by Jo Zebedee
“And me?” Sonly’s voice hardened. “I’m the president of Abendau.”
“I want you to do what feels right.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want me to give it up.”
Kare reached out and took her hands. “Yes,” he said, “I want you to give it up. You’ll be a target as long as you’re connected with me.” There was a long silence and his words hung in it. “I want you to say to hell with it and stay with me. If you decide not to, we need to separate formally. No more pretences.”
Sonly’s eyes met Kare’s, and they held each other’s gaze. Lichio stood, not wanting to watch any longer, feeling excluded in a way he hadn’t in years. He cleared his throat and Sonly glanced around at him.
“I’m going to see how Kerra’s doing – it’s been a hell of a shock for her,” he said. He pulled the door closed and stopped in the corridor, thinking about the long look Kare and Sonly had given each other, as if they’d found their way back, and the jealousy was thick in his throat. Josef, where are you?
***
“Unusually subtle for Lichio, that.” Kare swallowed. “Sonly, I want you to stay with me. I love you. I should have found a way to get past where I was years ago.” She waited, and he nearly smiled, knowing she’d make him work for this. “I don’t know if I can give you what Jake Peiret offered–”
“Oh, stop!” said Sonly. “If the sex thing doesn’t happen, I don’t care. I told you that ten years ago.”
“I know, I heard. I just didn’t listen.” He moved to the edge of her seat and put his arms around her. “I can – I don’t know, turn things back? At least be a support to you. Whatever you choose to do.” He leaned his head against the top of hers. “I nearly lost you, and it was only then I was able to say I love you too much to let you go. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”
“We both are.” They sat for a moment and he fought, in the silence, the urge to pull away.
“Don’t,” she said.
He half-smiled – she knew him too well – and leaned in to her. He kissed her hair. “I won’t. I promise.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Phelps entered Sonly’s office, stepping over the body of a soldier. He counted another five dead, and two on their way to joining them, if he was any judge.
The doors to the balcony were open, allowing him to see the low parapet wall. Varnon dying would have been the best outcome. To get him to talk could take weeks – he remembered what Beck had to do last time, and it still turned his stomach. It was one of the reasons he’d wanted the bastard dead before the coup. He walked forwards, stepping over broken glass and furniture until he reached the balcony.
There, the Empress waited, her anger cold and controlled. She wasn’t to be crossed today.
“My Lady.” He bowed deeply, head down, and only straightened at her command. He moved forwards onto the balcony and looked down. As advised, there were no broken bodies on the ground. He gave silent thanks that Varnon hadn’t been under his jurisdiction.
The Empress glared at him, and he knew she’d sensed his thoughts.
“How did he get away?” he asked. Focus on what mattered – finding Varnon and hunting him down.
“The Roamers,” spat the Empress.
Varnon had come in with a Roamer. The ship had been pursued to Bendau, where he assumed le Payne was.
“The boy went with him,” she said. “Of his own will.”
Damn the boy. And damn himself for not taking action sooner. He’d known she was terrifying the child, that she was being too hard on him. Hell, even as an adult, the Empress was demanding – what must she have been like to a young, isolated child?
“Do the tribes know?” And did Varnon know what it would mean to the tribes, what the boy had done?
“Not yet.”
But they would. The boy had broken his oath. He’d be cast out, and a casting-out wasn’t something left to chance by the tribes. Baelan would be staked out to die, left on the sands for as long as it took.
Something twisted in Phelps. He’d named the boy as his son. To use him, yes. He’d created him for that. But also – he’d watched him over the years, wrestling with his power, with being an outsider in tribes where belonging was everything. Not once had the boy asked for help. Not once had he run from what he faced. To have it end this way, because he’d been too frightened to do anything but run.
Anger rose in Phelps, and he faced his Lady. She gave him no succour now, no moments of relief. She expected his obedience, in return for his silence. He met her eyes, ready to rise against her, to tell her it was over, that he could no longer serve.
Her anger hit him, cold, and he staggered back.
“You think you can leave?” She hit him again, and he gagged against the bile heaving in him. “You think, after using Kare’s daughter to gain your freedom in Abendau, I will let you go?” She stalked towards him. “She was mine to hold, my bloodline, not yours to hand back.” She beckoned and he was pulled forwards. Her hand twisted in the air and his throat constricted so he could barely breathe. “You don’t get to leave. You don’t get to do anything but serve.”
She let him go, and he fell, gasping, to the ground. He stayed on his hands and knees until his breath came back.
“Look at me, Phelps.”
He raised his head. Despite everything, he still wanted to please her. He wanted to feel her touch on him, be rewarded for what he did.
“And you will be.” A smile touched her lips, and it was his Lady of old again: imperious and strong. “Just as soon as you do your job.”
He nodded, knowing what his orders would be. Hunt Varnon down, and the boy. That was what his role was; to be her hunter. He managed to clear his throat. “My Lady, as you command.”
***
Jake pushed his food around his plate, aware his father’s eyes were on him. He set his fork down and defiantly poured himself an extra glass of wine, but didn’t pick it up. He needed a clear head for this conversation.
