The Breaking

by Imogen Keeper

  He refused to play the what if game. That simply couldn’t happen.

  * * * * *

  The door to her cell opened only an hour after Ajax had left her. Far too soon. It had to be someone else. But no one ever came, except to bring her food or take it away, and dinner was still a long way off.

  She jumped to her feet.

  The red fabric of a gown rounded the door a split second before Nissa’s face appeared around the doorway.

  Feola paused, unsure how to greet the Queen Designate of her people. They’d known each other long ago, and once, she wouldn’t have hesitated to hug the woman. But now, she was a prisoner.

  Nissa didn’t hesitate, though. She crossed the room on quick feet and pulled Feola close, in a tight, warm hug that smelled like home. Like warm vines and plant life. Feola found her breath catching as she wrapped her arms around a woman she’d known for only a short time, the Queen Designate of her planet.

  A tear escaped, and she slapped it away fast before Nissa could see it. She’d never wanted to go home so badly. Back to where the ferns were red and the sea was green, and the terra beneath her feet was warm and wet and filled with life, back to where she belonged. She wanted Ajax by her side, and she didn’t ever want to leave again.

  “Do you need anything?” Nissa asked, her hair trailing down to her waist, a crimson fall.

  A million things. “No, not really. They’re treating me well, considering...”

  Nissa studied the room with wide green eyes. The bed, the chair in the corner, the dining table, the alcove with a toilet, shower, and sink. She frowned but didn’t argue.

  They sat side by side on the cot, and Nissa filled her in on all she’d missed.

  Chewing on her thumbnail, Feola thought it all out. “There’s only one thing to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We need the trial to be made public. We need your reporter in that room so every Argenti in the galaxy can decide for themselves. That way if they find me guilty of murder, the people know the evidence.”

  Nissa tilted her head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

  “What if you said since it’s an interplanetary issue involving a citizen from Triannon and her mate, that it needs to be treated as an international incident? There’s no precedent for this with a Trianni.”

  Nissa nodded her head slowly. “Especially in light of all the corruption, I could get my father to petition the Premier of Argentus directly.” She rose to her feet. “I like it. We demand a fair trial for our citizen on foreign soil, and the only way to guarantee that is to have it broadcast live so all the people of our two great nations can bear witness.”

  Feola chewed her lip. “There’s one more thing.”

  Nissa spun around, brows raised.

  “What about septusine?”

  Nissa’s mouth tightened. “No one has been able to find any connection so far to Utto or Rennie or the senator. But we haven’t stopped looking. Reyback went to Pilan looking for evidence.”

  “Tell him to talk to Shepherd. Rennie was the third scum-king. I just know it.”

  “The scum who?”

  It was Feola’s turn to fill Nissa in. She finally gave voice to the thousand suspicions lurking in her mind.

  It was too early for hope. But maybe soon.

  46

  Trust me.

  I trust you.

  “Are you ready?”

  Ajax looked up at their solicitor, Jamione, the man who would represent Feola and him before the High Convene today. They’d been working together for so long now that Ajax could read the stress in the lines around the man’s mouth, the worry in his eyes.

  He wasn’t the only solicitor working on their case, but he was the lead. There was a whole team of them, in fact, with dedicated duties, seeking evidence of corruption and fraud in the Argenti government, of connections to mafias on Pilan and several other off-shoot, ungoverned crime beds, but so far they’d found scant proof. Nothing of substance. A bulk of their defense rested on Feola’s diminutive appearance, their ability to convince the court of their version of events, and Tam and Nissa’s pleas on behalf of Triannon.

  Ajax and Feola had become beacons of hope to the Argenti people. An ideal. A Bonded pair was a sacred thing, and there were far too few in their world. Civilian hearts bled for them.

  The reporter, Childers, had done everything he could to support that image, painted them as a pair of lovers on the run from the evil and corrupted senator, but none of that would hold sway with the High Convene.

  Feola stiffened beside him on the sofa in the quarters they’d been assigned while on base. They’d been treated far better since Tam and Nissa had arrived waving Triannon bureaucracy in everyone’s face.

