Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X #1)(93)
Author: Richelle Mead

Perhaps the only satisfying thing here was his complete and total shock. She didn’t know what he’d expected from her, but this outrage obviously wasn’t it. Finally. Something he hadn’t figured out.

“Mae…” He faltered. There it was, another rarity: him without a clever response.

“You think you’re so smart,” she continued. “You think it’s a game—that it’s some right you have—to pry and crack open other people. But you can’t! You can’t do that to people.”

His face was perfectly still as he processed her words. “I told you before that I can’t help it,” he said finally. “I can’t help seeing the things I do.”

Mae crossed her arms and stalked away to the kitchen. She opened the bottle of ree he’d left there and, without any formalities, took a long drink before speaking again. “You don’t have to flaunt it.”

She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want him to see something else in her. Seeing the outside of her body was nothing compared to seeing the inside. Even now, he was probably analyzing her outburst, and she already felt too raw and exposed. If she kept her back to him, maybe she could hide the hole in her that she felt he’d ripped open. The silence that stretched between them was agonizing. When he spoke again, his voice was very, very quiet.

“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 ass**le 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.