Gameboard of the Gods

“I’m sorry.”

Somehow, she knew he didn’t apologize very often. If ever. That didn’t mean all was right with the world, but she felt the need to acknowledge his words. Slowly, against her better judgment, she turned around and felt the first flush of the ree hitting her, bringing a slight tingling to her limbs.

“That doesn’t change things,” she said.

“No,” he agreed. “I can’t take back what I said. Or what I know. I’m sorry.”

There it was again. She swallowed and forced that calm indifference onto her face. “Nothing to be done. But thanks for the apology.”

“But it’s not accepted.”

She threw up her hands. “What do you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know.” He slumped back. “I meant what I said back in Panama: You’re hard to read. And I don’t know how to deal with that. You’re still that devastatingly beautiful Nordic nine who looks so sad sometimes and is terrified of losing control. I want to understand that. I mean, I guess I kind of do now, but still. I know you think I have no respect for women, but I really wouldn’t have taken advantage of you back then. And when I gave you that asshole line about no second dates, I really wish that—well.” He shook his head. “Forget it.”

“You didn’t take advantage of me.” Mae took another long drink of ree. “And I’m not in mourning. I mean, I didn’t want him to die. I’m sad for that—I am. But everyone seems to forget I ended things with him. I refused him.”

“Why did you? From what Dag and Val said, you guys were—” Justin abruptly stopped and looked sheepish. “Sorry. Horatio’s just tactfully reminded me I’m doing it again—pushing you. It’s none of my business.”

Horatio. The raven that lived inside Justin’s head. She’d almost forgotten about that in the midst of this new drama.

“What else do they say?” she asked. As the ree continued to work, talking about imaginary ravens didn’t seem that strange.

“They tell me you’ve already forgotten about the guy who was here.”

Mae supposed that was true. It also was a conclusion Justin himself might have subconsciously drawn. She sighed.

“Do you want to know why I have control issues?” she asked. “It’s because people have been trying to control me since birth. Only my dad didn’t, and he’s been gone for years.” Mae wasn’t sure where her next words came from. “I know what else you want to know,” she said. She wanted to believe this admission was ree-driven, but some part of her also needed to let out what was inside. He’d shown discretion with everything else he knew about her, and besides, she kind of had leverage over him. “You want to know how a Nordic nine ended up in the military.”

His eyes said yes, he very much wanted to know that. “It’s not my business.”

“It is now. Get comfortable.”

CHAPTER 25

HOW MAE GOT HER PURPOSE

Mae didn’t think of herself as much of a storyteller, but as she stretched back into a chair and began to speak, she found herself forgetting where she was or that Justin was there. The past took over, and memories she tried to keep locked away suddenly burst forth.

After her father’s death when she was sixteen, she had meekly gone along with her mother’s shift in parenting style. Part of it had just been grief. The rest had been an inability to fight her mother. Mae had dropped canne, as well as her dream to study something sports related in her tertiaries. There was a limited number of subjects a girl of her class could study, and Mae had chosen music, the lesser of the evils. She’d clung to the idea that it might get her a job and some glimmer of independence, but she’d been naïve to think Astrid Koskinen would allow her daughter that kind of life.

Her mother had planned for Mae’s debut party to take place two days after her tertiary graduation. Mae had been no fool about that part. She understood the point, that her mother wanted to show her off in the hopes of landing her a husband as soon as possible. After all, that was what girls of her class did. Plenty of young men had already trolled around before then, and despite her mother’s opinions on certain ones, Mae had been able to rebuff them all. That, at least, had been a small measure of control, and even if she resented the formalities of her debut, she knew marriage wasn’t something they could force her into.

There’d been no avoiding the pale pink dress. That was the tradition for all debutantes. Mae’s confidence grew when she got to choose the style: matte satin with a short-sleeved off-the-shoulder neckline and long, slim skirt. She remembered the dress perfectly, just as she did everything else from that night.

Mae’s mother had been intent on making the debut the social event of the year. She’d bought new furniture and decorations and even hired extra servants to staff the party. She’d also invited every influential Nordic person she could think of and even a few visiting plebeians of importance—like General Gan.