  “Could we have a moment?” Ajax asked.

  The solicitor nodded and backed slowly from the room.

  Feola wore the traditional garb of her people. The flowing red gown Nissa had brought would serve to remind everyone watching that she was, first and foremost, a daughter of Triannon and therefore not subject to the laws of Argentus.

  She moved in closer, pressing her nose against his neck. He lifted her to straddle his lap so he could hold her close. They’d already satisfied the demands of the Bond, so her touch was simply one of comfort.

  This was it. At the end of the day, the fifty elders, the High Adjudicators of his people, would gather together in the room that served as High Convene on Foxtrot-Thirteen. Fifty strangers would hear their case and decide their fates.

  At the end of the day, he and Feola would either exit the massive rulings chamber, free to take up their lives anywhere in the universe, or he would be sentenced to Insuractius for aiding and abetting a murderess, and she would be held for the gods only knew what. Their Bond would be broken while she awaited sentencing for her crimes.

  She shivered, and he pressed a kiss against her temple.

  Combat would feel better. This trial, though, and trusting solicitors to fight for them, galled. It was unnatural. He’d rather face Utto one on one. Man against man. It would feel so good to exact some vengeance in the ancient ways on the man who’d hurt the woman he loved. And the senator, and anyone else who stood in their way. At least then it would be something he could do. Something other than wait.

  There was nothing to say. They’d already said it all. He just wrapped her up tight in the circle of his arms and tried to memorize the feel of her so he could relive it later if this went badly, the smell of her, the sounds. His eyes drifted shut, and he took a deep breath of her hair. Sunshine and woman and flowers and Feola. He squeezed tighter, and she squeaked. A tiny musical squeak.

  And squeezed him back.

  For the thousandth time since his weapons had been stripped when they’d been taken into custody, Ajax lamented their loss. He still felt naked without them, but at least today, he’d be in good company. No one but the Guarda went into the High Convene armed.

  Ten minutes later, the solicitor led them into the darkened Rulings Chamber of the High Convene.

  Their steps echoed off the polished concrete floors like a funeral dirge. Feola’s hand shook in his. Utto and the senator were already there, dressed in the formal wear of Argentus, simple, somber black suits.

  The Tribe had already dismissed Utto from service, so he was dressed like a civilian. Ajax wore his military finery, stark gray jacket with polished silver buttons. Spiro had retrieved it for him with the help of the chiefs on S-6. A subtle showing of support from his brothers in arms.

  Reporters lined the back wall of the chamber, recording the proceedings for all of Argentus.

  Feola’s hand stopped shaking, and he glanced down at her face.

  She raised her chin and stared at her previous mate. Utto’s face reddened, mottling, the muscles of his face twitching. She held his gaze like a queen staring down the length of her nose. Ajax had never felt so proud in his life as he did at that moment. He stared at Utto as well, letting all the disgust in his heart burn in his eyes.


  It may have been a small victory, but from the resolve and hope pouring across their Bond, it felt like a major one. Feola hadn’t felt so vibrant or light since they’d turned themselves in.

  They waited in silence, on hard, black chairs, only to lurch to their feet when the adjudicators filed in with somber dignity. The entire High Convene of old men who would decide their fate.

  Shadowed beneath dark hoods, their weathered, wrinkled faces peered curiously, a rainbow of shades, sporting a wide array of facial hair. One woman stood out from the pack, face softer, eyes warmer. She looked to be about the age his mother would be now, were she alive. One of the rare women to survive the Plague of Days.

  47

  It’s go time.

  Who was honest? Who wasn’t? Who would listen to the cases and side with Senator Upranimus? Would they do so for cred or favors? Who would side with Feola and him? For decency and honesty?

  He studied their faces, trying to find evidence of corruption or dignity, and came up blank. This one had laugh lines and that one scowl lines, but what did any of that mean? It spoke to temperament rather than morality.

  Tam and Nissa filed in, as did Spiro, fully recovered from his wounds. Spiro held his hand up in a tight fist, a gesture of solidarity. Their father stood behind him, and for just a minute, Ajax held his breath.