“Have we heard anything about Varnon?” he asked, his voice casual. He took a mouthful of meat and chewed. It tasted of cardboard. Across from him, his mother watched, her movements quick and nervous. He smiled, hoping to reassure her.
His father’s eyes narrowed. “You know the same as I do; he’s called a meeting.”
“He’s alive, then.”
Stupid. Of course Varnon was alive. His father’s harsh laugh made him wince, and he looked away, trying to hide it.
“Either that, or they’re having a séance,” said his father. “I find corpses don’t generally rally much support.” He rapped the table with his knife. “Look at me, boy, when I’m talking to you.”
Jake took a deep breath and relaxed his grip on his fork. The dark hardness in his father’s eyes made him want to sink lower into his seat. “And his wife?”
“Why do you care?”
“Well, I knew her well,” said Jake, choosing his words carefully. If he made it obvious, his father would never listen to him. “I was, after all, on your orders, screwing her for the last six months….”
“Jake…” warned his mother.
“Sorry.”
“You were under instructions to get information from her – how you went about it was your choice.” His father put his fork down, and laughed, a single harsh laugh. “You’re in love with her.”
“I’m not,” said Jake, but even to his ears the words sounded insincere. “But I’d like to know if she’s alive or dead.”
“Alive,” said his father, and relief flooded in through Jake. He’d been so sure, hearing the stories of Varnon’s escape, that she was dead. “For now.”
“For now?” Jake lifted his glass, spilling some of the wine. He gulped down what remained, welcoming the burning in his chest as he swallowed.
“That’s right. The Empress will want her revenge.” His father shrugged. “And Sonly will be with him.”
Of course she would, she had no wa
y of getting off on her own. He looked at holo-picture opposite, one of his father about his age, already head of the family. His mouth moistened; if he was head, he’d be able to take a transport and get her. Now that her husband had lost Belaudii, she could leave him.
“Did she tell you she couldn’t divorce him – no matter how much she loved you – because of her position?” asked his father, his words quiet. His eyes matched the grey of his suit, slate-hard and sure.
“Yes.” Jake took a defiant swig of wine. “It was true – he was too linked with the Abendauii Senate.”
“Jake.” His mother’s voice was firm, tinged with sympathy. “Sonly le Payne has been a political force in Abendau for a decade. She was elected in her own name, and has a big enough power base to break off with Kare Varnon anytime.” She held her hand out to him, but he pulled his away, not wanting to hear. “She chose not to do so, and we all knew why. It only took a woman to be in their company for a short while to know that she still loved her husband. She always did.”
“She’ll stand with him in exile,” his father said, seamlessly picking up the story. “She will never leave him.” His eyes were disdainful. “And certainly not for you.”
Jake pushed his chair back from the table. Was it true? Sonly had never told him she loved him. His mother’s soft words were like a lance through him: he’d seen Sonly with Varnon. Her eyes had followed him wherever he was. She laughed with him in a way she never had with Jake. The wine sloshed in his stomach, sour and sickening. “May I leave?”
“Be my guest,” said his father. “Go and moon for your lost love.” He smiled, a whiplash line of scorn. “And then get over her, because she’d never have been yours.”
Jake gave a small bow, and went to leave. He stopped to kiss the top of his mother’s head. Her hand cupped his chin and he leaned against the table beside her.
“It’s a hard time for everyone,” she said. “But Jake, you need to be careful. If anyone picked up that you had any sympathies for her....” She glanced at his father, and then back, her dark-rimmed eyes serious. “It would be bad – for you and the family. The Empress would not stand for it, no matter who you are.” She bit her lip and waited until he nodded before she went on. “We – your father and I – remember what she did to Varnon when she last had him. She paraded him as beaten – and he was. When he rose up against her, Sonly le Payne stood beside him.” She rubbed her hand over his sleeve. “If Sonly is at all fond of you, you’re an easy way of getting revenge on her. And the Empress will want revenge on Sonly as surely as Varnon.”
Silence fell in the room. Everything his mother had said was true. He had no doubt of how much the Empress must hate Sonly.
“I understand, Mother.” And he did; as an heir to a great family name, he had been brought up to put the family first, in everything. He pulled his arm away from his mother. “I would never do anything to risk the family; you know that.” He tried a smile, and it seemed to work. “And I have no intention of trying out the Empress’ torturers myself.”
“Good,” she said. “Just be careful.”
Jake walked out, keeping his back straight. He went through the kitchen, ignoring the bustling of the servants, to the courtyard surrounding their villa. The night sky was clear, the stars above Belaudii unfamiliar to him. He missed Peiretaa, with its softer skies and cooler air. Three years based on Belaudii hadn’t changed that. He climbed the wall and looked out over the city. She’d always choose her husband? He felt sick. He didn’t deserve her love. He’d let the Empress take her. It had been her husband – her bloody magician husband – who had come back to Belaudii and got her out. The dry air caught in his throat, and he coughed. She’d be right not to choose him.
