a small laugh at that, hoping that it sounded like he and the Grand Disciple were in on some private joke together. Poor Lucian, he thought. I almost feel bad for all the things I’m claiming he’s said.

  The thing is, noted Horatio, that setting aside the conspiracy against your country, the rest of the logic might actually appeal to him.

  It would be good press for him to show up with an Arcadian peace delegation.

  The Grand Disciple’s face was lined with thought, but it seemed to be more about solving a problem than refusing. “That would be highly irregular—and also difficult on such a short time frame. It’s already tight enough just getting our men together in a few days’ time. You’re certain—and Senator Darling’s certain—that your government would allow this? These are big promises to make, and he hasn’t been elected yet.”

  It was a fair point, and Justin could only hope that—once he’d convinced Lucian of this madness—the senator would have enough connections back home to get the Arcadians admittance at the border. It was a big gamble.

  “He can do it,” Justin stated. “But if this is all too much for you, I can tell him—”

  “No, no.” The Grand Disciple got to his feet. “All things are possible in Nehitimar, and this may be the god’s way of expediting something I’ve long hoped for. We’ll get our lecturers together—and most certainly their concubines, if not their wives—in time, but it’s

  something I’ll have to start work on immediately.” He glanced at an ornate clock on the wall. “You’ve got me so worked up, I nearly forgot dinner is coming. How impolite. We can do that—then business.”

  “No, no,” said Justin, welcoming the chance to escape small talk with the priest. “This is more important, and it might do me good to go easy on the food.”

  The two of them hashed out a few more logistical details, like the number of the party and how they’d be distributed throughout different cities in the RUNA. Justin made up more grand claims from Lucian and uneasily hoped he’d be able to return to Carl’s soon because the senator was going to need a heads up about this sooner rather than later. That, and Justin’s Exerzol was wearing off. He wanted to get out of show mode and seek the comfort of his bed. He could talk to Lucian in pajamas.

  Hansen arrived to take Justin out, and the Grand Disciple brightened upon seeing his assistant. “Excellent. As soon as you’ve taken Dr. March to the car, we can discuss some very exciting plans.”

  “Ah. Forgive me, your piousness.” Hansen bowed low. “But the driver’s sick, and I haven’t had time to find a replacement. I was going to take him myself. But if you have
need of me . . .”

  The Grand Disciple frowned, though it was obviously no fault of Hansen’s. “No, take him, and if he needs to pick up any food on the way home, do so. I can talk to Cowlitz first.”

  “Cowlitz?” asked Hansen politely.

  “Yes, yes. Looks like we have some exciting news. The delegation I’ve long hoped for to their country will be going forward—much sooner than we expected. I’ll need Cowlitz to make sure his people are briefed, and you’ll need to finalize yours so be thinking about that tonight. Young Hansen here is one of those who’ll be coming with you,” the Grand Disciple explained to Justin. To Hansen, he continued, “Additionally, the parameters of the trip have changed, and our delegates will be bringing their wives.”

  “Some of us don’t have wives, your piousness,” Hansen reminded him.

  “Then you’ll bring concubines. I’m sure Elaina will enjoy the trip. We’ll discuss it later.” The Grand Disciple was so caught up in his plans now that he didn’t notice the transformation that took place in Hansen’s face at the mention of Elaina. “Now get Dr. March home, and hurry back. There’s much to be done.”

  Hansen didn’t say a word to Justin as he led him out, and it wasn’t until they were alone in the car that the younger man exhaled in relief. “You did it. You really did it.”

  “My god did it,” said Justin, remembering the role he was playing. Hansen nodded eagerly as he started the car. “I knew that . . . somehow, even though my logic said not to trust you, my heart believed. I knew that you—and he—would come through. That’s why I went ahead and told the others.”

  Justin had started to relax, looking forward to his bedroom, but those words drew him up short. “The others?”

  “You told me to find those who are dissatisfied to join us, and I did. I mean, I knew about them long ago, and now we’re going to meet them. Your driver getting sick isn’t a coincidence, I’m afraid, but you needing dinner is—a happy one. It’ll explain why we’re out so long.”