Richelle Mead - Gameboard of the Gods

FOR JAY,

THIS ONE WAS WAITING FOR YOU.

Mae dealt out death regularly. It really wasnt a problem.

Death was clean on the battlefield, and there was no reason to dwell on what it meant. The kills were just mission objectives, and the people werent really people at all. It was you or them. And when the fight was done, you could just walk away.

But today? There was no walking away. Today, she was walking toward death, and that scared the hell out of her. Not much else did these days.

With a deep breath, she leaned her cheek against the living room mirror, closing her eyes and taking comfort in the way the glass cooled her skin. She repeated the soldiers creed over and over in her head, using the familiar words to steady herself: I am a soldier of the Republic. I do not serve my own will but that of my country. I am its tool and will gladly lay down my life to further this nations glory. I am a soldier of the Republic. I do not serve my own will but that of my country.

A knock at the door startled her out of her mantra, and she straightened up. Another deep breath calmed the shaking of her hands, and she pushed her emotions into a far compartment in her mind. Locked away, those feelings could not touch her. They were powerless, and she was free. She double-checked her face in the mirror, but it gave nothing away. It was blank. Empty. In control.

Dag and Val were at the door, as shed known theyd be. They greeted her with forced smiles that were a far cry from their usual happy-go-lucky selves. Both wore uniforms identical to hers: a mandarin-collared black jacket over black pants with black boots. Black everywhere. Even the buttons were black. The only color came from a scarlet pip on the collar, standing out like a drop of blood. To the inexperienced eye, these uniforms looked no different from the ones the prtorians usually wore into battle. To Mae, who could see and feel the dressy fabric of their formal attire, the uniform seemed flimsy and brought back her earlier fears of vulnerability. Being weaponless wasnt helping matters.

Here to babysit me? she asked.

Who said anything about babysitters? Dag was always quick with a smile, though his eyes betrayed him that morning. Were just a bunch of friends going out together.

You make it sound like were going to a bar, Mae said. She walked back to the mirror and examined the braided bun shed so painstakingly worked on. Grimacing, she pulled out the hairpins and began unraveling it all.

Val made herself comfortable on the arm of the couch, lazy and limber as a cat, even under these circumstances. What are you doing?

Its messy, Mae said.

There wasnt a hair out of place, protested Val.

Mae didnt answer. In the mirror, she saw her friends exchange troubled glances behind her. Its worse than I thought, Val seemed to be saying. Dags expression said he was in agreement but didnt entirely know how to handle it. Snapping a neck, lifting weights, donut-eating contests. Those were in his comfort zone. Therapy? Less so.

It wasnt part of Vals skill set either. Neither knew quite what to do with Mae, and she certainly wasnt going to help them outbecause she didnt want them to do anything. She wanted them to treat her in their usual flippant way. And what she wanted most was for this day to be over, so that life could return to normal.

How many times have you braided it today? Vals voice was uncharacteristically gentle.

Its not right, Mae said, dodging the question. This was actually the eighth time shed braided her hair. She kept pulling so tightly that her scalp had started to turn red, though the tiny metal implant in her arm dutifully dulled the pain. You wouldnt understand.

Neither Val nor Dag ever had hair problems. Dag always kept his dark hair closely shaved, and Val wore hers in a pixie cut that suited her diminutive frame. I should cut mine, Mae thought. Shed considered it a hundred times but could never bring herself to do it.

Its okay, you know. Grief is a normal part of the, um, process. Dag had apparently been reading self-help books before coming over. You can even cry.

Why would I do that? Mae pulled so hard on a strand of hair that she winced.

Because thats what people do when they lose someone they care about, said Val. Youre so tightly wound up that youll explode if you dont relax. And do not undo that. Its fine.

Mae had just finished her hair again, neatly wrapping the braid into a perfect knot above the back of her neck. She really was on the verge of pulling it out again when Val grabbed her arm. Enough, Mae. Were going to be late.

It was another bad sign, Vals using her real name instead of her pet name, Finn. But Mae couldnt deny her friends point. It was time to go. With one last glance in the mirror, she let them lead her outside to the subway entrance across the street. They took the blue line out to the base, earning a number of startled looks from other passengers. Prtorians werent that common outside of military and federal centers. A group of them was especially unusual. The passengers kept their distance and glanced around the train uneasily, wondering if they should expect a terrorist attack.

The threesome ended up reaching the base early, but plenty of other prtorians were already entering the ceremonial hall. And here, Mae faltered, stopping just outside the entrance. The spring sunshine was far too bright and cheery for a day like today. Dag touched her arm. You okay?

You dont have to go, Val told her.

Mae saluted the flag overhead and continued forward to the hand scanner. Everythings fine.

Neat rows of chairs filled the hall, which was nearly packed with prtorians. The news had come in less than a week ago, and it would have taken a fair amount of scrambling to pull so many of the guard back in from their scattered assignments. Some wouldnt be here, of course. It was the nature of the job. But the death of a prtorian was so monumental that their superiors wouldve certainly done whatever they could to ensure a good showing.

Although there was no official seating chart, the prtorians were gathering in cohorts. Val waved at someone across the room. The Scarlets had already taken a middle position and were beckoning them over. Val and Dag started to head in that direction, but Mae stopped again, allowing her eyes to focus on the front of the hall.

Thered been no body to recover, but theyd still set out a casket made of a dark, gleaming wood. Prtorian black. A swath of indigo silk covered it, with the RUNAs flag draped over that. Piles of gardenias sat on either side, their softness contrasting with the clean lines of the casket.