by Kit Tunstall
It took everything he had not to reach out and take the injured hand in his, to pull out the glass and hold her until the pain faded. Instead, he regarded her impassively. “The journal is all the proof the tribunal will need.”
“Test my handwriting,” she threw out, clearly desperate. “I didn’t do anything like that.”
He ignored her protestations, too bitter to respond in a cool or unemotional manner. When he really wanted to reach across the table and pull her into his arms—though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss her or shake her—he couldn’t try to engage in verbal sparring and remain aloof. “Make the suggestion to your representative. Perhaps it will sway the tribunal.” He spoke with open mocking, knowing nothing would convince the tribunal she wasn’t involved once they saw the journal.
Madison trembled, her eyes huge in her face, as if the enormity of her situation had finally sunk in. Perhaps she’d realized her betrayal was a sin he couldn’t forgive, and she would be paying for it. Good. He refused to acknowledge the pang of regret that hit him upon recognizing her obvious fear.
“What happens now?” she asked in a scratchy voice.
He looked just beyond her, struggling to maintain a neutral tone. “A representative will be in tomorrow to help you prepare a defense, if you want to go that route. Your other option is to confess and hope for a lighter sentence.” He silently willed her to make that choice, even as he hated himself for the weakness.
She shook her head. “I didn’t do anything, so I have nothing to confess.”
He lost his hard-won control for just a moment. “You consider hopping into Briggs’s bed nothing?” Of all the things she’d done, that should have been the most trivial, but it ate at him in a way he couldn’t explain.
Her eyes widened. “I did what?”
“He told me all about what a good fuck you are, Madison, while letting it drop that you had requested extraction and were planning to flee the Federation, because you couldn’t keep up the pretense of being my companion any longer.” Tiernan feared some of his pain showed in his gaze when he asked, “How could you do this? At what point did you decide to seek revenge against me by joining the rebels? Was it the moment I threatened your family, or sometime after?”
She clamped her lips together, glaring at him. “You’ve already decided I’m guilty, so figure it out for yourself.”
He sighed. “That’s not my job. The tribunal will sort out the details.” Tiernan shook his head. “You’d do yourself a favor confessing now. If they order an interrogation, it will break you.”
She trembled, but her chin angled upward at a proud angle. “I won’t let it break me.” Her voice was cold when she asked, “When do I face the tribunal?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
Madison visibly flinched then. “That soon?”
He nodded, not letting himself pity her. She was refusing to confess and take a possibly lighter sentence, so she was bringing the suffering on herself—just as she had from the moment she chose to betray him by working with the rebels.
Her voice was thin. “What’s the punishment for treason and terrorism?”
Tiernan had to swallow so he could answer dispassionately. “Execution.”
A sharp laugh escaped her.
He frowned. “What’s so damned funny?”
“It’s ironic, I guess. When Aidan and the soldiers arrived, I thought they were there to save me from the rebels’ plan to execute me. Instead, it was only a change-of-venue.”
Tiernan couldn’t handle more of her lies. He turned away from her, striding across the room. Still, even in his hurt and anger, he couldn’t keep himself from pausing when she called his name in a plaintive tone. “What?” he asked, slowly turning.
“Please, can’t you do something? I can’t face the tribunal.”
He shook his head. “The tribunal operates independently to reduce corruption. I couldn’t commute your sentence if I wanted to.”
“But you don’t, do you?” Her eyes seemed to swim with tears. “You want me dead for what you believe I did, without any real proof.”
He started to turn again, but once more, she called his name. “What?” he asked again, letting his impatience show.
“Couldn’t you keep it from going to the tribunal?”
He lifted a shoulder. That was within his purview, but he refused to use his power as the commander to interfere with the process.
“Will you please? I’m begging you.”
The desperation lacing her tone almost moved him, but he shook his head. “No.”
She sagged forward, hugging her abdomen. “Fine. Can you at least delay my execution for a few months?” Her eyes were cold with anger, and the depth of betrayal in her expression when she looked up gave him his first pangs of doubt. “Unless you want the next Archer heir to die with me.”
Tiernan reeled back a step. “You’re lying.” How much more conniving could she get?
Madison looked away from him, shoulders sagging. “Just leave me alone. It’s for the best this way. I can’t stand the thought of you raising my baby to be a cold, unfeeling bastard like you.”
Tiernan opened the door with shaking hands, rushing through and slamming it behind him. He sought refuge in the nearest empty room, leaning his forehead against the wall as he drew in several deep breaths. She had to be lying. It couldn’t be true. His companions used the contraceptive tea. He’d seen her and Cleo drinking it several times. Not one of his other companions had ever fallen pregnant. She had to be lying, either stalling for time or hoping to convince him to pardon her crimes. If he did so, she’d no doubt suffer a “convenient” miscarriage.
