by Lynn Rae
“Well, since Citizen Cara Belasco is right here, I’d love to take the opportunity to capture a digima, for my own curiosity’s sake.”
Drawing in a quick breath, Cara shuffled a half-step behind Ben’s broad back, anxiety racing through her.
“The light isn’t good here, perhaps you’d come with me to the front of the sutlery.” The annoying man kept talking, oblivious to her discomfort as he made a jerking gesture with his hand.
“She won’t. What do you want?” Ben nearly growled this last word, and Cara’s concern immediately morphed toward him. Something besides an annoying encounter delaying their time together was happening here, and her impulse to flee, well-honed by years of running, went on alert.
“Actually, Chief Zashi, I don’t like your tone.” Citizen Tarl drew himself up and tried to stare down his nose at them. Cara glanced around to find no one else was in the vicinity. She wasn’t sure if that was an advantage or a liability.
“It’s on me to manage my tone, Myltin. If you have nothing that requires my professional intervention, I’ll excuse myself.” Ben ground out the words, and Cara found herself placing a hand on his lower back. The tension between the men had increased exponentially with each second, and she could feel Ben’s muscles tighten under her fingertips.
“I actually do, since you seem determined to ignore your duty. Although, I have a fairly good idea why now that I’ve gotten a closer look at the mysterious Belasco woman.” He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head slightly to take in her contact with Ben.
“That’s enough.” Ben made as if to turn away, and the other man spoke up quickly, his voice higher pitched and excited.
“Hardly. I have nearly all the proof I need to show what these two refugees actually are. I don’t need a digima comparison now. It’s as clear as the stars in the sky.”
“What’s clear?” Ben slanted at look at the littler man from underneath his furrowed brows. Cara’s stomach sank. Could this strange person have penetrated their aliases?
“She’s obviously a La Torre. Look at her. She’s the veritable twin of the Dowager Mariyn. I can show you a state portrait. The damnable archives finally sent it to me after innumerable inquiries.” He fumbled for his device.
Cara gusted out a breath half relief and half fear. Myltin Tarl had gotten frighteningly close to the truth. Her knees wobbled, and she leaned against Ben for a second, his arm reaching around her waist to steady her automatically. The strange man noticed and raised an eyebrow but went back to manipulating something in his datpad.
“You’re wrong, Myltin. I don’t want to see it.”
“Everyone else will when I’m through. When I think of what your family did on Tellus, it makes me ill. You’re from disgusting stock, you and your brother.”
Cara shook her head once. She wasn’t a La Torre, not even close, and despite the guilt she felt whenever she thought about what her father had done to his citizenry, she knew she didn’t deserve to be punished for someone else’s crimes. Myltin Tarl’s angry pronouncements frightened her and made her worry about Mat’s safety. What if he had some conspirators circling around to the Healy house even now?
“Ben, I need to find Mat—”
“Later, Cara, we need to deal with this now.” Ben took a step away from her toward the other man and settled with his feet slightly spread, his arms hanging slightly away from his sides. Myltin Tarl bobbled his head but stood his ground. “I told you to leave this alone. They’re leaving very soon, and there’s no need to cast aspersions on them before they go.”
“But you need to arrest them, report them, prove who they are so they can be held accountable—”
“They aren’t accountable for anything.”
“No, there are still innumerable charges pending against their family. Debts to be paid. War crimes to be prosecuted—”
The other man’s voice rose in volume and pitch with every word, and Cara wanted to clamp her hands over her ears, both from his shrillness and the things he was saying. Of course there were still charges against Ignar, horrible deeds left unpunished. She and Mat had spent their lives suffering and keeping a step ahead of people with those exact same sentiments. Just because Myltin Tarl had attributed them to the wrong family didn’t make him any less of a threat.
“Spare me, Myltin,” Ben growled out as the other man let out an inarticulate cry and raised his datpad, a light streaming from its surface. Cara lost focus and blinked several times as the sudden illumination blinded her. She heard some grunts and the sound of bodies hitting each other and the ground. When she turned around, she saw something unbelievable.
