“Arcadians would consider it perfectly normal for high-powered men to travel with concubines. Not wives—at least not into dangerous territories. But, they figure men have needs, and if a man can bring his concubine along, then why not?” Atticus let his rhetorical questions hang for a few moments. “Posing as concubines will provide an extra level of security behind closed doors when we aren’t out on official business. You can stay in our bedrooms all night, awake, on guard.”
Mae leaned forward. “Two questions. First: they must know we don’t have the same social order as they do with these wives and concubines. Won’t they think it’s suspicious if we show up matching their customs?”
Atticus smiled. “Yes, they know we don’t have that same formal structure, but they also know we have much looser mores when it comes to sex outside of marriage. Honestly, they all think we’re sinners and whores, and if we’re traveling with women for sex, then they’re concubines whether we call them that or not.”
“Fair enough,” said Mae, hiding any distaste she might feel. “But even if the Arcadians don’t have women in their military, they must know we do in ours. Don’t you think it might occur to them that maybe we’re playing them and sending trained soldiers undercover?”
“Some might,” he agreed. “But they won’t take you seriously. No offense.” He narrowed his eyes as he regarded Mae, seeming to truly notice her. “You’re a patrician, praetorian? Some northern European group?”
“Nordic,” she said warily. “Why?”
“The group makes no difference. It’s more your recessive genes I’m noticing—and the Arcadians will as well. They had no pre-vaccine defense against Mephistopheles, and Cain runs rampant among them. A woman with your coloring who’s also so, pardon me, attractive will draw attention.” He glanced at the other praetorian women and frowned. “Honestly, in my opinion, you’re all too attractive for this mission, plebeian or patrician. A healthy brunette might not be as rare as a healthy blonde, but you’re all going to be head and shoulders above many Arcadian women.”
“Worried the Arcadians will steal our women?” asked Justin.
Atticus didn’t laugh at the joke. “This group of women? Not without a fight. But I’d rather you four didn’t attract any unnecessary attention. I don’t suppose we could find any praetorians marked with Cain? No, I don’t suppose such a thing even exists.” He sighed and focused back on Mae. “At the very least, it might be worth swapping you out for a plebeian. We’re waiting to get another woman assigned to us as it is. I could ask for two.”
Justin stiffened in his chair and sensed a similar reaction in Mae as well. This whole ordeal he’d gone through for her would be worthless if she got cut from the mission. “No. Praetorian Koskinen has to go. I need her. That is, she’s not just here for security. She’s also essential to my work specifically.”
Phil frowned. “What exactly is your work? Are you seriously here just to learn about religion?”
“It’s classified,” said Justin. “Internal security stuff.”
It sounds so official when you put it like that, said Horatio.
That pleased Phil, who seemed to read it as a subtle way of saying Justin was some sort of ballistics expert planning strikes against Arcadia. That seemed to be much more reasonable than anyone being truly interested in local culture. Atticus looked unconvinced, but Lucian preempted whatever protests he might make.
“Best not to interfere with Internal Security’s plans,” he said. “And I’ve seen Praetorian Koskinen’s work in the past. I don’t think we need to worry about some ill-behaved man doing something she doesn’t want.”
Justin wondered if that was a subtle reference to Lucian’s own lack of success with Mae. If so, he seemed to be taking it in good humor.
Mae had on her usual poker face, and Justin couldn’t help but think that whatever reason Odin had had for having Justin encourage the two to go out, it apparently wasn’t strong enough to have an effect on her.
Maybe she’s not the one who matters, suggested Horatio.
You’re saying Odin just wants Lucian hooked on her? Why?
Might be a handy thing having a politician dancing at your every command, said the raven.
I wouldn’t say it’s gone that far or that Mae’s encouraging it, said Justin. And she doesn’t serve Odin, so how can he reap the benefit?
The birds had no answer, and Justin focused back on Atticus, who’d given up his protests about Mae and was finishing off his outline of the mission specifics. Since it was supposed to be a friendly, diplomatic mission, the majority of the time would be spent with Justin and the other key men being shown around relevant sites—together or separately—in Arcadia while they tried to gather as much intel as possible. Justin thought that would wrap up the briefing, but then another touch of the screen initiated a presentation entitled ARCADIAN CULTURE AND CUSTOMS.
