Does he know I’m one of the elect? he asked the ravens. I didn’t learn to hide myself until recently.
Probably not, said Horatio. Even before you made your own protection, having us around obscured your aura to many. He would have had to be pretty adept to see through our glamor.
Well, he must be somewhat adept if you never picked up on him being one of the elect, argued Justin.
He may have an entity of his own, said Magnus. Or he may be using a simple charm. He’s risen far in mortal dealings, but my instincts tell me he’s still new to the larger game. He’s too cocky and arrogant.
To Lucian, Justin asked, “Is it you who really plans on doing amazing things in this country, or your god? They want followers, Lucian. You have to know that. And dazzling displays in Arcadia and reform back home don’t immediately get people to your god’s altar.”
“Not immediately,” agreed Lucian. “And certainly not before I’m consul. But you must have seen enough to know this won’t stay under wraps forever. Too many unexplained things are happening, and I have religious freedom lobbyists knocking on my door every day.”
“So you plan on opening up the RUNA’s eyes to the divine, where you’ll be able to conveniently point people to the worship of your god?”
“I have no intention of turning us into Arcadia, if that’s what you’re getting at,” said Lucian. “I want a society where public officials and the average person can worship without stigma. You can have freedom of belief and rational thought both, you know.”
“Actually,” said Justin, “my entire job is built around the principle that you can’t, in fact, have those two things together.”
Lucian finished his brandy and stood up. “Then lucky for you, you’ve got a friend with connections when the time comes to find a new job. I’ll call you if I hear more about Mae. In the meantime, trust that I really do have good intentions—for her and for the country.” He put his hand on the door knob and glanced back. “And don’t make plans tomorrow night. After the Arcadian scandal blows up today, we’ll be having an impromptu celebratory dinner.”
Justin watched Lucian walk away and soon heard an excited burst of chatter from the living room. Even Justin’s own family adored Lucian. The universe was definitely playing unfairly.
Is it? asked Horatio. What’s he really done wrong? He wants to advocate for his god and find a way to work that into your country’s current framework.
Whose side are you on? asked Justin.
You just don’t like his designs on Mae, chastised the raven. I don’t either. But if he’s eventually able to create a greater acceptance of the divine in your culture, that’ll be good for us too. You may be working for different gods, but don’t dismiss the idea that you can work together for a mutual goal. Not all of the elect are at each other’s throats. Some are seeking allies too.
As Lucian had declared, the news broke that night with the story of how three Arcadian spies had been set up and caught, thanks to the hard work of Gemman intelligence and a group of brave Arcadians willing to sell their countrymen out for a chance at living in the Jewel of the World. Lucian, of course, was on hand for countless interviews, describing how they’d known they had to take action when they learned of the conspiracy during their recent visit. A few of the Gemman- supporting Arcadians were dredged up as well and had clearly been coached beforehand as they gave statements about how they were happy to help in the takedown and how grateful they were to Senator Darling for the opportunity. Hansen wasn’t among them, but he called Justin the following night as he was getting ready for Lucian’s dinner party.
“Are you coming tonight?” asked Hansen, his face eager on the wall of Justin’s bedroom screen. “All of us have been invited to celebrate our role in catching Cowlitz’s men.”
“I’ll be there,” said Justin, buttoning his tuxedo shirt. “Lucian would never let me live it down if not.”
Hansen grinned. “Great. Look, I was going to ask you this there, but with so many people around, I didn’t know if I’d get a chance. Now that Cowlitz’s group is settled and we’ve been given refugee status, when can we start having regular worship of Odin?”
Justin was tempted to say “never” but instead replied, “Ah, that’s difficult to say. You have to remember that religion is still frowned upon publicly.”
“But groups do exist,” the other man insisted. “Legally.”
Yes, but people in my position don’t publicly belong to them. We’d have to meet in secret,” Justin explained.
“Then we’ll meet in secret.”
“It’s really not a good idea for you and yours to be seen sneaking around to clandestine meetings. You need to look as though you’re embracing model Gemman life. You’re still going to be watched for a while.”
“You’ll give us something, though, right?” Seeing the desperation on Hansen’s face made Justin wish this was a voice-only call. “You have to. You’re our priest. We need Odin’s guidance. He brought us here, and we want to serve him well. You owe it to us. To him.”
Again, Justin had to bite back his words, that technically, he didn’t owe any of them anything. He’d made no vows to Odin, save to learn some of his wisdom. Leading the god’s followers was no obligation of Justin’s, and he was glad for it. It wouldn’t do to alienate Hansen or let on that Justin’s own relationship with the god was tenuous.
“Be patient,” Justin said. “We have to wait until the time is right. Odin understands this. Pray in your own way, and he’ll accept it.”
Be careful, said Horatio. Soon he won’t need you. Maybe he’ll be a priest in his own right.
He’s welcome to it, replied Justin. Then maybe the pressure’ll be off me.
Don’t you want to experience that power again? asked Magnus.
That bliss?
Too many strings, said Justin.
But many rewards, said Magnus.