Soren was on top of Myltin as the other man flailed his legs and smacked his arms in the mucky ground of the street. Her companion was silent as he squeezed his hand against the other man’s mouth as Ben leaned over them trying to separate the combatants. Cara gaped, completely shocked at what was happening in front of her. She had no idea where Soren had been or why he’d attack this unbalanced man in the middle of the street.
As Ben pulled one of Soren’s arms away, the man underneath him squealed out a horrible cry and shuddered. Her companion’s arm jerked a few times, and as Ben hauled him up, Cara saw the metallic flash of a blade and the sticky gleam of blood on Soren’s arm. Ben noticed the weapon at the same time, and he grasped Soren’s wrist and twisted hard. The older man swung his face from the man twitching and bleeding on the ground to stare at Ben from under lowered eyebrows.
“Release me.”
“Drop the knife.”
Both men growled at each other as their bodies strained. Cara shook herself from her paralyzed state and rushed closer, intent on talking to both and ending the battle.
“Stand back, Cara!” Ben shouted without lessening his hold on Soren or taking his eyes from his opponent. He kept applying pressure to Soren’s wrist which was now bent at a terrible angle. Soren let out a gasp, and his knees buckled, the knife dropping to the muddy ground where Ben kicked it away and pushed against the older man to bring him down.
“Don’t hurt him, please!”
“I’m trying not to, sweetheart,” Ben grunted as he turned Soren to lie on his stomach and brought his arms back to keep him still. Soren let out a groan, and Cara knelt next to him. His weathered face was waxy looking, and his eyes tried to focus on her face.
“Stay still.” Ben secured Soren’s wrists behind his back and left to check on the stabbed man who was eerily still a few meters away.
“Cara, where’s Mat?”
“Safe. With friends. Soren, why—”
“Listen now.” He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “I don’t have much time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen. You need to know the truth now. It’s too late.” The older man’s voice rasped and quieted. His thin eyelids flickered and closed as a breath rattled out of his throat. Out of the corner of her eye Cara could see Ben inspecting Myltin Tarl’s still body as he spoke into his datpad, calling for assistance.
Cara shook her head, sensing something was very wrong with her companion. “Ben, please help.”
“No, listen.” Soren revived and peered at her, his eyes bright again. “You and Mat aren’t Ignar’s. He substituted his children for you.”
“Of course he was our father. I remember him.” Hurting and pinching, looming like a bad dream.
“No. He was your protector. Charged with keeping you quiet. Keeping you safe. We companions were his last lieutenants,” Soren’s voice rasped and weakened as his lips trembled.
“Who are we then?” A strange sense of relief filled Cara like a cool breeze. Liberated from the spectre of Ignar Restin.
“The crown princess of La Torre, holder of all the southern reaches of Tellus.” Soren’s quiet voice filled with pride as he recited the old honorifics, and Cara grew cold with a chill of dread.
“No, Soren. I won’t. We can’t.” The impossibility of it silenced her, and she shook her head. Ben crouched next to h
er in the mud and hovered his datpad over the bound man. He shook his head and cursed under his breath as he loosed the bindings at Soren’s wrists.
“Soren. Help is on the way. Let me roll you.” Ben’s low voice reassured her, but Soren merely closed his eyes as he shifted to his back where he moaned. Cara cried out when she saw something much shinier than mud soiling his clothing. Blood coated the front of his tunic and pooled in the ruts of the street.
Ben pulled at his clothing to inspect the wound and pressed his hand to the torn flesh of Soren’s abdomen as something metallic fell from under the clothing. It was one of her small paring knives from the kitchen.
“I should have searched him more thoroughly. Damn it.”
Before she could say something to Ben, Soren spoke up again, his voice even weaker. Cara leaned closer as the whine of vehicles approaching their location filled the air.