  It was the first time he’d seen his father in nearly a year. He was a touch grayer, and the wrinkles slightly more pronounced around his mouth. He met his father’s gaze and saw nothing but love and support there. Ajax inclined his head in respect, all too aware of the embarrassing tightening in his throat. His father had never been anything but supportive.

  Finally, the admirals and chiefs who’d come to bear witness to the proceedings walked in, and last, the High Adjudicator of Argentus. Wizened and hunched, with white hair pulled back in a bun, dark, angular eyes and a cane made of polished yibani wood. The silken fabric of his robes shone under the light as he bowed his head. Everyone took their seats.

  The High Adjudicator was well over a hundred years of age. He’d presided over the High Convene for longer than Ajax had been alive. His weathered gaze wandered the chamber, lingering on Utto and the senator beside him, traveling over their team of solicitors, to Ajax and Feola.

  He didn’t flinch under the weight of that steady perusal. He didn’t look away. Just held the old man’s gaze. Feola did the same, her hand tightening on his.

  “These proceedings are highly unusual,” the High Adjudicator said. “This is the first time in nearly three centuries that media has been permitted within these chambers. Our proceedings are usually conducted in private. Today, we welcome our entire civilization, from vast places, far reaching and remote, to help us see justice served. To my fellow adjudicators, I offer the same simple comment as always. Today we seek the truth. And we seek to honor it. Nothing more. Please be seated.”

  Everyone sat, and silence reigned. A hundred bodies in a single room barely dared to breathe or shift in their seats. Someone coughed. One of the solicitors dropped his stylus.

  Utto’s solicitor spoke first. Followed by Feola’s. Then the senator’s. Finally, Ajax’s. Round and round it went.

  Witnesses were called. The Guarda who’d been present at their initial showdown at the docking bay before they fled R-2 testified that Ajax and Feola had broken the law. Samila, a friend of Feola’s from her time with Utto, testified to Feola’s strange behavior. She mentioned Feola’s fear of her mate, unexplained absences, stray bruises she didn’t manage to hide, marks for which she never had a good explanation. Healer Rillard, who had helped Ajax that day so long ago when he’d arrived in answer to her call, testified on classic behavior of the abused.

  Tam and Nissa spoke in their favor, speaking of their character, and their welcome on Triannon, the support of the people there.

  Expert witnesses were called to support Utto’s claim that Feola was a chronic liar.

  A team of doctors spoke about the dangers of septusine, and its potential uses in the slave trade, but there was no proof. Evidence of the senator’s or Rennie’s involvement was discounted as unsubstantiated.

  The adjudicators bore it all with stoic calm.

  It took force of will for Ajax to hold his body still as Feola took the chair to speak about her time with Utto.

  “It started almost immediately,” she said in her softly accented voice. She didn’t cower or mumble. She spoke clearly, with her head held high. Beautiful beyond belief. “Maybe a week after the end of our Bonding, he grew… critical. He didn’t like my hair or the way I dressed. I thought that was normal, for Argentus. I didn’t know. Bonds on Triannon are more formal. Less emotional. Less personal. So I tried to change, to fit in with the Argenti. I wanted to make a home with him.”

  Those big, yellow-green eyes, clear and bright, fixed on Utto. A wealth of questions in them. Ajax inhaled against the surge of jealousy that the man had touched her. That he’d ever once lay his disgusting fingers on her perfect skin. No matter how much of Feola he claimed for himself, Utto still had that measure of the past with her. He’d left his mark on her soul.

  “It was maybe two weeks before he hit me the first time. Not too hard. He just lost control. I could see it on his face. It surprised him. He slapped me. Hard enough for the spot to be tender and a little red.” She gestured at her cheekbone. “But nothing anyone else would notice.” Her gaze wandered the room, and Ajax followed it. She looked at Nissa and Tam. She looked at the solicitors and the adjudicators, and the reporters.

  Ajax tried to send support to her across the Bond. Her gaze shifted to him, and she smiled. Reassurance wafted his way. In the middle of all this ugliness, she was trying to comfort him.

  He’d never loved her more.