As though on cue, the bedroom door pushed open, and Mae stepped through, grinning at Justin’s surprise. He stared in shock for several moments and then turned quickly back to Hansen on the screen. “We’ll talk later. Just be patient, you’ll see. Disconnect call.”
Justin took a few steps forward, then paused, uncertain as to what he was going to do. Mae made the decision, closing the distance between them and giving him a hug that left the fragrance of apple blossoms behind when she stepped back.
“You’re a little underdressed,” he said, at last. “But I don’t think anyone will judge.” And honestly, after a week in those horrible Arcadian clothes, her normal jeans and tank top ensemble was the height of fashion as far as he was concerned.
“For your victory dinner tonight? No, thanks. I had a message from Lucian inviting me, but the last thing I want to do is sit around and expound on our trip to Arcadia. I figured I could at least catch you before you went out.” She gestured toward his coat and tie, hanging on a chair. “Go ahead. Don’t let me stop you. I just wanted to talk a minute.”
Justin continued getting ready, feeling self-conscious with her eyes on him. “I figured you’d have a group of little ones trailing you everywhere—or at least one in particular.”
A bit of Mae’s good humor faded. “I did. On both counts. We were stuck at the base I crossed over to for a couple of days, and then the Citizens’ Ministry got involved and began contacting parents and relatives—of those that wanted a claim to their children, at least. Per policy, they had to contact my sister and Ava’s father too.”
“Ava?”
“My niece.” Mae’s expression softened as she spoke about the girl. “Imagine my surprise to find out Claudia’s plebeian fling was an upstanding young man who went on to become a chemical engineer and marry a primary school teacher. I guess he was just on the Nordic land grant that summer for a temporary job. Even more surprising was finding out he wanted custody of Ava. It defaulted to him technically anyway, but the social worker from the Ministry told me I’d have a good case if I chose to petition for custody myself.??
? Mae dropped her eyes and sighed. “I didn’t.”
Justin abandoned his grooming and sat beside her on the bed. He had a million questions about the details of her escape, but for now, her emotional well-being took precedence. “And how are you feeling about that?”
“Shitty,” she said. “But not about her. It was the right thing for Ava, I know it was. They’re a stable couple—and believe me, I did every background check I could on them, legal or otherwise—with a house and lots of land for her to play on . . . unfortunately it’s in San Francisco. Not convenient for me, but how could I hoard her for my own selfish reasons? And what life would I give her? I travel so much, she’d be with a babysitter half the time. Amata—her new stepmother— is going to take a leave of absence from her job to work on socializing Ava so she can go to school. I never would’ve thought about anything like that. I figured we’d get back here, Ava would jump into school, and life would be perfect.” Mae sighed again. “Letting her go with them was the right call. She liked them, even though she was still a little nervous about all the newness. She’ll be happy, and I can visit her. I just wish I could shake this feeling of . . . I don’t know. Failure. I worked for years trying to get her back.”
Justin slipped his arm around her. “And you did. You got her out of that nightmare existence, back to where she belongs. Her—and the others, I might add. She’s in a good place. What you’ve done is the last thing from failure.” He hesitated before asking his next question. “I, uh, don’t suppose there’s any chance your sister will petition for custody?”
Mae scoffed. “My sister’s too busy with lawyers. Her and my mother too, I imagine. It wasn’t very hard for the Citizens’ Ministry to figure out which girls were taken by force and which were thrown away.”
The enormity of what Mae had done, both for her niece and to the rest of her family as a result, struck him, and he drew her into his arms. She sank readily into him, resting her head on his chest. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve had to go through. I don’t think I slept the whole time you were lost out there.”
She tightened her hold on him. “You had no faith in me?”
“I had the utmost faith,” he countered. “But I still worried.”
“It was awful sometimes,” she admitted. “I saw some terrible things . . . but I saw some incredible things too. I know you’ve been saying getting involved with the gods is trouble, but after what I’ve seen, I don’t know if I could’ve done it without help. Some goddess got me through. Her . . .” Mae lifted her head and met his eyes. “. . . and thinking about you.”
She kissed him before he could protest, not that he wanted to protest. Not when he’d dreamed about this for the long days of her absence, not when the kiss was an echo of that parting one in Arcadia. It was filled with that same phantom sweetness he’d had so much trouble understanding . . . but craved nonetheless. In their tangle of complicated interactions over the last few months, he’d often found himself pining for how it had been in Panama, but now he realized that was wrong. That encounter between them had been hot and exciting, yes, but those feelings had only been the warm-up for what he felt now, something richer and deeper that resonated within each of them.
Mae eased back on the bed, bringing him down with her. “See?” she said, as though she could read his thoughts. “You aren’t just my easy outlet for implant-driven lust.” A mischievous smile played over her face. “Though I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some of that going on too. Still, you’re going to have to find another excuse this time. What’ll it be?” She paused to trail her lips down his neck. “You don’t do second dates? I hold no appeal anymore? I was an idiot to believe those things before, and I won’t this time either. You’re going to have to come up with something really convincing if you want to get out of this.”
