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Sylvia rolled her eyes. “And how do you decide who gets in? How is that not playing God?”
“Not God, but perhaps we are acting as one of the fates. This is hardly a new idea. In the past, artists who were chosen by patrons flourished, while those without either followed their passion and starved or gave up on their art. The Masters’ Admiralty is the ultimate patron.”
“But it’s not just art, is it? You probably have people in politics. You’re trying to control governments.”
“Lobbyists,” Hugo countered.
“Wait, are you two arguing or having a bloody academic debate?” Lancelot asked indignantly.
They ignored him.
“The activities of lobbyist are regulated and controlled.”
Hugo scoffed. “You surely do not believe that?”
“I think that democracy is a work in progress and—”
“England has been in upheaval,” Hugo cut in. “They have suffered greatly from the attacks by Alicia and the mastermind. Because of that, the English territory has not been able to do what it has always done, which is to stabilize the governments of the countries in the territory. You see the result of that. Great Britain is, how do you say, a dumpster fire.”
Sylvia couldn’t help it. She laughed.
Lancelot narrowed his eyes. “Watch it.”
“I am wrong?” Hugo asked.
“Well, no. But watch it.”
Sylvia cleared her throat, then asked softly, “If what you do is so noble, why remain a secret?”
“The trinity marriages,” Hugo replied. “Even today, we would be judged, shunned.”
“And why do you have those?”
“Stability. Protection. A stool will stand with three legs, but will fall with two.”
“Or, it’s so men could arrange to get themselves two wives,” she shot back.
“The person who will arrange my marriage, the admiral of France, is a woman. And for the record, I was raised by my mother…and two fathers.”
Sylvia took a breath. She might be a romantic, but she wasn’t naive. Alicia was the one who’d taught her how to see the world for what it really was. How strange that Alicia had been the one who couldn’t see that her objection to such an organization was naive. The world would never be an even playing field.
“I understand,” she said softly. “And it makes sense that you were both recruited. You’re brilliant and wonderful.”
Hugo leaned forward, taking her left hand. His gaze—so blue and intense she wanted to both turn away and to sink into the intimacy of the moment—never left her face. “If you were born in Europe, you would be a member.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lancelot’s face twist in an expression she couldn’t read.
Knowing that she would have been one of them both satisfied her ego and made her heart ache at the loss of something she hadn’t known she wanted until moments ago.
If the world were black and white, there would be only two sides to this issue—for or against the Masters’ Admiralty. But the world was shades of gray, like her beloved charcoals, and though some part of her railed against the idea of a powerful organization that could make decisions without oversight, she was enough of a realist to know that was how the world worked. The Masters’ Admiralty was no different than a dozen other institutions that acted as barriers and gatekeepers in society.
“That’s why you’re in Charleston. You were looking for Alicia. And that’s why you came to me. Because you thought I could lead you to her,” she summarized.
Hugo’s smile faded as he sat back. Lancelot crossed his arms.
“Yes,” Hugo said softly. “As a result, you were kidnapped and hurt, and there are not words to express how much I regret our actions.”
“Except the sex. We don’t regret the sex,” Lancelot said.
