“In fact,” a new voice said. “He’s on the stream right now.”

Mae turned in amazement. “Val?”

Her friend, wearing a dress of similar cut but in dark brown, grinned at her. “Surprise.”

Olivia gave a nod of dismissal, and Mae hurried over to Val for a quick hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I got assigned to this a couple of days ago.” Val’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “The request came specifically from Senator Darling’s office, so I figured you were behind it.”

Mae shook her head wonderingly. “I had nothing to do with it.

Lucian must’ve done it on his own.” For me, she realized. They’d needed a fifth female praetorian, and it wouldn’t have been that hard for Lucian to ask a few questions and find out who Mae was particularly close to. Of course, as much as Mae loved her friend’s company, she almost would’ve preferred Val was safely on bodyguard duty for the March family and not tied into this strange vision-driven mission that Mae had let herself get involved in.

“There you go again with his first name. I think it broke Dag’s heart that we get to go off adventuring without him, but hell, I’ll take undercover work in some backwoods country any day over monument duty. I thought we would’ve been pulled by now, but for all I know, the Scarlets’ll be in the capital through the election.” Val linked her arm through Mae’s and tugged her away. “Come on, let’s go watch the guys be manly and heroic for the cameras.”

They found the other praetorians watching the screen in the lounge part of the suite, where press coverage of the delegation’s sendoff was already in full swing. As Justin had predicted, most questions went to Lucian, many of them being variations of what she’d heard all week about the dangers of going into enemy territory. Lucian likewise reiterated what he’d said before about duty and how he didn’t care if it cost him in the election, so long as he aided his country. Whenever a question occasionally got tossed Justin’s way, he answered with equal finesse.

Val chuckled. “He could be a politician himself.”

“They’ve all been coached,” said Mae. “Everyone’s on best diplomatic behavior, both for our people and the Arcadians.”

“No one had to coach him on that,” scoffed Val. “That’s the kind of stuff he’s born with.”

Mae’s eyes lingered on Justin a few moments more until the camera cut away. She had to agree with Val’s assessment.

Once the praetorians were outfitted and given their final instructions, they were taken out to Vancouver’s military base to rendezvous with the rest of the party, who were still with the press and would be filmed and photographed leaving the senate in their cars as part of the media spectacular surrounding the trip. Mae hadn’t been out at the base in some time since working with Justin, and as their car cleared the security check points, it felt strange that her return would be in this drab dress and not the black uniform she’d missed.

The men joined them about an hour later, and when they were all aboard the jet flying them to the Arcadian border, the atmosphere took on an almost festive attitude. The press conference had been a dazzling success, and Lucian’s enthusiasm over their impending trip was infectious. If the others hadn’t been voters of his before, they were now, Mae thought. Even stern-faced George Yi looked caught up in Lucian’s visions of a brighter RUNA and accepted a glass of champagne as everyone settled in for the long flight.

“Cheer up,” said Justin, coming to sit beside Mae. She was scanning through images and charts of Arcadian data on her ego. He handed her a glass of champagne that she took but didn’t drink. “We’re embarking into the great unknown.”

Her own preoccupation with what she’d find in Arcadia was interfering with her ability to fully give into the party vibe. “Not that unknown. Our spies and satellites have made sure of that.”

“See, now that’s the spirit I’m looking for.” Justin settled back into his seat, and Mae suspected there may have been champagne in his car ride from the senate as well. “You should drink that, you know. Won’t be much on the other side. They don’t like their women to drink.”

She sipped the champagne, mostly out of habit. “They don’t like their women to do a lot of things, it seems. Wearing too much color being among them. How does that happen? Arcadia and the RUNA have the same roots. How could we have gone in such wildly different directions?”

Justin knocked back the rest of his drink. This was the kind of philosophical question he lived for. “Well, there were already a lot of regional differences in the former United States before the Decline.

This extreme? No, certainly not. It’s a common misunderstanding that people think pre-Arcadia was already way off the mainstream. That was true for some, but not all. Some of the greatest works of American music and literature came out of this region. There was a lot of thinking, a lot of culture.” He paused to eye his empty glass, and Mae helpfully poured her champagne into it. Giving her a mock toast, he continued, “But per what usually happens in catastrophic situations, people panic and open the door for the loudest voices to seize control.

And once they get power in a world where everything’s been destabilized, they can then rebuild that world in their own image.”

“Is that what usually happens?” Mae asked skeptically. “The loudest voices seize control? Not the reasonable ones?”

“Loudest,” affirmed Justin. “At least in times of disaster. You see, you’re not aware of it because you’re part of the military—which often is the loudest voice and, hopefully, the reasonable one. But back in the fallout from the Decline? The military was fragmented. Hell, half of it wasn’t even in the country. You and I are lucky that our ancestors listened to the loud voices that joined up with Asian countries against Mephistopheles.” He paused to rethink his words. “Well, perhaps ‘listened’ isn’t the right word. I’d say some of them were forced to hear.”

“Not many.”

“More than you’d think. Your pretty blond ancestors bought their way out, but plenty of people opposed to ‘optimal genetic reproduction’ didn’t have that luxury. It was an ugly time—uglier than most people realize. But look at us now.” He spread out his hands. “The height of civilization. The jewel of the world. Meanwhile, the Arcadians listened to voices that said they didn’t have to swap out their population and mix ethnicities . . . and they let a theocratic government take over and push a new religion that keeps its citizens ignorant and is afraid to let their women show their necks.” Mae flinched in surprise as he gently trailed his finger along her dress’s collar. “So, you tell me, did our ancestors make the right call?”

