Queen of Air and Darkness (The Dark Artifices #3)

“It does,” she said, “because Horace Dearborn wants to interrogate Helen and Mark, and any other Downworlders or part Downworlders in Alicante. Magnus and Alec are already packing their things to Portal out tonight. Evelyn Highsmith returned to the London Institute, so they can go home to New York.” Jia pressed her fingers against her forehead. “I would have thought you would have wanted Helen and Mark to leave as well.”

“He wants to what?” Emma sat up straight, indignant. “You can’t let him.”

“I don’t have a choice. He was elected by a majority vote.” Jia frowned. “Interrogating people is what the Inquisitor does—the decision is at his discretion.”

“Horace Dearborn has no discretion,” said Diana.

“Which is why I’m giving you advance notice,” said Jia. “I suggest that Helen and Mark—and Aline, since she won’t leave Helen—be Portaled to Los Angeles tonight.”

There was a moment of silence. “You’re offering to send Helen to Los Angeles?” said Julian finally. “Not Wrangel Island?”

“I’m suggesting Helen and Aline temporarily run the Los Angeles Institute,” said Jia, and Emma actually felt her mouth fall open. “As the Consul, that is within my power, and I believe I can make it happen now, while Dearborn is distracted.”

“So you’re saying we should all Portal back?” Emma said. “And Helen and Aline can come with us? That’s great, that’s—”

“She doesn’t mean all of us,” said Julian. His hands were both bandaged. He’d gotten most of the splinters out himself, with the tip of a sharp knife, and there was blood on the bandages. He didn’t seem to have felt it—Emma had felt the pain herself, watching his skin split under the blade, but he had never wavered. “She means Diana, you, and I are going to stay here, in Idris.”

“You’ve always been clever, Julian,” said Jia, although not as if she admired the quality all that much.

“If Helen and Mark aren’t here, he’ll interrogate us,” said Julian. “Isn’t that true?”

“No,” Diana said sharply. “They’re children.”

“Yes,” said Jia. “And one of them broke the Mortal Sword. The Inquisitor, like everyone else, is desperate to know how. Cortana is a legendary sword, but still just a sword. It should not have been able to shatter Maellartach.”

“He can ask me, but I don’t know why it was broken,” Emma said. “I swung at Annabel because she was trying to kill me. It was self-defense—”

“People are terrified. And fear isn’t logical,” said Jia. “Thank the Angel that the Cup and Mirror are unaffected.” She sighed. “This was the worst possible time for the Mortal Sword to be broken, at a time of serious instability and on the eve of a possible war with faeries. And after the Unseelie King snatched Annabel from the Council Hall—don’t you understand how aware the Clave is that you brought her here?”

“That was just me.” Julian was white around the mouth. “Emma didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Emma felt a faint spark of relief light among her fear. He still has my back.

Jia looked down at her hands. “If I were to send all of you back home right now, there would be a riot. If Dearborn is allowed to question you, then public attention will swing away from you. The Cohort suspects your loyalty, mostly because of Helen and Mark.”

Julian gave a harsh laugh. “They suspect us because of our brother and sister? More than because I brought that thing—because I brought Annabel into the city? And promised everything would be all right? But it’s Mark and Helen’s blood that matters?”

“Blood always matters, to the wrong sort of people,” said Jia, and there was a rare bitterness in her voice. She passed a hand over her face. “I’m not asking you to be on his side. God, I’m not asking that. Just get him to understand that you’re victims of Annabel. Those not in the Cohort are very sympathetic to you right now because of Livia—he won’t want to go too much against public opinion.”

“So this is like a pointless little dance we’re doing?” Emma said. “We let the Inquisitor question us, mostly for show, and then we can go home?”

Jia smiled grimly. “Now you understand politics.”

“You’re not worried about making Aline and Helen the heads of the Los Angeles Institute? Given the Cohort’s concerns about Helen?” said Diana.

“It’ll just be Aline.” Julian gazed unwaveringly at Jia. “The Consul’s daughter. Helen won’t be running anything.”

“That’s right,” said Jia, “and no, I don’t like it either. But this may be a chance to get them back permanently from Wrangel Island. That’s why I’m asking for your help—all three of you.”

“Am I going to be interrogated as well?” There was a sharp tension in Diana’s voice.

“No,” Jia said. “But I’d like your help. As you helped me before with those files.”

“Files?” echoed Emma. “How are files important right now?”

But Diana looked as if she understood some secret language Jia was speaking. “I’ll stay, certainly,” she said. “As long as the understanding is clear that I’m helping you and that my interests are in no way aligned with the Inquisitor’s.”

“I understand,” said Jia. Nor are mine hung unspoken in the air.

“But the kids,” said Emma. “They can’t go back to Los Angeles without us.” She turned to look at Julian, waiting for him to say that he wouldn’t be separated from his younger siblings. That they needed him, that they should stay in Idris.

“Helen can take care of them,” he said, without glancing at her. “She wants to. It’ll be all right. She’s their sister.”

“Then it’s decided,” said Jia, rising from behind her desk. “You might as well get them packed—we’ll open the Portal for them tonight.”

Julian rose as well, pushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes with one of his bandaged hands. What the hell is wrong with you? Emma thought. There was something going on with Julian beyond what could be explained by grief. She didn’t just know it, she felt it, down in the deep place where the parabatai bond tugged at her heart.

And later tonight, when the others were gone, she would find out what it was.





5


WILDERNESS OF GLASS


When Emma came into Cristina’s room, she found her friend already packing. Cristina packed like she did everything else, with neatness and precision. She carefully rolled all her clothes so they wouldn’t get wrinkled, sealed anything damp into plastic, and put her shoes into soft bags so they didn’t mark up any fabric.

“You realize that when I pack, I just throw everything into a suitcase, and then sit on it while Julian tries to zip it, right?” said Emma.

Cristina looked up and smiled. “The thought gives me hives.”

Emma leaned against the wall. She felt bone tired and strangely lonely, as if Cristina and the Blackthorns had already departed. “Please tell me you’ll be at the L.A. Institute when I get back,” she said.

Cristina stopped packing. She glanced down at the suitcase the Penhallows had provided, open on the bed, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Do you know how long it will be?”

“A few days.”

“Do you think the family will want me to stay?” Cristina turned wide, dark eyes on Emma. “I could just go home. My study year isn’t over, but they would understand. I feel as if I’m intruding. . . .”

Emma pushed herself off the wall, shaking her head vigorously. “No, no—you’re not, Tina, you’re not.” Quickly, she described her conversation with Jem and the issue of the ley line contamination. “Jem thought I was going back to Los Angeles,” she said. “He asked me to contact Catarina and help her find out more about the ley lines, but it’ll have to be you. Helen and Aline will be so overwhelmed with the kids, and with their grief, and everyone—I know you can do it, Cristina. I trust you.”

Cristina gave her a slightly watery smile. “I trust you, too.”

Emma sat down on the bed. It creaked a protest, and she kicked it, bruising her heel but relieving her feelings somewhat. “I don’t mean that Helen and Aline won’t be any help. It’s just that everyone’s destroyed with grief. They’re going to need someone who isn’t destroyed to turn to—they’ll need you.” She took a deep breath. “Mark will need you.”