Rook

flinching.
    She spent the rest of the journey making sure that they were appropriately armed. Both were carrying sidearms—in fact, they each had two, in addition to a rather intimidating array of knives, pepper spray, and telescoping batons tucked away under their dark purple coats.
    “Yeah, that’s very impressive,” she said. “No crucifixes or silver bullets?”
    “Those don’t work unless you’re a priest or being attacked by the press,” said the large bodyguard. “What kind of weapons are you carrying, Rook Thomas?” Myfanwy blinked in surprise.
    “Um, nothing,” she confessed. “The members of the Court aren’t really supposed to carry weapons. I think it’s a ceremonial thing.”
    “Would you like one?” asked Emily. “There’s a small arsenal in the trunk of the car.”
    “That’s a nice thought,” said Myfanwy. “But I’d feel even more awkward with a gun in my hand.”
And I’m not sure it would do much good anyway,
she thought, grimly remembering how incompetent she had been when confronting Goblet with a gun. Even Ingrid’s little book of instructions was unlikely to be helpful.
    Outside, it began to rain.
    “Rook Thomas, will your opponent be carrying a gun?” asked the large bodyguard.
    “I… don’t know,” she said. “But we’re going to a boardroom. And the rest of the Court will be there with their bodyguards.”
    “Going into battle, you want every advantage you can get,” said Emily gently. The bodyguards exchanged looks and set about rolling up the right leg of Myfanwy’s coveralls. “We’re going to give you a nice little piece in an ankle holster.”
    “Groovy,” said Myfanwy, distracted by a sudden terror.
What’s going to happen to me?
she thought. She stared out at the rain, envying all the little cars that zipped by on their way to things that weren’t this.
    “Rook Thomas, we’re here,” said Emily, and Myfanwy looked up, surprised. She had slipped into a reverie, and now she gazed up at the Apex. Inside that building was the traitor—the enemy who had conspired to obliterate her identity. She thought of the original Myfanwy Thomas, the shy young woman who had written letters filled with her hidden fears and small pleasures. Myfanwy closed her eyes and sent out a prayer, for Thomas and for herself. Then she let the rage build up inside her.
    “Let’s go,” she said, and stepped out of the car. She flinched against the rain but climbed the steps of the complex resolute, even in her ridiculous fatigues. Her bodyguards flanked her. The doors opened before them. For a moment, Emily ducked behind Myfanwy, but a quick read of her body reassured Myfanwy that it was simply for security.
    They were met in the foyer by an imperially slim Retainer with impeccable posture and a greasy manner.
    “Rook Thomas, welcome,” he said with a smirk.
    “Thanks, it’s lovely to be here,” she said, pausing unwillingly because he was standing in front of her.
Is this one of those tools who still think they can push Rook Thomas around?
“Now, move.” She stalked to the lifts and stabbed at the button. While Myfanwy waited, Emily spoke quietly.
    “Rook Thomas, that Retainer is talking on a telephone and looking at us.” Myfanwy nodded. “Would you like us to kill him?” Emily asked, and Myfanwy shot her a shocked look. “So that’s a no.”
    “As far as they know,” said Myfanwy carefully, “I am simply in a foul mood after the tests this morning and the incident this afternoon. He’s probably just letting the Court know that Rook Thomas has arrived.” They entered the lift, and before the doors closed, Myfanwy shot a hard look at the Retainer, who had hung up and was staring at them. He smiled obsequiously and nodded.
Remember, Thomas didn’t always get a lot of respect,
thought Myfanwy.
    Maybe I
should
have let Emily kill him.
    Myfanwy and her bodyguards proceeded to the executive conference room. Outside the doors, standing at attention, were two Apex guards, each fully as large as Myfanwy’s own.
    “Good evening, Rook Thomas,” said the guard on the left. “The Court is assembled and waiting for you. You and your bodyguards can go on in.”
    “Thank you,” Myfanwy said with a curt nod. “Long day?”
    “Always,” said the guard ruefully.
    “Well, have a good evening,” said Myfanwy. All these good manners were draining her fury—and that was dangerous. She looked back at Emily and her large bodyguard. “Okay, let’s go.” They