by Jo Zebedee
She picked up the next filche. This one focused on Jake’s face; there was no chance of mistaking him. Behind him, she sat, naked, her eyes focused on him. She looked across the table. At least a dozen pictures, all of her, all undressed, many with Jake touching her, kissing her. Inside her. Some showed her laughing, another of a close embrace, body to body, telling the story of a relationship, not a one-off event, but something deeper.
She glared across the table. How dare he have taken these? But her anger was shrouded by fear. “Quite a collection.”
His face twisted in sympathy. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
She pushed her chair back, putting distance between herself and the images. “Where did they come from?”
“My quarters. In Abendau.”
Oh, dear lord, she was a bloody fool. She’d had his chambers vetted, of course, but only at the start. She should have known something like this was possible. She ran her gaze over the pictures again, forcing herself to face the danger. “What does the Empress want?” As if there was any doubt what the Empress would want.
“She asks that you put your considerable political weight behind her claim, that you rescind the dissolution of the empire and refute the Free Republic. If not…”
“What?” But she knew, of course she did. The value of the pictures wasn’t in what she’d been doing with Jake, it was in her relationship with Kare. It had been touted as something special and untouchable when, in truth, it had been false and used only for political advancement for years. She’d be exposed for telling lies over the years, an accusation that would leach into her reputation and leave everything she promised as empty assurances. It wouldn’t matter that she and Kare were a couple again – the lies would still be out there and evidenced.
“If you haven’t agreed by day-end, Ceaton-1 standard, the Empress will be placing these with one of the news-holos.”
He struggled to meet her eyes, his arrogance gone as if, having done the deed, he wished he hadn’t. Perhaps that was true – he, too, ran the risk of these becoming public, of his body being shown on every holo, having sex. But he was the scion of a great family – he could ride out the scandal. Ride it out, yes, but he’d never be unscathed by it. Even if his family’s value went up on the basis of his actions, his never would. It might even leave him unable to lead his family – and yet he had still done this. She knew whose hand lay behind such unquestioning loyalty. Her jaw tensed – the Empress would not rely on a simple scandal to bring Sonly down.
“Along with some copies of messages forwarded to me,” said Jake, confirming her fears. “Some personal in nature. Some... more political, shall we say.”
She pushed her seat back. “You received no political information from me.” She was a fool, yes, but not that much. Nothing left her office to uncleared sources, nothing at all.
He raised an eyebrow. “No? That’s unfortunate, as I have evidence.” He tapped one of the pictures. “And I don’t think anyone will question it when they see the nature of our relationship.”
His father was the Empress’ closest ally. She scanned the table, taking in the full implications. A sexual scandal she could ride out, however unpleasant, but indications of political impropriety? That was another matter. She lifted a particularly revealing picture of her, and stared into her own eyes. They looked back, dreamy and relaxed, unthinking of this betrayal. It shimmered under tears of anger. “Why do you have them? It’s over between us, why did you keep them?”
“I never wanted it to be over. I wanted to hold on to what we’d had, I suppose, in one small way.” He had the grace to redden. “They were only for me.”
“Porn.” She stood, revulsed. “You used me for porn?” But even as she said it, she knew that hadn’t been at the heart of these images. Not with the choice of pictures he’d made – of her, shadowed and half-asleep, of her arms stretched, like a cat, her fingers entwined in his.
“No.” His voice carried an edge of desperation. “Memories.” He reached for her. “I love you. You know that, you’ve always known that.”
She strode to the door. “None of this is about love. It’s about having something I didn’t give you the right to have.” She opened the door. She needed him to go now, before she became so angry she couldn’t think straight. That was a luxury she couldn’t afford. “You’ve done your dirty work. You can get out.”
“Sonly...”
She jerked her head. “Leave.”
He walked to the door, his back straight. He faced her. “The Empress means it, you know.”
