Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(116)

Mae left the gallery without another word and went back to the kitchen, where servants had returned now that the family drama was over. None of them paid much attention to her as she cut through the room, straight to the back door that led out to the house’s side. All was quiet and dark here. Guests who had wandered to the expansive patio had done so at the other end of the house. Packing or changing didn’t even cross her mind. She had what was left of her dignity, as well as a clutch purse containing her ego. Those were all she needed.

She walked off into the night, which was heavy with summer’s humidity and abuzz with the songs of insects. She found the dirt road that wound away from the estate and followed it to where it joined up with the main highway leading into New Stockholm. Two hours into the trip, she took off her high-heeled shoes and continued barefoot. Three hours into the trip, a storm rolled in and unleashed a torrential downpour. Six hours into the trip, she reached the edge of downtown.

Everyone knew where the Gustav was. It was one of the largest buildings on the west side and was the only hotel plebeians were allowed to stay at in the land grant. Through some serendipitous twist of fate, Mae walked up to it just as General Gan emerged and turned toward a waiting car. When he saw her, he came to a total standstill. Mae had the impression that the general had seen many, many things, but a bedraggled girl with bleeding feet and a soaked debutante’s dress probably wasn’t a sight he’d run into before.

“Hello, General,” she told him. “I’ve decided I’d like to have a purpose after all.”



When Mae finished her story, she thought Justin, who was stretched out on the couch, had fallen asleep. Silence fell, and he opened his eyes.

“If it makes you feel better, you win the dubious honor of completely surprising me. I never would have guessed any of that. My prevailing theory was that you ran off after some infatuation with a soldier.”

She smiled at that, pleasantly astonished at how good it really had felt to get this off her chest. She’d never told it to anyone. “Infatuation with my country, I guess.”

“Spoken like a true soldier.” He stifled a yawn. “That’s why you turned Porfirio down—too many scars from the thought of engagement.”

She supposed he was close to the mark, though Mae should’ve been used to that by now. “That, and he was pretty heavy-handed about it. I think he thought asking was kind of a formality. He couldn’t imagine I’d say no.” Startlingly close to the way Kris had behaved, she realized. “And I think being his wife…I don’t know. He didn’t have a lot of the sexist views patricians have, but there was still an overconfidence about him. He would’ve assumed I’d always go along with him. Kind of like the proposal—he couldn’t imagine I’d refuse.” She swallowed as she recalled their last meeting.

“You were afraid he would’ve tried to control you,” Justin said, summing it up. “Like the others.”

“It’s what people do—they’re always trying to get power over each other. The fact that it all went down when Claudia was pregnant just made it worse. More callous control of other lives.”

“What ever happened to the baby?” asked Justin.

“I don’t know. Sent away.” He was too tired to pick up the lie in her voice, or she was just that good. She’d given him a lot, but Emil’s mysterious leads and her own obsessive inquiries over the years about Claudia’s daughter were staying inside Mae’s heart. “I was long gone by then.”

Justin’s eyelids were drooping again, and she got to her feet. The ree had long since worn off and rarely left a hangover. “Get some sleep. We can do psychoanalysis of my dysfunctional life another time.”

“Everyone’s dysfunctional. There’s no such thing as normal.” When she returned with the blanket, his eyes were closed again, but he asked, “Is it boring, not sleeping? Do you mind it?”

“No, it’s actually useful.”

“Because you can fight at a moment’s notice?”

“Well, yes…but I’ve been a bad sleeper my whole life.” The next admission wasn’t one she made often. “I used to have nightmares. But not anymore.”

“No nightmares. No dreams,” he murmured. His breathing grew regular, and she knew he was asleep. She studied him for long moments, admiring not just the lines of his face but also this rare moment of peace, when the churning of his mind wasn’t tormenting him.

She passed the night in her bedroom, spending equal parts of it ruminating over the last few days, reading, and watching documentaries. Occasionally her eyes would lift to the window as she pondered what had happened to Emil. Who was he? And what was she supposed to do about him?

When morning came, she’d reached a decision. She showered and dressed and was in the middle of making breakfast when Justin finally woke up. He seemed startled that she was cooking.

“Why would you assume I can’t?” she asked, feeling mildly offended. It was only scrambled eggs, but still.

“I figured you grew up with cooks and then just ate from a mess hall.” He winced at the light. “Got any aspirin?”

“No. I don’t use it.”

“Caffeine it is then.”

He declined the food and contented himself with a giant mug of coffee. She was also pretty sure he must have slipped in some Exerzol, because he was bright-eyed and upbeat within the hour.