Laura’s chest felt heavy from the emotion pouring off Cress. “For what? For you?”
Cress dropped her head. “And now I am the cause of more problems.”
Laura brushed stray hairs back from Cress’s cheek and fixed it over her ear. “Is Rhys still making trouble for you?”
With a stricken look, she stared at the ceiling as if she could see through the floors above to the Guildmaster’s office. “I don’t know if it’s him, but I’ve been called into several meetings. They’re questioning me about the Archives.”
“Interrogating, you mean,” she said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Laura sensed full truth, but it didn’t make her feel better. Cress knew she’d sense a lie if she had said no, so she was honest. But then she would shut down any further conversation. They didn’t pry into each other’s lives. Laura used to think that was the courtesy of friendship. Now she wondered if that said something about the friendship itself.
“Does Terryn know?”
She went to her desk and straightened some papers. “He’s busy with Draigen’s visit.”
Laura shook her head. “That’s not good enough, Cress. You almost died saving all those people at the Archives. You don’t deserve this.”
She hugged herself. “That was my fault. I was focused on venting off excess essence. I didn’t hold anything back for myself.”
Cress’s choice not to absorb essence from anyone without invitation made it harder for her to maintain her own essence. Even given that, Laura wanted to shake her for blaming herself for not protecting herself. “That’s ridiculous, Cress. Nothing was your fault. Rhys needs to know that, and Terryn should help you.”
Cress stared at her. “Is that going to matter in the end? I’m a leanansidhe, Laura.”
“Terryn—”
“Terryn”—she interrupted—“is one man, who takes on more than he should as it is. He’s worried about his family, about his clan. He’s worried about the balance of power between governments. Do you think he has the time to do anything about a Guildmaster who is afraid of what everyone else is afraid of?”
Laura shrugged slowly. “He’s Terryn macCullen.”
Cress’s jaw dropped. She snapped her mouth closed, then started laughing. “He’s Terryn macCullen. You’re right. And that’s why I can’t ask him, because he will try. And when someone tries to do too many things, nothing gets accomplished.”
Laura held her by the shoulders. “You matter, Cress.”
She closed her eyes. “I wish I could believe that. I know he loves me. I know I matter to him; but in the big picture, is it fair of me to want to matter more than anything?”
Laura did shake her then, but gently. “Yes. It is.”
Cress bowed her head. “Thank you for that.”
Laura hugged her. “Life sucks, Cress. You know that. The whole point of finding someone like Terryn is that you have someone to turn to when it really sucks.”
She knew she heard herself say it, even believed it. Life was a chain of disappointments, but life itself didn’t have to be. There were other chains, other paths, that did not lead to sadness. As she soothed Cress, she thought how tired she was and that the best she had to hope for at the end of the day was an unmade bed in a room with no window. Maybe, she thought, it was time to take her own advice. Maybe she needed to move beyond that and remember what life was like outside the walls of a Guildhouse.
When this job is done, she told herself, change is going to happen.
CHAPTER 22
IN THE EARLY-MORNING hours, Laura drove through a still-slumbering city. She had spent the night at the suite InterSec provided her in a nearby residential building, which she used as Mariel Tate’s home address. Already glamoured, she arrived at the Guildhouse as dawn broke, ready to spend the day with the macCullen staff as Mariel.
With Draigen’s visit to the White House at midmorning, she had cleared her schedule of anything else. No Legacy stint. No Guild work until late in the day. She didn’t want to face any hassles balancing other duties while she worked security. Once she was on the scene with Draigen, she needed to see the operation through to its conclusion, so other personas were out of the question.
While the rest of the city awakened, she had already spent hours within the Guildhouse with the macCullens on a final assessment, the plan review, the staff review, the location review. As the appointed time for Draigen’s departure drew near, the security team spread throughout the lobby of the Guildhouse. Business continued as usual, with people arriving and departing as in any other office building. As the base for the Seelie Court’s diplomatic missions in the U.S., the Washington Guildhouse attracted a number of fey species rarely seen together.
The short trip to the White House was scripted to the minute. Brinen and Aran remained in charge, responsible for any major decisions that cropped up. She had her own role to fill—show up at the right time in the right place and do the right thing when required. It was the type of work that was second nature to her, an assurance of her skills and abilities that didn’t require unnecessarily second-guessing herself.
Today, spies concerned her. Opening the Guild in the 1900s to all fey regardless of their historical affiliations remained one of High Queen Maeve’s most shrewd decisions. A significant number of Teutonic fey joined or worked for the Guild, producing unlikely scenarios of elves and dwarves and their allies working closely with Maeve’s Celtic supporters. The situation gave Maeve political cover, helping her to appear as a unifier among the fey. In reality, the Teutonic fey were given limited authority and never in an area that would have an impact on Maeve’s political agenda. Laura knew many of the Teuts were spies, but it was a situation that surprised no one. Maeve had her own spies at the Elvenking’s Consortium consulate across town.
The morning threat assessment gave no clear understanding of the Elvenking’s position on the Inverni situation. There were arguments for both sides. On the one hand, turmoil in the Seelie Court worked to his advantage, so encouraging the Inverni opposition also worked in his favor. On the other, provoking the Danann clans to act against the Inverni produced the same result. Donor Elfenkonig was a sharp politician, though. He knew the perception of his own aggressive posturing often made him an easy target for criticism. Under the circumstances, he might sit back and watch how Maeve handled the role for a change. Still, the local Teutonic fey bore watching.
The more subtle threat, in Laura’s opinion, were the Celtic fey. Not everyone trusted the Danann. They had come to power centuries ago through war. The fey had long memories. And the Dananns trusted no one. The tension between the Inverni and Danann clans only made matters worse.
The travel plans were checked and double-checked up to the moment when the word came down that Draigen was ready and the president was ready and everything that was supposed to bring the two together either was or wasn’t ready, but didn’t matter anymore. Things had to happen. Immediately. The show was on. A brownie security guard leaned toward her. “Agent Tate, we have a go out front.”
“A minute, please,” she said. Laura surveyed the lobby one more time as she smoothed her long dark hair over her ear. The security plan was tight, but it never hurt to have additional measures in place, ones that not everyone knew about. She didn’t know Draigen’s staff well enough to want to rely solely on them, so she had her own check on the plan. We’ve got a go, Jono. What say you?
“Nice, solid barrier spell across the front. Ends capped. I’m seeing a thin gap on one side.” His voice whispered softly in her earpiece as he used a radio link. The shield barrier made it difficult for him to send.
No one else knew Sinclair was out there and that he was checking up on the Inverni security. What does the closest Inverni Guardian look like?