“I’m sure of it. I think you’ll find I know the bitch better than you ever will.” Something crossed his face, a fleeting look of anger at her reference to the Empress, and it all made sense. The poor bugger had been pulled under her spell. He had no hope now. She knew that from Eevan; her brother had grown so corrupted by the Empress’ touch he’d destroyed everything he’d once believed in, the group their father had built, and betrayed everyone he loved.
The part of her that had lain with Jake, had enjoyed his company and attention, felt sorry for him, sorry enough to almost reach for him. She glanced back at the table; he’d come to ruin her, without showing any backbone of resistance. If he loved her, really loved her, he could have resisted. She knew it was possible: she’d done it. Her thoughts hardened. “Get out.”
He left, and she went back to the desk. She picked up one of the photos. It wasn’t blurred, or deniable, it was only her. She was ruined whatever she did. A harlot with a cuckold for a husband – a cuckold on whose name and reputation they were hanging a large part of the republic’s support – or a politician who didn’t believe enough in her father’s dream to front the republic, who would endorse her enemy instead. Who would give her enemy what they needed to destroy the republic and embed the Empress’ position. Because she had. She may not have sent the messages he claimed to have – and no doubt could produce – but she had still given them this opportunity.
Her mouth filled with a bitter taste, one she tasted rarely, and one she hated. She was beaten. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. She could hand back the republic and hide the pictures or she could watch her career be ruined by the news-holos, who had always claimed she was hard and cold. Now they’d know: cold enough to have an affair on the husband who’d needed her, a torture victim with all the ensuing press coverage about what that had done to him. A woman so weak, she’d give her lover all the secrets he asked for.
She pulled out her communicator and stared at it. The code she needed to call and stop this becoming public was clearly written on the envelope. Her hand hovered, as she went through every option again. Decided, she stabbed the unit and waited for a response.
“Kare,” she said, and her voice only wavered a little. She pushed her hair back from her face, and looked once more along the length of the table at the pictures sent to destroy her. She squeezed her eyes shut and said, “I have something to show you.”
***
Kare set the final picture down, his face as impassive as when Sonly had first told him. The only sign of emotion was a tightening along his jaw; otherwise, when he met her eyes, his face was closed, a mask.
“It’s my fault,” she said. The words were weak. And repeated for a third time. “I – I didn’t know he’d taken them.” As if that made any difference. She’d known what she was doing.
“I’m sure you didn’t.” He stretched his arms in front of him, his fingers laced together, until he gave a slight grimace. “You’re far too clever to have trusted him with these.” He didn’t point out she hadn’t been clever enough to stop them being taken. “Your plans?”
She wanted him to tell her what he thought, to get the worst of his reaction over, but he crossed his arms, waiting, and she didn’t ask, too frightened about what he might say. Scorn she could face, or anger, but anything softer, his hurt....
She bit back her questions and said, “I can’t let your mother blackmail me. Otherwise, everything we
try to do with the republic will be blocked by her.”
“Yes.” His words were flat, his face still. Etched lines traced around his mouth, ones she hadn’t seen for weeks. She waited, sure he’d go on, but he just sat in silence. Damn him; he could outwait anyone.
“Kare, say something,” she said, finally. Anything had to be better than this silence. She reached her hands over the table, but he didn’t move to take them. “Say you hate me, that I disgust you. Say anything.”
“What do you want me to say? Well done?” His eyes blazed, but she faced him, not flinching.
“Tell me what you think. How you feel.” A sick feeling settled in her stomach. She wanted him to admit it hurt, so she could embrace his pain and find a way to—
What? Make it better? She looked over the photos again. There was no way to make this better. If it had been him leaning over another woman the way Jake did her, with that sort of intimacy, she’d never find a way to make it better. She looked down at her hands, blurred under tears, and couldn’t find a way to face him again. She heard him get up and didn’t try to stop him, heard him cross the room to the door.
“Kare,” she said, finally, her voice small. He had stopped with his hand on the door, his back to her, straight and tense. “I’m sorry.”
He turned and his face wasn’t masked anymore, but raw with pain.