“The mission details are easy,” Atticus told them grimly. “Now comes the hard part. Sit back, get comfortable, and forget everything you know about civility.”
CHAPTER 7
Hard Luck Cases
Darius was only the first surprising person Tessa found waiting for her after school the next day. He was standing outside the cushioned room that creative thinkers used to brainstorm their independent projects.
Actually, it was more like he was slouching outside of it. Each time she saw him, Tessa was kind of amazed that he managed to get around as well as he did. He seemed to be all arms and legs sometimes, and no encounter went by without him stumbling at least once. But he straightened up effortlessly now, a smile lighting his face.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she said.
They stood there in a moment of awkward silence as her classmates moved around them. Darius cleared his throat. “Are you doing anything right now? Do you want to go get coffee?”
Tessa had two immediate reactions. The first was relief that he was asking for coffee. That was something she understood. On the rare occasions she did get asked out socially by classmates, it was usually to eat Asian food, something she was still coming to terms with. The RUNA’s culture was so inextricably tied to that of its sister country, the EA, that Asian cuisine was pretty ubiquitous. Although she’d made great strides in differentiating between Chinese, Japanese, and Thai cuisine, chopsticks still remained an embarrassing social experience for her. But coffee? Coffee she could handle.
Once she’d accepted that, her next reaction was wariness. Every time Darius wanted to talk to her, it was to ask for something. What could he possibly want from her now? She was pretty sure she couldn’t get any more favors out of Justin. Darius didn’t seem like the type who wanted to hang out with her just for the novelty of gawking at a provincial, but maybe she was mistaken. Whatever his reasons were, she couldn’t guess them and was too polite to make up a lie to decline.
That, and her curiosity got the better of her yet again.
“Okay,” she said. The two of them began walking toward the stairs. “But someone’ll have to come with us.”
“Who?” asked Darius, looking understandably perplexed.
“Ah, well . . . um, after what happened last time you were over . . .” Tessa paused, not that there could be any question of which incident she was referring to. “Well, after that, Justin got security for us.
I’m not really supposed to go out without a bodyguard, so he should be waiting for me downstairs.”
Darius looked impressed. “You have your own bodyguard?”
“We kind of share a group of them,” she explained, blushing.
“Today I’m with a guy named Rufus. He seems okay.”
Tessa had only met him this morning. He’d said very little on the ride to school, which she’d liked. It was nice a change from Mae’s praetorian friends. Rufus might not have a reflex-enhancing implant in him, but she would gladly go without that extra protection in order to not be constantly reminded of the Miscreant Terrorist Girls Reform Camp.
Only, it wasn’t Rufus who greeted Tessa when she reached the bottom of the stairs. A woman she didn’t know was standing there, one whom Tessa’s eyes initially passed over until she did a double take and saw the stranger staring pointedly at her.
She strode up to Tessa on five-inch heels that were a perfect match to the tight red blazer and skirt she wore. A plunging neckline showed ample cl**vage and left one to wonder if there was anything on underneath it. The woman’s lacquer lipstick was the same shade of red, providing a bright contrast to her dark eyes and wavy hair. She held out a hand to Tessa and smiled with gleaming white teeth.
“You must be Teresa,” she said. “You look just like your picture, except dressed better. You ready to go?”
Tessa came to a halt. “Go where? Who are you?”
The woman’s eyebrows rose. “I figured they would’ve told you.
Or that you would’ve recognized me.” She waited for a response from Tessa and then glanced at Darius. Both shook their heads. “I’m Daphne Lang.” There was an expectant tone in her voice, like her name should’ve meant something. After a few more moments, the woman threw up her hands in frustration. “Really? Nothing?”
Tessa shook her head again. “I’m sorry.”
“Everything okay here?”
Rufus came strolling up to them, hands in his pockets and body language casual. But his eyes were fixed sharply on Daphne, and Tessa realized he’d probably been waiting down here and watching the whole time.
“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. I 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?”