by M. K. Wren
When at length she concluded her story, he rose and paced the floor, taking time to consider it. Finally, he stopped, facing the windowall. It looked north, away from the city; only a few clusters of lights dotted the blackness.
He was profoundly grateful for Adrien’s intervention; she probably had saved Alexand’s life. She’d also shown commendable discretion and averted a possible scandal: the first born of DeKoven Woolf, indirect heir to the Chairmanship, indulging in an illicit drug. Or so it would be told. He turned, studying Adrien, who still waited silently, unmoving and apparently unmoved.
“Adrien, are you quite sure it was Julia who put the eladane in Alex’s glass?”
She nodded, and for the first time a hint of emotion flashed in her eyes: a deep, chill contempt.
“Yes, my lord, I’m sure. Unfortunately I wasn’t sure—or, rather, I didn’t understand what I’d seen—until after the fact. There was a distraction, but I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and an exchange—no words, only gestures—between Julia and Alton. It was his idea, of course, but she was closest to Lord Alexand.”
Woolf sighed and returned to his chair. In one sense Adrien had shown a dangerous lack of discretion. She’d left Alton, her sanctioned escort, to accompany Alexand—alone. Lectris wouldn’t be considered a suitable chaperon. The gossip-mongers could fabricate out of that a tale that would destroy her reputation, and no First Lord would consider her as a bride for his son; the Robek match would never take place, and that Directorate alliance was vital to Loren Eliseer.
“Adrien, don’t you realize that if any of this gets out you’ll suffer more than Alex. Most people will choose to believe he took the eladane voluntarily, and that will be damaging to him, especially coming on the the heels of—” He stopped, frowning. “But it will be far more damaging to you.”
Her chin came up, and her black eyes fixed unflinchingly on him. “And far more damaging to my House, my lord. I’m well aware of that. But when I followed Lord Alexand to the roof, he was in his ’car determined to take off, alone. I knew he wouldn’t call anyone to help him and that the risk of someone seeing and recognizing him, and recognizing his drugged state, would only increase if I tried to detain him there. I knew he was incapable of getting home safely by himself and, above all, I knew he needed a doctor. I didn’t know if he was sensitive to eladane. I had to weigh the risks to my reputation against the risks to his life.”
Woolf smiled ruefully at that calm declaration. “Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m deeply grateful to you, but I can’t understand why he wouldn’t call someone to help him.”
“Who would he call, my lord?”
Woolf shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t know. Hilding—someone. It doesn’t matter who.”
“But it did to Alexand. You must remember he wasn’t thinking clearly; he couldn’t.”
“I suppose it’s unreasonable to expect him to think the problem out logically in his state, but I—” He paused, then came to his feet again. “Why didn’t he call me? Would that take so much logical consideration?”
She said quietly, “Perhaps he thought he’d already caused you embarrassment enough for one day.”
Woolf turned abruptly, stung by that. “I assume you’re referring to the Alber incident?”
“Yes.” The response was flat, uninflected.
He said coolly, “My lady, Alexand has never done anything to cause me embarrassment, and I will not waste so much as a moment’s thought on Karlis Selasis’s crude allegations.”
At that she smiled, an engaging smile that put him off balance.
“I’ve always known you to be an extraordinary man, my lord, and it’s borne out in the fact that you aren’t embarrassed. Only an extraordinary man could overlook the misunderstandings and gossip this has caused.”
Woolf replied tightly, “One can’t be bonded to public opinion, my lady.”
“But too many men in your position are. I’m pleased for Lord Alexand’s sake that you’re the exception. His behavior at Alber might seem foolish, and it was a hopelessly futile gesture, yet it showed great humanity and even courage. One might be proud of a son capable of that.”
“Proud?” The incredulous word slipped out, carrying a bitter emotional charge. He saw her ingenuous smile turn faintly ironic and realized he’d been deftly maneuvered into a revelation he hadn’t intended to make.
Will you bother to ask me why, Father?
Woolf turned to the windowall, away from her probing gaze.
Of course, she couldn’t be expected to understand all the political ramifications of Alexand’s “futile gesture,” still . . . “Tell me, Adrien, are you proud of him?”
“I . . . would be proud of him, yes, even recognizing it as a foolish act, because it was a humane act, and . . . perhaps because I’ve always had an overactive imagination. So Mother tells me. Strange how people of little imagination fear it. I saw the newscasts this evening, my lord; the scenes from the Alber uprising. The ’casts show so little, but I could imagine what it was really like. Not the full scope of it—that would take more than imagination—but enough. Enough to understand why Alex . . .” Her dark eyes closed. “He’s not a soldier, my lord.”
Woolf moved toward her, covering the space between them so silently, she didn’t seem aware of him. He asked softly, “Adrien, does he still love you?”
She looked up at him, the contained calm shattered, as vulnerable as a child learning grief, as stunned as if he’d struck her.
“Oh, please, my lord . . .” She turned away, trembling, one hand pressed to her mouth, and Woolf couldn’t even ask her forgiveness; he didn’t trust his voice. This was the price of a political victory. Alexand was still paying it, too; it was only now that he understood this. Adrien’s grief revealed his.