“Your jewels. Your sisters—” Soren tightened his throat and threw his chin up as his arms shivered. Cara touched his shoulders as Ben leaned over him and called out his name. Other people began to crowd around them, brandishing equipment and bright white bandages. Ben reported what had happened in a staccato voice. A kind-faced woman turned to her and gently eased her away.
Cara was reeling. It seemed like everything had tilted and she’d slid off the planet into some other world where nothing fit together anymore. She couldn’t be a La Torre princess. Soren had just killed a man in front of her. Why did she have blood and mud all over herself? Mat was safe. Ben was unhurt. What—
Someone grabbed her arm, and she instinctively pulled away with all her strength. Twisting, she saw a young woman in a security uniform reach for her again, and Cara cried out. Strong arms wrapped around her, and she collapsed against Ben’s familiar form. He shushed in her ear and walked her away from the trampled ground and the forms of the two wounded men.
“Go with Wren. She’ll help you clean up and ask some questions. I’ll find you as soon as I can get free.”
Exhaustion dogged Ben’s steps like a shadow. His lack of energy must have been obvious to everyone at the station, because one of the patrol officers had insisted on driving him the short distance to the barracks when he left. It was so late. He wondered if Cara was asleep. He’d read her statement after Wren had stopped by his office to report she’d walked the young woman home. Whether she’d want to see him was the question.
The man who’d protected and guided Cara throughout her life was dead, and he’d been indirectly responsible. Some of the guilt he’d experienced about Soren had lifted when medical’s preliminary report indicated the man had died of a massive embolism dislodged during the struggle rather than the cuts made to his abdomen with the concealed knife. If only he’d checked him for additional weapons after restraining him, but he hadn’t had time, because Myltin was bleeding out and needed assistance. Sometimes he hated his job. All too often there was no right decision.
He reached the end of the corridor and stopped. His home was on the left, Cara’s door on the right. Thankfully, Mat was still at the Healys. He’d checked earlier and told Gina what had happened but made her promise not to mention anything to the boy until his sister decided how she wanted to handle it.
Blast it, he was going to activate her door alert once, and if she didn’t respond immediately, he’d go to bed. Not to sleep, but to lie there and replay everything that had happened that night at least four or five times, complete with alternate scenarios which would have ended better or worse for everyone involved. It seemed a cruel joke that they’d gone from confessing their feelings, almost immediately to an assault that had left two men dead and them separated for hours. Just a few minutes sooner leaving the festival, and they would have avoided Tarl altogether, and they’d now be sleeping side by side and content after celebrating their love.
He hesitated a moment before activating the sensor. His hand shook, and he clenched it in a fist as he lowered it to his side. Right, no answer, he needed to turn around and—
The door opened, and Cara stood there again in her layers of sleepwear, her hair a loose wave of gleaming brown around her pale face. How many times had he done this, come unannounced to her door to reassure himself? He shouldn’t be here, he should leave her alone, and she was leaving. His discontented thoughts left him when she flung her arms around him and pressed her soft cheek to his.
“I’m so sorry,” Cara whispered an apology into his ear, for what he had no idea.
“So am I. I’m so sorry about Soren. I wish I could have been there for you.”
“You were there when I needed you. You always have been.” He heard her sob, and he held her as tight as he dared. She’d faced so much, and it seemed he only added to her troubles, despite what she claimed. His love for her warmed and frightened him in equal measure.
“Cara, I know you’re grieving and your future is uncertain. What I told you earlier is still true and even stronger now. Whatever you want to give me, for however long, I’ll be happy to have.”
She sniffed and shifted her weight from foot to foot, glancing up at him as she did. The silence between them stretched.
“Would you stay tonight?”
“Yes.” Ben’s reply gusted out with relief. At least they would have tonight.
“Good. I’ll get you something to eat while you shower.”