“I don’t want to,” he said, voice ragged. And it was the truth. Her body was pressed to his, her eyes an endless sea of blue and green. He wanted to give into this power that kept bringing them back together. He wanted to feel her bare flesh against his, to lose himself in her, her and a world where there were no other political and godly complications. Unfortunately, no matter how much he pretended, he wasn’t sure such a world existed.
“I don’t want to,” he repeated. “But—”
“Then no buts,” she said. Despite the obvious passion burning through her, there was something canny in her eyes that made him think she’d been bracing for this conversation. “I’m done with games. I know how I feel about you, and nothing’s going to change that, no matter how infuriating you are. Blow off dinner tonight and stay here with me. Or if you don’t want to do it here, we’ll go to my place. We’ll stay in bed all night and make love and talk and you can finally get out from under all those secrets that burden you and tell me why you kept pushing me away. And then we’ll make love some more.”
She kissed him again, momentarily throwing off the response he’d been starting to formulate. He felt like his whole life was balancing on a razor’s edge, and the easy thing, the thing he wanted most, was to jump off with her. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to forget, the memory of those words spoken in that fateful dream came back to haunt him, as they so always did: You’ll know her by a crown of stars and flowers, and then when you take her to your bed and claim her, you will swear your loyalty to me.
The old panic seized him, and later, he would wonder if he would’ve felt differently if Hansen hadn’t called just before she arrived. Maybe if he hadn’t had that reminder fresh in his mind, the consequences of swearing loyalty to a god wouldn’t have mattered. But Hansen had called, and through Justin’s haze of desire, an image came to him of a lifetime of service to Odin, leading around a congregation of other Hansens, forced to bring others to the fold and jump at the god’s whims.
Mae saw that fear in him when Justin broke away, and she tried to pull him back. “No,” she said. “No more lies.”
“I’m not going to tell you any lies,” he said, struggling to sit up. “I’ll tell you the truth—as much as I can, at least.”
She sat up with him, her hair tousled and cheeks flushed. That almost broke him, almost brought him back to the bliss of her arms and her lips and the rest of her body. And then those words resounded in his mind once more: When you take her to your bed and claim her, you will swear your loyalty to me. He clasped her hands in his, fearful even of the temptation of that small touch, and met her gaze squarely. “Listen to me. You’re right— what I said, the second date nonsense and all that—were lies. Lies born out of both fear of any kind of real human connection and fear of . . . well, some other things I’ll try to get to. But here’s the truth. There’s no one else for me but you. I knew it in Panama, when I looked at you and the whole world stopped, but I was too foolish to acknowledge it then. I don’t think I really, truly accepted it until we were in Arcadia, when I had to come to terms with the possibility of never seeing you again. All those other flings I’ve had are just ashes in the wind, shattered and forgotten. But you . . . you’re the real thing. The fire that keeps burning in my life. You’re the one. There’s no one else I feel this connected to. And if I could do all those things, stay with you, make love—with the lights on—tell you everything that weighs on me, I would. Believe me, Mae, I would. But—”
“Justin—” She reached for his face, but he pushed her hand away. “No, listen. As much as I want to—and believe me, I do—there are still forces at work bigger than both of us that don’t necessarily have our best interests at heart. You said when you were out there you saw things that made you believe in the goodness of the gods . . . well, I’m still not sure. And I can’t explain it, but if you and I are together, if we cross that physical line again, there will be consequences neither of us can change.”
“So, what, then? No physical line?” she asked. “Is that what you need?”
For a moment, he considered it. Was it possible . . . a non-physical romance? Neither of th
em had a history that suggested they’d be able to pull that off. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t happy in just her presence. He was, and he didn’t want to lose that . . . but he didn’t trust himself— or her, for that matter. They’d slip one day, unable to resist, and he’d end up back in her arms and Odin’s service.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, at least not until I know more,” he said at last.
Mae was quiet for several moments. “How can you say these things to me? How can you tell me you want me, that I’m the only one . . . but that we can’t be together?”
“I can only imagine how it sounds,” he admitted.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think you can. What else is there? What else aren’t you telling me?”
That you were the woman a god picked out for me, and binding myself to you binds me to him.
He could’ve spoken those words, and maybe she would’ve understood. Except, the thing was, Justin was afraid she wouldn’t understand, that she would tell him service to a god was worth the price of their happiness. And looking at her now, at that lovely face and eyes filled with affection, Justin wondered if he might end up agreeing with her.
“I can’t tell you yet,” he said, releasing her hands. “I would if I could. If we could be together, if there were an easy way, I swear it, Mae—I would. But I can’t right now. I’m sorry.”
“Justin—” The hurt in her voice made his heart ache, but whatever else she might have said was cut off when he heard a sound at the door.
It was mostly closed, but someone pushed it open now, and he heard Rufus say, “Praetorian Koskinen? Are you—oh.” The man appeared in the doorway, immediately assessed what was happening and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I—”
“No.” Mae stood up from the bed and ran a hasty hand over her eyes. “It’s okay. I was just leaving. Is something wrong?”
Rufus still looked deeply flustered. “No, ma’am. I just wanted to say goodbye. I don’t know if Dr. March told you, but I’m leaving, and this is my last night.”