Mae had played her role to perfection. Putting on a good face, no matter what she felt on the inside, was bred into her: dancing, flitting around, smiling at the congratulations of all her guests. She’d felt like a show horse, or even a mannequin on display, beautifully groomed and meant to be stared at. It had been grating but was all part of the act. And always, always there were men around her. It was as if all the suitors who’d come calling when she was younger had suddenly ganged up together. They asked little about her and mostly spent their time telling her about all that they could offer in material goods.

When Gan had spoken to her, she’d felt a little intimidated at meeting a plebeian military leader, but her sense of etiquette wouldn’t allow her to show it. He’d given her the usual congratulations and then said something wholly unexpected, triggering a conversation forever etched in her memory.

“I saw footage of some of your canne de combat matches,” he told her. “You were remarkable. I’m surprised you didn’t compete professionally.”

No matter her opinions on the matter, Mae wasn’t about to confide her woes to a stranger. “It was a childhood game, sir. I had to grow up and move on to more important things.”

“I don’t think there’s anything particularly childish about embracing your natural talents. I’m guessing you’re quite the athlete and do well in other pursuits.”

“When I have the time.” He was the only person who’d spoken to her about such things, and as much as she longed to delve into a discussion about sports, she knew better.

“What will you do with your time now?” he asked with a small smile. “Get married?”

“Maybe,” she said automatically. “My tertiary was in music. Maybe I can do something with that.”

He nodded. “So I heard. A pretty vocation shared by half the girls here, I’m sure. Hardly what I’d expect of such an athletically talented young woman.” The tone of his voice left no doubt about his thoughts on that “pretty vocation,” and Mae suddenly felt humiliated. Still, she kept smiling.

“I can’t compete professionally anymore, sir. Even if I wanted to.” Which she did. “I’m past my prime to start down that path.”

“You mentioned earlier that you were moving on to more important things.” There’d been an intensity in his eyes that Mae would see through the rest of their acquaintance over the years. “Maybe you’re past your prime for canne, but you are right in it for the military.”

For a moment, she thought he was joking, but his face said otherwise. “The military? I…I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about. It’s not something someone like me could do.” And by “someone” she meant a patrician woman. Even a male patrician would hesitate to enlist, not if he could live off of family money and drink cocktails on the veranda.

“It’s exactly what someone like you could do,” he said gravely. “You were made for greatness. It’s written all over you, and there’s no greater thing than serving this country. Have you ever been outside the RUNA, Miss Koskinen? No, of course not. You’ve probably hardly ever left this grant. But I’ll tell you what you’re missing: savagery. If you could see the rest of the world, you’d understand what you have here—and you would want to lay down your life for its glory. We are the last bastion of light left on this planet. You could go far, achieve rank and responsibility far more worthwhile than anything you’d accomplish as a landowner’s wife.”

His words had left her breathless. Or maybe it had been the light on his face. Whether his motivations were honorable or not, he believed wholeheartedly in what he was saying.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” she said quietly. “The military is all about following orders. How is that any different from around here?”

Gan smiled. “Because you choose to follow them. And because they give you purpose. Do you have a purpose, Miss Koskinen?”

The question sent chills down her spine, but she tried to put on a mask of indifference. “Of course,” she said politely. “But I appreciate your advice. You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about.”

His expression told her she wasn’t fooling anyone. “I’ll be sticking around here for another hour or so if you’d like to talk more, then I have to head back to the Gustav. Early flight—otherwise I’d stay longer.”

“I understand.”

Someone called her away then, and she murmured a polite farewell. Her heart was racing, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was the glory he’d described. Maybe it was the thought of simply not doing what she’d been raised to do here. Or maybe it was just someone speaking to her candidly for a change. She never bothered to find him, though.

The night wore on. More smiles, more compliments, more dancing, and more champagne. She felt a headache coming on and slipped away from the party to find a painkiller in the kitchen. Before she could reach it, however, someone caught hold of her arm. She flinched. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">