Ben had eaten like a machine after his shower, and in the time it had taken her to put things away in the kitchen, he’d fallen asleep in his chair; his dark head slumped to one side. Cara dimmed the lights, pulled back the covers on the bed, and after rousing him, led him to the bedroom where he fell down on the mattress as if his battery had run out. She stripped out of her robe and pajamas, crawled in next to him, and thought about what she wanted her future to be while she struggled to fall asleep.
He was sleeping soundly when she woke, still bleary from emotional upheaval and witnessing murder the evening before. Slipping away from the confines of his heavy, warm arm, Cara activated her datpad and found a message from Gina Healy confirming when she’d drop Mat off. The appointed time was over an hour away, which meant Ben could sleep longer.
Taking a deep breath and contemplating all the scenarios she’d run through in the night, she called up the shuttle flight reservations. She and Mat were scheduled to leave tomorrow. Her current alias and her brother’s glowed there on the passenger list alongside Soren’s. What she’d always thought of as her true identity was as much a lie as Cara Belasco was.
She wanted to doubt Soren’s last confession, but some uncomfortable part of herself had always known there was something more to her and Mat’s story. The something more included more siblings it seemed, the thought of which had nagged at her ever since Soren had uttered the words. Where were they? What had their lives been like? Would she ever see them? Had they even survived the assassination?
Cara considered her new-found heritage for a few moments. She wasn’t a La Torre if she didn’t want to be. Her slate was now clean. Soren’s death meant she didn’t have to play the old game any longer. An incredible lightness of spirit filled her as she realized she wanted to let it all go; all the expectations, fears, guilt. If she left or if they stayed, she was going to be Cara Belasco forever. She’d find her sisters and introduce herself as Cara. Once Mat was old enough, he could decide his own fate, go to the academy, and return to Tellus, whatever he liked. No, not Tellus. Never there.
With a sigh, Cara reviewed the instructions for using their remote account. There might be some clues hidden in those old files. She’d been too shaken the night before to even contemplate it. She read the headers and sub files, and nothing caught her eye. It never had and perhaps it never would. Accessing the information would take time; pings out, waits for data drops in the future.
Since they’d already been hidden from her for over a decade, she’d start searching for her sisters later. Tomorrow. After she made one adjustment. Just as she hit delete, she felt a broad hand slide up the back of her thigh and cup
around her bare bottom. She heard Ben shift and then felt the warm weight of his body as he settled along her side. His head appeared over her shoulder as he glanced at the display in her hands before he nuzzled his stubbled chin into her neck. Her skin prickled at the welcome stimulation.
“Good morning.”
“And to you.”
“What are you doing?”
“Checking on Mat’s and my reservations.” His previously roaming hands went still on her back and breast.
Cara turned her head to look at his sleep-softened face. Other than his growth of whiskers she never would have guessed he had been through the previous evening’s stress. Ben was beautiful, and she loved his fine nose and intelligent eyes and gentle mouth. She only hoped she looked half as good. He blinked at her, dark eyelashes fanning against caramel skin.
“Still shipping tomorrow?”
Nerves tightened in her gut as she shrugged. “There’s something funny about that.”
He frowned and turned to focus on the data. “Is that the passenger manifest? Where are you and Mat? Are you using a new alias now? How will I find you if you use a different name?”
“No. I’m Cara, he’s Mat. We aren’t going to be anything else.” Ben’s ready assertion that he would track her down made her glow. She’d made the right choice with this man.
“But you’re not—” His voice trailed off, and he stopped scowling at the glimmering list of names on the display to peer at her.
“I canceled it.” Cara tightened her lips and waited for his response. Even if he didn’t want to celebrate it, she was glad she and her brother would have some more time here. They could always leave later if things with Ben didn’t…Cara stopped that line of thought and waited on the man she loved, the man who loved her, to say something.
His eyes searched hers, and she tried to smile. In a startling rush, Ben rolled over her, pinning her down and staring at her as if he was afraid she was going to take it back.