“How do you think I feel?” he husked. He paused, searching her face. “Knowing I have no right to say anything about it, that you weren’t with me at the time.”
“Kare….”
“It hurts.” His voice sounded ripped from him. “Like you would never know.” He nodded at the table. “Do what you need to. Publish and be damned. Hold your head up and ride it out. I hope the prize is worth it.”
The door slammed behind him, leaving a silence more accusing than his words.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kare strode away from the boardroom, waving his security team back. It had taken every bit of his self-control to stop himself hitting out at something, anything, but he’d seen the look on Sonly’s face, how frightened she’d been, how unsure of his reaction. Hitting out wasn’t going to help things.
He turned the corner, his breath tight, his throat constrained. He’d known what had happened between Sonly and Peiret, of course, but he’d told himself it hadn’t meant anything. The pictures told a very different story. It hadn’t been the actions that had cut through him, but the intimacy between her and Jake. Her trailing hand on his chest, in one of them, their legs entwined, casual and knowing of each other.
He had to stop and lean against the wall. That little bastard, Peiret, would let the pictures be used against Sonly. He must have known Kare would see them eventually – if the lad was stupid enough to believe she’d accede to such pressure, he’d never really known her. He would lie about Sonly – about what lay at the core of her, her honesty, her integrity – to bring her down. He would do that despite having known her, in the way only a lover could.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. It shouldn’t matter what Sonly had done. They’d been separated; he’d had no right to ask her to be faithful.
Another deep breath, but his anger still built. Peiret was going to ruin her because she didn’t want him. The brat of a great family, accustomed to getting his own way in everything, was using Sonly like a toy that didn’t work anymore and could be discarded and ruined.
Kare pushed off from the wall, ignoring the small voice telling him to calm down. All his life he’d done what he’d been told, and constrained his own responses. He’d spent ten years in the stuffed palace of Abendau, never admitting his true feelings. A decade before that, in the Banned, he’d jumped to the rebels’ tune and made himself the heir apparent they needed. His mother had taken him and ruined him because she could. He’d paid her price with blood and pain. This time he wasn’t going to do what was expected of him; instead, he’d do what he wanted.
He stormed into the guest accommodation wing and sensed where Peiret was. The mesh came alive under his mind, alert to his mood, and he left it open; an audience would be more than welcome. He pushed through the heavy door into the luxury section, past guards who didn’t stop him – even now, he out-VIPed anyone on Ferran. Peiret may have used a false name to get in to see Sonly, but he obviously wasn’t slumming it. He reached Peiret’s door and stopped outside. One last chance to walk away. It would be the right thing to do, the political thing.
He blasted the door so hard it cracked off the wall behind. The noise reverberated through the corridor; the guards at the entrance would surely have heard it.
He strode into the room. Comfortable surroundings, the best available for the brat. He’d never known a prison cell, running with rats, so cold it was another pain amongst the rest. Or a quiet room in a rock-hewn cavern, a capsule of a heritage denied his dead family. Peiret had known only prestige all his life, the weak-boned bastard, had lived in palaces, not been chased across space in a rickety freighter.
“Captain,” said Kare. “I’ve had the chance to look over your calling card.”
Peiret got to his feet, outrage pouring from him, and just the tiniest edge of wariness. Not enough, not nearly enough. The sound of booted footsteps came from the corridor. Kare slammed the door and sealed it.
“Get out,” said Peiret. “I didn’t ask you to attend me.”
Attend? Kare Varnon had attended no one in his life, and he wasn’t starting now. “My wife tells me you’re intent on blackmail.”
Peiret’s face changed, became weasel-like. “It’s not my fault.” He licked his lips. “My father gave those pictures to the Empress.”
“You’re a little bastard.” Kare stepped forwards and Peiret flinched back.
“Unlike you, I was man enough to give her what she needed,” he said.
Bastard. But finally he was straightening and facing Kare. Good, it beat kicking hell out of someone helpless.