Still, he had to know for certain. If she was pregnant with his baby, he couldn’t let her go before the tribunal and face death. His child was too important. He absolutely did not feel even a hint of relief at finding a compelling reason to intercede.
*****
Madison had swept off the glass into the floor and curled up on the hard table shortly after Tiernan left, finding it impossible to keep sitting upright. She wanted to curl into a ball of misery and just stop breathing. For one desperate second, she contemplated killing herself, but discarded the idea even as it occurred to her. She refused to do something so cowardly, especially with the baby in her womb to protect. Tiernan hadn’t listened, but she’d just have to make him listen. Or maybe the representative. Or perhaps the tribunal? Surely, someone would grant her a stay of execution to have his baby.
She hadn’t meant it, of course, when she’d told him the baby would be better off dead than raised by him. Despite his puzzling ability to discard everything they’d shared and believe the worst of her, she still believed he would love his child and could be a good father. Of course, letting its mother be executed could be a point of contention between him and the child as it got older, she thought scathingly.
The door opened, but she barely turned her head. It didn’t matter who was there. Only Tiernan had mattered, and he had hurt her in a way she could never have believed. He didn’t even believe she was pregnant, and he certainly didn’t believe she had been set up to take the blame as a rabble-rouser. In a way, she couldn’t blame him. After all, who stood to gain by making her appear guilty? What was the point? She was nothing, in the scheme of things, so why conspire against her? Even knowing she hadn’t had a thing to do with betraying Tiernan, and that someone had definitely planted the journal, didn’t help her believe what was happening either. She just couldn’t see a reason.
A man cleared his throat, and she finally looked closer, recognizing the white scrubs of a doctor from the hospital, though not the doctor himself. “What do you want?” she asked without interest.
“The commander said you had wounds that needed treating.” He came over to stand by the table, hovering awkwardly. “May I examine you?”
She shrugged. “What does it matter? He’s going to let them kill me. I might as well die from an infection first.”
“Please,
Miss Cole, I have my instructions.”
“And you don’t go against Commander Archer,” she said with a mix of loathing, frustration, and mocking amusement. “After all, you don’t want to end up on this table, do you, Doc?”
He cleared his throat again. “If you could please disrobe from the waist down…”
After a long moment, she sat up and rolled off the table, taking off her shoes, pants, and undergarments somewhat clumsily, due to the manacles still binding her wrists. Madison sat passively as he cleaned her wounds, closing her eyes and drawing on her dwindling inner strength each time he pushed or prodded at a cut to remove the glass.
She turned her thoughts inward, replaying the confrontation with Tiernan repeatedly in her mind. It humbled her to have implored him to save her, and even knowing she had done it for her baby didn’t ameliorate the shame of pleading. He hadn’t even entertained the idea of showing mercy, and her begging hadn’t swayed him at all. It was obvious she meant nothing to him and never had, or he couldn’t have so ruthlessly shut off any feelings for her and acted so coldly.
So lost in her angry thoughts, it took Madison a moment to realize the doctor was no longer focusing on her wounds. His hand was on her thigh, and she kicked out on instinct. No way was she going to endure the humiliation of letting him molest her on top of everything else she’d been through today. “Get away from me, you pervert.”
He regarded her with wide eyes. “Please, Miss Cole. I’m simply trying to perform a pelvic exam.”
Madison narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why?”
“The commander asked me to determine if you are pregnant, and how far along, Miss Cole.”
She sagged a bit, chewing on her thumb as she considered whether to permit the doctor to examine her so intimately. If she did, it would prove she was pregnant and offered her baby a chance of survival, if not her. If she refused, Tiernan would assume she had been lying and would allow her appearance before the tribunal to convene as planned. With an abrupt nod, she relaxed as much as she could to let the doctor perform the uncomfortable exam.
When he had finished, he wiped his hands on a white towel taken from his bag after looking around for a sink that didn’t exist in the room. “Congratulations, Miss Cole. I’d say you’re about seven weeks along.”
“Yeah, this is a joyous occasion,” she said sourly, shooting him a glare. “Now, get out. I’ve had enough of being prodded, kidnapped, dragged around, and threatened today.”
Without another word, he gathered up his kit and fled the room as though the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. Madison watched him go before stretching out on the table again, wondering how long she would have to stay in this room before Tiernan deigned to enlighten her about her fate.
Chapter Seventeen
Tiernan took the news of his impending fatherhood badly. As soon as the doctor left his office, he threw the crystal glass against the wall and cursed loudly. Seven weeks ago, he’d been practically raping her after chasing Madison through the wilderness to get her back. No wonder she hated him enough to betray him to the rebels and plot to kill him.
It made a terrible sort of sense that she had gotten pregnant then. As messed up as their relationship was, with him holding her against her will in the beginning, and her planning to kill him, it was horribly right that their child had been conceived that fateful night.