She shook her head and noticed Lucian watching them across the jet’s cabin. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know enough about the intricacies of the Decline. My guess is they made the best decision they could at the time with the information they had.”

“As do we all.” Justin dropped his hand and reached into his pocket. Moments later, he pressed something into Mae’s palm. “Here.

Put this on before we land. Not now, not while Lucian’s watching us.”

“How do you know that?” she asked. “I mean, you’re right, but your back’s to him.”

“I can feel it. That, and it’s no coincidence he picked a seat with a clear line of sight on you. Why sit there if he’s not going to use it to its full advantage?”

Mae looked at what he’d given her. It was a small wooden rectangle attached to a cord that was about the right length to wear as a necklace. Etched on the wood was a symbol that looked like a cross between an N and and H.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Haglaz,” he told her. “The ravens told me I could put it on a silver or gold chain, but that would violate Arcadian vanity rules, so I went old school. You should keep it under your clothes, but if anyone does see it, hopefully it’s crude enough to be ignored.”

“You made it?”

“Yeah.” He sounded more amused than proud. “You had no idea I was so crafty, did you?”

A few moments later, the full implications hit her. “Wait . . . is this something magical? Or supernatural?” She started to hand it back, and he pushed her hand away.

“It’ll obscure you as one of the elect. Unless you want the Arcadian equivalent of a beetle mob coming after you.”

She still couldn’t help but regard the necklace with suspicion—though she didn’t give it back. “I didn’t know you were involved with stuff like this.”

“Not happily,” he assured her. “But I keep my promises and look out for my own.”

Mae looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you claiming me as your own?”

He winked and stood up. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But humor me and keep it on for this trip. Actually, wear it when we’re back too.

Now.” He glanced around. “Where’s the rest of the cham—”

He froze as his gaze fell on Mae’s ego. “What’s that?”

“Just refreshing myself on mission details.” The image currently shown was one of the high priest of the Arcadian religion. His title was the Grand Disciple, and he wore robes and a headdress that were almost comically heavy with jewels. In one hand he clutched a golden cup, and in the other, he held a short golden staff with an eagle on top. “I figured you’d know who this is,” she added.

“Of course I do.” Justin stared for several more moments. “Does that particular document say anything about the staff he’s holding?”

“Not specifically. It just says this is the Grand Disciple’s most formal regalia, worn for important services and holidays.”

With a sigh, Justin dragged his eyes away and stood up.

“Wonderful,” he muttered. “I guess Geraki didn’t imagine it.”

He wandered off, leaving Mae puzzled as she clutched the necklace he’d given her. Putting it on seemed like an active admission of getting personally involved with the supernatural. But, as Justin had aptly pointed out, did she really want to advertise that she was one of the elect? When she’d asked him how Mama Orane hadn’t initially known he was an elect, he’d simply said that he “had ways to keep that under wraps.” Presumably, this was what he’d meant, and it had worked. Resolved, Mae waited until no one was watching and then slipped the necklace over her head and tucked the charm under her dress.

It wasn’t lost on her just how significant it was that Justin had actually made the charm himself. He’d told her the story of how, a long time ago, he’d been approached by a god who’d saved Justin’s life in the hopes of procuring his services and devotion. When Justin had related the tale, he’d made it sound as though he’d dodged any need to pay back the god . . . and yet, somewhere in the last few months, Mae had gotten the impression that something had changed. Justin wouldn’t talk about it when pressed, but this charm was a strong indication that—willingly or not—Justin was more involved with this god than he’d initially said. Mae could hardly fault him for keeping secrets, however, when she was sitting on her own knife-induced vision of the red velvet flag.

An hour before their landing, someone wisely put the champagne away, and the atmosphere grew more subdued. The Arcadians wouldn’t actually allow the plane to fly into their airspace, so Mae’s party was landing at a base on the Gemman side of the border. They would cross by land (and water, since there was a river along the border) and then be taken to the Arcadian capital, Divinia. Mae felt herself growing tenser as they neared their destination, and a glance at her fellow praetorians told her that they too were on edge as their implants warmed to the potential danger.

They received an enthusiastic welcome at the Gemman base, and Lucian paused for smiles and a brief talk with the soldiers there. After all, they were all potential voters who could influence their home senators to vote for him in the consular election. The soldiers seemed thrilled at the attention he gave them, but Mae was pleased to see them snap into business mode when it came time to escort her party to the border. Even with the water barrier, this was a dangerous post, and these soldiers had undoubtedly learned caution.

They took a military craft across the river, where a complementary Arcadian base awaited them—complete with a contingent of green-coated soldiers openly holding guns. Not counting the undercover women or base escort, Mae’s party had fifteen soldiers, most of which were praetorians wearing the regular gray and maroon military uniform.

The Arcadian “welcoming party” had more than four times that.

“Senator Darling.” A large uniformed man stepped forward from the throng, once the Gemman party was on Arcadian soil. His jacket was bedecked with medals and marks of rank that identified him as a general. “Welcome to Arcadia.”

If Lucian felt any nervousness at the situation he was walking into, he didn’t let it show. “You must be General McGraw. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He strode forward confidently and extended his hand, which the general shook without hesitation. Unless Mae was mistaken, there was a collective sigh of relief from both sides. So far, so good.

“Well,” said McGraw, “the real pleasure won’t begin until you’re in Divinia. I’m here to dispense with some necessary evils, which I’m sure you can understand.”

“Absolutely,” said Lucian. “Let’s do what needs to be done.”