“And she enjoyed me,” said Peiret. “Couldn’t you see it in her face?”
Gods, yes. Kare grabbed him by the collar. “I saw it. It was no worse than I’ve carried in my mind for months.”
The younger man tried to wriggle free. Kare held him, grim and firm. Voices came from behind the door, orders to open up, hard knocks on the metal, growing harder.
“You can’t hurt me,” said Peiret. “I’m an heir to a great family, you’re the Emperor, you daren’t lay a finger on me.”
Kare laughed. “The only thing I am is King of the Roamers, and they won’t stand against me in this.” A swell in the mesh confirmed they absolutely weren’t standing against him. He let Peiret go, stepped back, and whipped his hand across the other man’s jaw, knocking him against the wall.
Peiret brought his hand up to his chin, astonished. “You can’t do that! Guards! Guards!”
The door rattled and nearly gave. Kare took Peiret by the collar of his uniform and lifted him. He let him hang for a moment, legs just off the ground, kicking, and then brought his knee up, hard, in a move worthy of Silom. In fact, he was sure he’d learned it from Silom – how to hit hard with precision. He let Peiret go, and he crumpled to the floor, groaning.
“I think you’ll find I can do it,” said Kare, the words squeezed past clenched teeth. He walked out, past the guards, and didn’t look back. He wasn’t any calmer. But he did feel better.
***
A soft knock on Kerra’s door, so soft she wasn’t sure it was a knock at first, made her set her book to the side. “Come in.”
Her mum entered, closing the door carefully behind her. When she turned, her face was pale and eyes puffy. “Am I interrupting you?”
Kerra’s stomach did a small somersault. Her mother never looked less than polished when there was a chance, even a small one, that someone might capture an image of her, let alone wander through the Ferran hub dishevelled. “No. Go ahead.”
Her mum sat on the bed beside her. She crossed her arms, as if closing herself off, and hunched fo
rward. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Kerra knew that tone of voice. This wasn’t going to be good. She wished she’d pretended not to hear the knock on her door rather than have to hear whatever had made her mum look so… so…. She took in her mum’s stance, her turned-down mouth. So beaten.
Her mum took a deep breath. “The Empress wants me to refuse the role of leader of the republic.”
That was all? “We knew that ages ago. You’re too popular. Dad told me she must be trying to find a way to force you out.”
“She found it.” Mum leaned forwards, but she kept her arms crossed so she was all thin angles, like if she moved she might break. “Kerra, just before the coup, things weren’t good between me and your father.”
“I know.” Things hadn’t been good between her parents as far back as she could remember. It was hardly news.
Her mum went red. “I… I had a relationship with someone else.”
Kerra’s eyebrows went up, right into her hair line, making her forehead tighten. This, she hadn’t known. She didn’t know what to think, but managed to ask, “Who?”
“Jake Peiret. He was in the army, and he’s one of the gr—”
“I know who he is.” He’d come to the palace a couple of times, and had chatted to her once. He’d been cute, she remembered, someone she sort of fancied. To think he’d been with her mum. Her stomach churned, loud in the quiet room.
“At the time, your dad and I had agreed to split. We weren’t a couple. I want you to know that.” Mum finally uncrossed her arms and ran her hands through her hair. “The thing is, there are some pictures of me and Jake. Together.”
“Kissing?” Kerra didn’t want to know this. Mum kissing her dad was bad enough, but someone young enough to be in a holo-collection was disgusting.
“Worse than that.” Her mum looked at her feet. “We are in bed together. I have nothing on.”
Kerra shunted down the bed, away from her mum. She shook her head, not quite believing it.
“Those pictures have been used by the Empress.” Her mum raised her head and looked straight at Kerra. The blushing had gone, replaced by a coldness Kerra knew well. It was the same coldness her mother had carried when running her campaign for the Senate in Abendau; Mum had decided she was going to get something, and nothing or no one would change her mind. “If I do not step down and put my support behind her, she will publish them.”