There was no question about her facing the tribunal now. He would make the journal disappear, along with the allegations against her. If anyone dared mention a word of her suspected treasonous activities, he’d make sure they weren’t in the Federation long enough to share more gossip. Tiernan would ensure Aidan circulated among the troops that any acknowledgement of her betrayal, or gossiping about the outcome, would lead to banishment from the Federation.
So, what was he going to do about her? He clearly couldn’t trust her, but knowing she was untrustworthy, wouldn’t it be possible to keep her under close scrutiny? As long as he never let himself trust her again, he could keep her. It would be safe to do so, and easy enough—especially once the child came. He already knew she’d do anything for her family, including betraying him. That protective instinct would certainly extend to her child, even though he was the father. The baby would offer leverage to control her, to keep her from ever doing something so horrible again, and allow him to finally regain complete control over his emotions and the situation.
*****
Without a way to tell time, it was impossible to know, but she estimated it was about two hours after the doctor left that guards entered the room, uncuffed her, and led her from the building through the back entrance. Another contingent waited for her, and she walked between the four men without acknowledging them. It was important to keep her head held high, and she focused on that task—along with keeping her dragging feet moving as exhaustion wore her down—on the trip back to the capitol building.
The soldiers led her upstairs, past the third floor, and she knew they weren’t taking her to Tiernan’s room. It hurt more than it should have, in light of how much had already happened between them. If she couldn’t trust him, and he obviously didn’t trust her, they didn’t need to share a room anyway. That didn’t stop her from mourning the loss of the suite, or rather, what it represented—the time when they had been happy and blind to what was coming.
She didn’t try to resist when the troops took her up to the fourth floor, and then beyond, to a steeper flight of stairs. When they emerged onto a new landing, she recognized this room as the cupola of the capitol building. Ignoring her escorts, she walked deeper into the small room. Though nicely furnished, it was clearly a prison cell, complete with bars on the windows. The large bed and antique dresser couldn’t disguise this was a room meant to hold prisoners.
When she turned around, she found the soldiers gone. Curiosity prompted her to walk to the landing, and she arrived in time to see them closing a set of heavy wooden doors that had been opened before. The definitive sound of a heavy bar sliding into place left no doubt that she was trapped in this room unless Tiernan allowed her to leave.
There were two doors in the room, and she opened the first, finding a serviceable bathroom, complete with a tub similar to the unused one in her parents’ house. She was going to miss those long soaks in his spacious bathtub. After closing that door, she opened the next one to find a small closet. Some of her clothing had been transferred, but it was all plain and serviceable. There were no fancy gowns or sexy lingerie. Only practical underwear and nightgowns occupied the shelves. There were no outside shoes at all, and she wondered with a cynical twist of her lips if they would be repossessing the leather boots she wore.
Deciding to make it easy on them, Madison shed the boots, along with her other filthy clothes, and scooped up a flannel nightgown to take into the bathroom. She ran the water hot enough to make her cry out softly when she immersed her cuts, but it was warm enough to remove the last lingering chills racking her body. She couldn’t have said confidently if they were shivers from the elements she’d been in earlier in the day, or emotional reaction to Tiernan’s iciness.
The tub was adequate, but didn’t encourage lingering, so she washed her hair, gingerly cleaned the unbandaged cuts and the rest of her body, and got out. A soft towel awaited, and she dried off quickly before slipping on the modest nightgown. Her eyes were half-mast by the time she returned to the bedroom, and she couldn’t stifle a groan at the sight of Tiernan standing near the bed, spine stiff.
“Can’t we do this tomorrow? I’m exhausted. Being kidnapped, wrongfully imprisoned, and threatened with death twice in one day will do that to anyone.” She couldn’t completely mask her resentment and didn’t particularly care if her words bordered on passive-aggressive.
He ignored her statement, watching impassively as she went to sit at the small dressing table to run a comb through her wet hair. Deliberately avoiding his eyes in the mirror, she couldn’t help a pang of regret, recalling how many times he had watche
d her perform the ritual before coming over to take the comb or brush from her hands and run it through her hair himself. That had often led to lovemaking. There would be no more of that.
“Dr. Oritz confirmed your pregnancy.”
“No kidding.” She put down the comb and turned on the bench to face him, not having the energy to cross the room, and lacking the courage to climb into bed with him still in the room. Madison couldn’t be blasé about that, and she couldn’t trust herself not to beseech him to forget all this ridiculousness and take her back to his room—or climb into this bed beside her. Knowing he would be impervious to her begging helped her rein in the impulse.
“That has bought you a measure of freedom,” he said with his own heavy note of bitterness. “You won’t be facing charges of treason.”
“How kind.” She didn’t have to feign her apathy. Either exhaustion, or more likely shock, seemed to have given her a cocoon, though she suspected it was only temporary protection.