The only bride for Alexand. It had been so right; everything about it had been right, until political expediency intervened, and now they would be bound for their lives in the chains of matrimony that were for the Elite unbreakable—part of the bitter price of power—bound to Alton Robek and Julia Fallor, who were arrogant and witless enough to play games with an illegal and potentially lethal drug like—
He stiffened. Holy God, what was wrong with him? Had he lost his capacity to think? Life-and-death games with an illegal drug, and he stood moaning and muddling. Selasis would never have wasted so much time, given this set of—
“My lord?” Adrien was looking up at him, her composure restored, but when he didn’t respond, she frowned uneasily. “My lord, forgive me if I’ve distressed you.”
“No, my lady.” He took her hands and gently pulled her to her feet. It’s for me to ask your forgiveness. Your parents will be worried about you. I’ll take you to the Robek Estate.” He pulled out his pocketcom as he started for the bedroom door. “I’ll have my ’car brought to the roof. Have you a face-screen?”
“I—why, yes, but you needn’t be concerned about me.”
He paused at the door and looked back at her. “Adrien, you may have saved my son’s life tonight, and I intend to do everything in my power to see that you don’t suffer for it. The first thing I must do is see you to the Robek Estate safely and explain the situation to your father. And while I’m there, I have something to say to Trevor Robek. Now, excuse me a moment. I must leave a message with Rich.”
She could only nod numbly, too drained to make sense of his intent, purposeful attitude. Lectris stared as the door snapped shut behind Woolf, then looked over at her anxiously.
“My lady?”
She managed a smile to reassure him. “It’s all right, Lectris. Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.”
6.
Elise Galinin Woolf noted the time as she slipped into his bedroom. 11:45. It was unusual for Alexand to sleep so late. But Dr. Stel had given him a strong sedative last night, and yesterd
ay had been a bitterly exhausting day. Alber was enough, but the incident at the float . . .
She stopped by the canopy post at the foot of the bed and looked down on her son, his features, in sleep, in a rare state of relaxation. Twenty-one, she thought, already a year past Age of Rights. And yet she wondered if a mother could ever really see her sons as men, if she could ever look at Alexand without seeing the child he’d been, the infant, and even the unborn being whose first stirrings she’d felt within her womb. For Phillip it was easier; a father sees the man in his son from the beginning, and his arrival at adulthood is a fulfillment of expectation.
She closed her eyes, thinking of Rich, of the expectations that would never be fulfilled. That inevitable failure made Alexand’s arrival at adulthood infinitely important. But he must never know how important; that was too great a burden to cast on his shoulders.
She heard the change in the pace of his breathing, and a smile curved her lips. He stirred, pulling in a deep breath, then sat up abruptly. He didn’t seem to recognize her at first, then he relaxed.
“Good morning, Mother.”
“You’re almost too late for that greeting.” She went to the windowall and turned off the glass shading; the midday sun flooded the room. “That should be a shock for you. Shall I page Tuck?”
“No, I don’t need Tuck underfoot.” He rose, took his robe from a chair by the bed, and pulled it on as he joined her at the windowall. “What time is it?”
“Nearly noon.”
“Holy God, why didn’t someone call me?”
“Why should we have called you? You needed the sleep, and there was no reason to disturb you. Alex, how do you feel? I’m so very sorry about last night.”
He hesitated, then, “I seem to be entirely recovered. That gown is very becoming, Mother. Blue is always your best color. And the chaplet is new, isn’t it?”
She touched the golden band, cast in the shape of delicate, intertwined vines, that confined her lambent hair.
“Yes. Phillip had it made for my birthday.” She was well aware that he was putting her off, but she’d learned patience with both Alexand and Phillip. “Will you have some tea or caffay with me?”
“I’d enjoy that. Have something sent up while I prepare myself for what’s left of the day.” He turned and started for the bath.
“What would you like?”
“Oh, tea, I think. Perhaps some Black Shang. It’s bracing, if nothing else.”
“Very well.”
Elise filled a cup from the platinade pot and offered it to him as he sat down beside her in the oriel window alcove. He tasted the tea and grimaced.
“Bracing; that’s the only word for it.”
She leaned back, watching him over the rim of her cup. He was fully dressed now, and outwardly relaxed, but his eyes were narrowed with a slight frown.
“Mother, I want to talk to you about . . . Alber.”
“Alex, you don’t have to explain yourself to me under any circumstances, and I talked to Rich last night; he told me what happened, and I understand entirely.” She sighed and frowned into her cup. “I’m far more concerned about what’s happening between you and Phillip than I am about the Alber incident.”
He looked at her sharply. “Nothing’s happening between us. I didn’t expect him to be happy about this.”
“But you expected something more of him than he offered. It was an error for Phillip to confront you last night, but he wasn’t thinking too clearly.” She paused, watching her son, seeing the shadow of regret haunting his eyes. “Phillip is a remarkable man, but he’s only human. I don’t know if he’ll ever fully understand your decision at Alber, but I know he wants to see you happy. He may not understand what you really need of him, but he’ll bend every effort to give you what he thinks you want.”
“I know, Mother. I should talk to him now—or is he still busy playing the attentive host?”