  “After that,” she said, “it became more frequent. His demands grew more difficult to satisfy. He didn’t want me to interact with anyone who might see the bruises. It was my fault I had them, he’d say. He didn’t like me to wear anything but white so he could tell if I got my clothes dirty. I think he started looking for reasons to hurt me. New ways to control me.”

  Ajax’s throat tightened at the images her words conjured. The increased power behind a single blow from an Argenti male, against a Trianni female, was all the more gruesome. Men were bigger than women—on average, maybe—but a statistical fact nonetheless. Bigger people were honor-bound to protect smaller people.

  “To punish me, sometimes he withheld serum. And then Rennie came to visit. Utto let him touch me. Touch my breasts, and…”

  A hiss reverberated around the room, as spectators inhaled against the horror of her words. A solicitor beside Ajax shook his head. Feola looked so small seated on the big chair. Their world had been built for Argenti men, with the expectation that they’d reach those proportions. Most Argenti males were head and shoulders taller than her and far wider, their skeletal structure far bulkier than her delicate Trianni frame.

  “I don’t know what happened. It’s blurry in my mind. Utto went to training, but Rennie came back. He said he was going to spend all day with me. He touched me… everywhere. I’m not sure. It just happened. I just… I didn’t even think. I had the knife in the pillowcase I’d taken to hold everything… I just… I grabbed it because I didn’t want to ever be weak anymore, and then Rennie turned away. He told me to take off all my clothes and meet him in the bedroom, and I… I just snapped. I don’t even remember moving, but suddenly the knife was there. Right in his back. He fell to the ground.” Her mouth tightened. Her eyes burned into Ajax’s, imploring, asking for him to understand. He did.

  “I killed him. I think I even meant to do it.”

  The silence stretched, winding across the room.

  Feola closed her eyes.

  Utto shifted in his chair, leaning forward to rest his blue-haired head in his hands, big fists clenched tight, beefy shoulders hunched. Even he looked appalled. The asshole had the gall to be upset about Rennie attacking her, but he didn’t m
ind hitting her himself.

  Ajax took a long, slow breath and returned his gaze to Feola, trying to offer his support as she finished her story.

  When it was over, she walked back to him, calmer in their Bond than he’d ever felt her.

  Her hand slid into his, cool and dry, right where it belonged.

  The High Adjudicator cleared his throat. “Simundo Upranimus.”

  The senator glanced around the room, face stolid and unperturbed, a gentle politician’s smile firmly in place as he rose to his feet. In tidy civilian’s clothes, a neat foppish necktie, and a jacket emblazoned with all the insignia of his public office, he looked like nothing more than a high-ranking official with a warm heart and an honest dedication to his office.

  What in the world possessed a man like that to delve into shady, illegal activities? Hubris? Greed? No, he’d been born to a wealthy family. The man hadn’t needed anything, ever, in his whole life. It wasn’t money that drove him.

  The spectators in the darkened room shifted in their seats.

  The senator’s polished shoes echoed on the floor as he marched up to the seat on which Feola had so recently sat.

  The senator’s solicitor rose, his robes swirling under the overhead lights. “Senator,” he began, voice wavering slightly. “Would you please tell us what you know of the activities of your son, Rennie Upranimus, on Pilan?”

  The senator flinched before patting his gray-blue hair. “Of course. Rennie and I weren’t as close as I’d have liked.” He glanced around the room, gaze moving steadily over the spectators, settling on the cameras at the back of the room.

  The guy was good.

  “I’m sure many of you can relate to having a child who isn’t… receptive… to one’s efforts.” He glanced down at his lap. “Nonetheless, I loved my son. Very much. There’s probably nothing he could have done that would have changed that. Not that I support or respect everything he did. He was always difficult. Strong willed, and opinionated. I don’t know if what this young lady says is true or not, but it’s possible. I won’t pretend to have known my son well enough to speak to his character. He may have tried to touch her. He may have been involved in any number of illegal activities on Pilan or the gods only know where.” The senator shook his head tightly. “But he didn’t deserve to be murdered—stabbed in the back. No one deserves that.”