“I’m sorry, but until our terms are met,” she says, “we’re keeping your son. I assure you, he’s being well-cared for. We are not like the wild animals you have lurking in your own town.” Oooh, low blow, Mom. But in a way, she’s right. We don’t sound like animals.

We sound like freaking terrorists.

46

THE RIDE to the mutually decided-upon restaurant is interrupted only by a brief stop at a drugstore to get Reed some proper bandages and Tyrden some proper sedatives. He keeps waking up, and Rayna keeps punching him unconscious—not that Galen minds all that much.

What is bothering him though, is the fact that Reed and Toraf seem to get along right away. From the backseat they can be heard playing Slap, which is a game of reflex Rachel taught Rayna.

“That’s cheating,” Reed says. “Cheaters get slapped harder.”

“Then I’ll start slapping with a closed hand,” Toraf says, unconcerned.

Sitting on Galen’s lap, Emma turns around to look at them. Galen had thought she’d fallen asleep—though how she could have, he’s not sure, with two renowned loudmouths cackling in her ear. “Can you guys play a different game? Something that doesn’t involve making noise or being obnoxious?”

Toraf puts his hands down. “Well, how long until we’re there anyway?”

“Yeah,” Reed says. “We’ve been driving over an hour.” Reed of all people should know how long it takes to get to Chattanooga from Neptune.

“Patience is a virtue,” Nalia sings from the driver’s seat. Everyone groans. She raises a brow in the rearview. “We’re almost there, children.” As if on cue, they pass a sign that says, WELCOME TO CHATTANOOGA.

Galen feels Emma tense up against him. “It will all be okay, angelfish,” he whispers in her ear.

She eases back. “How do you know?”

The truth is, he doesn’t. There is no telling what will happen at this meeting with Neptune officials, what the result will be. But the fact that there will be a meeting at all—on neutral ground—should be taken as a positive sign.

The cabin of the SUV grows quiet then. Rayna and Toraf point to the tall buildings lancing up into the sky all around them, farther than they can crane their necks to see. Reed appears occupied by watching traffic pass outside his window. Emma relaxes against Galen’s chest, lost in her own thoughts.

He hopes today will not be a disappointment. Antonis is right—no matter the reason, they can no longer ignore the existence of Neptune. They have to work something out. And they’ll have to tell the Archives.

When they arrive at a restaurant called Hennen’s, Nalia lets everyone off at the door, except Rayna and Toraf, who’ve been commissioned to keep watch over Tyrden. At least, Galen thinks to himself, Rayna can give her fists a rest now that he’s properly sedated.

They wait on the curb in front while Nalia parks the car. Apparently, it takes an additional few minutes to find an ideal location for hostage storage. When she joins them, she winks at Grom, then laces her arm through his, ushering him inside. Galen, Emma, Reed, and Antonis follow her lead. Why wouldn’t they? She seems so at ease, like she’s done this hundreds of times.

The hostess leads them into a large private room, to a single long wooden table that could easily seat thirty. After placing down menus for everyone, she eases the door closed behind her. The room is glass-walled; none of the sounds from other parts of the restaurants can be heard.

Reder is already seated, along with two other men Galen doesn’t recognize. Reed takes the initiative to seat himself beside his father. It was decided on the way here that he would be permitted to do so in a show of generosity from the Royals.

Antonis’s voice rattles through Galen’s skull. A little diplomacy goes a long way.

Between father and son, they have a brief whispered conversation, wherein Reed holds up his injured hand for Reder’s inspection. Galen can’t tell what is running through the mayor’s mind right now, but it looks a lot like anger and frustration. Then he wears an emotion Galen is very familiar with—self-loathing.

By the time a short brunette server comes, no one has yet spoken. Everyone obediently gives her their drink order. When she returns with nine glasses of water, Nalia motions to her. “We won’t be ordering our dinner just yet,” she says. “We’d like some privacy if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” the waitress says, bowing away from Nalia, her drink tray in tow. This time when she closes the door, Grom begins immediately.

“We are appreciative that you chose to meet with us today,” he says.

Grom the diplomat. Just how appreciative he is remains to be seen, thinks Galen.

“That said, we are convening here without the knowledge or approval of the Archive council,” continues Grom.

“Are you saying this meeting is worthless, then?” Reder says.

Grom is unaffected. “I’m saying that any solutions or conclusions reached during this meeting will be treated as theoretical, until such time as it has been discussed with the council.”

Reder takes a sip of his water. “I suppose I’ll take what I can get.” His cell phone rings, then during the split second it takes for him to answer, the tune of a country song resounds through the glass-walled room. “Good,” he says after a couple of minutes. “Keep me posted.” When he hangs up, he looks at Galen. “Your friend Dr. Milligan has arrived in Neptune. He’s talking to Kennedy now.”