He took the comms unit from his pocket. He turned the unit over and over, thinking. Would Varnon be there if he called her? He had his contact listed, too. He’d looked at it so many times, selected it and held it, wanting to tell Varnon he was a shit and to leave his wife. He’d imagined the flat voice answering, the same voice that had slapped him down at the function, hard eyes challenging him. He’d have faced that voice, the wrath of the Emperor, for her. But would he give up his birthright? The family he’d been born to lead?
He closed his fist over the comms unit. The night sounds of the city, its voices and music, carried, and he knew he wouldn’t call. His mother had spoken the truth, and Sonly le Payne had never loved him as he had her.
CHAPTER FORTY
The ocean stretched in front of Kare. The sand he sat on was damp, holding none of the silky warmth of Belaudii’s desert. He put his feet in the water, letting it lap against them, and watched a small crab scuttle away; at least it appeared more sociable than the desert lizards.
He glanced to the right. Baelan stared at the ocean, his face the same mask of unfriendliness it had been since arriving on the planet. Undercurrents of his power came and went, a reflection on the boy’s mood at any given time. It was so strong, much more than Kerra’s. Had this been him when he was ten, all power and attitude, and lost? Or had it been what his father had saved him from, this twisted mess of strands. Certainly, that had been his thought when he’d had Baelan lifted by Lichio; that his father had saved him and he should not leave his own son.
So, if he felt he shouldn’t abandon his son, why could he feel Kerra in the mesh, know she was in the rock pools and enjoying the warm water on her feet, and not his son? He cleared his throat. “Baelan.”
A flash of a glance, and a shrug of shoulders. “What?”
A charmer to the core. Kare fought not to smile at the boy’s defences or make him feel small. He put his head back, and felt for the mesh, finding the closed-off part that was Baelan and, carefully, he smoothed the circle, mending the break.
“Welcome to the Roamers,” he said.
Baelan came into the mesh. His face became less guarded, and a smile began to break. He was wrong in the mesh, all power and clankiness, but that could be fixed in time. After all, Kare was more at ease in it now, more able to hold the shifting shape and mind. With time, the boy would, too. For now, let it be enough that he knew he had a place and a people not just of Belaudii. There was a future for him that didn’t include being returned to the Empress and the tribes. Let him know he was his son, as much as Kerra was his daughter, that he had a place here. Let him know that, and let it heal him.
“Kare!” Sonly’s voice carried along the strand. Kerra walked beside her, too-long trousers borrowed from a Roamer rolled up to her knees. “Shall we go back?”
They should. It was getting late, and Sonly’s strength hadn’t fully returned. He got to his feet, Baelan along with him, and walked along the beach to Sonly. She joined him as the children ran ahead, leaving sharp footprints in the sand.
“This is nice,” said Kare. “Tell me it isn’t?”
“It is.” Sonly paused. “It’s not real, though. You can’t really stay here. We can’t.”
He knew it. This was a rest, a chance to recover, nothing more. And then he’d be back into the fray, back to trying to end the empire he hated.
“I didn’t think dissolution would work, you know,” said Sonly. “But–”
“I’ve more of the bricks in place than you thought. Say it: I’m better at politics than you thought….”
“Apparently, when you’re motivated enough.”
Two seabirds squawked and wheeled against the clouds, their calls breaking the rhythm of the sea. He almost wished he could be one of them.
She slowed a little. “You still don’t have enough of the families to be sure."
“I’ve got everyone except Clorinda, Hiactol and Peiret, and I think Clorinda, at least, will agree it if I force it through.”
“They might not as long as she holds Belaudii.”
The water started to splash against his ankles and he glanced over, checking Kerra wasn’t too far from the beach. “We’ll see,” he said.
“Would you base yourself here?
” She looked around. “If you weren’t Emperor, is this what you want?”
“Maybe.” And yet, to stay here would mean accepting he was a Roamer. What did that mean, when they’d abandoned his father and sister? It was another question he didn’t have an answer to.
She looked around and then back at him. “It’s very nice, but it’s boring.”
“I’ll get a ship – we can fly, like when I was a kid.”
“I’d kill you in a week.” He didn’t argue; she had a point. She cleared her throat. “There is something else.”
“What?”
“She knows you left on a Roamer ship.”
“Yes, she does; it was hard to miss.”
“The gas storm won’t be enough if she finds out where you are. I really believe you have to remove her. She will not rest until she’s got her revenge.”
“You mean I should kill her.”
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper, and he knew why; she’d been the one who had decided to incarcerate his mother last time. But he’d been the one who’d had the chance to kill her, who’d held her power in his hands and hadn’t taken the chance, sure if he let her powers go for the moment he’d have needed to switch his attack, she’d have taken him. Sure it would be the same as with Beck, that he’d be too weak, that she’d done too much to him, held him in her power for too long, for him to fight her. Even now, he didn’t know if he was strong enough to do it.
“What if I say I can’t face her again, that I’m not brave enough?”
“I’d say you are.”
“I’m glad one of us thinks so. You know, I said I would make myself so powerful she could never hurt me again, and I failed – spectacularly – at that. Or I said I could hide in a hole.” He nodded out at the sea. “There are worse holes than this.”