“He leaves that to me. But he’s been quite busy with something more important than hosting.”
Alexand raised an eyebrow, then picked up his cup. “Busy with what?”
“The usual flurry of postholiday business.” She sipped her tea, smiling privately. “But that doesn’t come under the heading of something important. Actually, he started the wheels turning on this particular matter last night. First, he talked to Loren Eliseer, and later to Trevor Robek, Charles Fallor, and Lord Cadmon. He intends to protect Adrien. She took quite a risk in seeing you home safely, and Phillip is duly grateful.”
A hint of color came into his cheeks at Adrien’s name. “And I’m grateful for his concern for her.”
“That was only one of his objectives. Oh—by the way, there’s an important piece of news you were in no condition to comprehend last night, and Phillip didn’t find out about it until after he’d taken Adrien to the Robek Estate. It seems that float was raided by a Conpol Narco squad half an hour after you left it, but before Alton and his friends made their exit.”
Alexand’s cup clattered into the saucer. “A raid on a float? For the God’s sake, Conpol never wastes time with that sort of thing; not in the upper levels of the Outside.”
She shrugged. “Phillip was surprised, too, so he called his man in—that is, Commander Bary of the SSB. There was an anonymous tip that eladane was involved. Conpol couldn’t ignore that.”
“Did this anonymous tip include the fact that the eladane was in the possession of Trevor Robek’s son?”
“No, and I gather it was rather awkward for everyone concerned. Poor Trevor. He deserves better than Alton.”
“Where did the tip come from?”
“No one knows. It was a taped audio call; a patched tape, and there was no VP ident on file for the voice.”
“Larynx alteration, probably. But who . . . Selasis?” He frowned. “No, he wouldn’t take that tack to discredit Robek. Karlis makes him too vulnerable for a counterattack on those grounds.”
“True, but don’t scratch the gold on this gift for gilt, Alex.” She smiled, finding it difficult not to laugh aloud.
“Yes, I suppose I should be grateful Adrien and I were out of the float before the raid. Father had enough . . . shame at my hands for one day.”
“You might have other reasons to be grateful. Considering that eladane was involved, there could be all sorts of repercussions, especially for Alton. And another thing: Adrien is sure it was Julia who put the eladane in your drink—at Alton’s suggestion, of course—in spite of your clearly expressed refusal to take it. A serious legal case could be built on that alone.”
He studied her a moment, then said flatly, “But no case will be built on it.”
“Probably not, but it gives Phillip a telling lever against Charles Fallor. After all, Julia’s pristine reputation is important to him if he hopes to make an alliance with a major House.”
Alexand looked at her intently, a stillness about him, as if he were holding his breath.”
“Fallor? But he already has—Mother, what do you mean?”
She took time to sip her tea, then put the cup aside. “Fallor is in hard straits financially right now, and he needs a strong House alliance. He’s looking to Julia to make that alliance, and up to this point he’s had a choice: Woolf or Selasis. But Selasis has apparently given up on Fallor and is concentrating on Shang; Janeel Shang, Lord Sato’s granddaughter. At any rate, Julia’s imprudent behavior has backed Charles into a corner, and Phillip may get what he’s asking for.”
“And . . . what would that be?”
She laughed softly. “Oh, Alex, I think you know. He’s asking for your freedom. Freedom from the obligation to Fallor; freedom to make the alliance with Eliseer. He’s asking for Adrien for you.”
He rose and went to the window, putting his back to her, and Elise sighed; she could have predicted that.
“Don’t, Mother. Please.”
“What, darling? Give you a hope that might be crushed?”
He made no response, and after a moment she rose and went to him, feeling the unconscious tensing of muscles as she rested her hand on his arm.
“Alex, I’m going to give you a bit of motherly advice. I thought you had courage, but now I wonder. It takes courage to embrace a hope, because it is by its very nature susceptible to destruction. If it weren’t, it would be a fact, something inevitable or immutable. Hope is a great deal like love; to enjoy its bounty, you must make yourself vulnerable to the pain of disappointment, but it would be a sterile existence with neither love nor hope.”
He closed his eyes, and she felt the relaxation of his body, saw at length the mask of self-containment slip away. Finally, he took her hand and looked down at it, at the betrothal ring Phillip had put on her finger so many years ago. Ruby for DeKoven Woolf; topaz for Daro Galinin.
“And I can’t live without hope.” He seemed to be speaking to himself with those words. Then he looked up at her. “Good advice, Mother. I’ll remember it.”
She laughed and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Alex, this hope won’t be crushed—I know it!”
He laughed with her, lifting her off her feet with the exuberance of his embrace. She blinked against the tears, savoring the welcome sound of his laughter. How long had it been?
When he released her, he seemed a little self-conscious at his enthusiasm, but the light didn’t leave his eyes.
“Well. Have you any idea when I might know if this hope is to be realized?”
“It will be decided in the next few days. Phillip must still make sure Fallor doesn’t fall into Orin Selasis’s hands. He might change his mind about Janeel Shang if Julia’s loose, so to speak.” Then, seeing his frown, she added, “But Phillip doesn’t intend for her to stay loose.”
