Shades of Empire (ThreeCon)

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  Antonio leaned back in his chair and decided to trust his new adviser. After all, if Sergei plotted treason, he would never have revealed what he knew. It was just as well. No one else understood Antonio’s greatness or spared him from all the petty decisions and duties that Baron Urquart and his like kept imposing. “You’re a man of great perspicacity, Sergei.”

  Paznowski stood and bowed from the waist. “You honor me, Excellency.”

  “If I ever find that you’ve betrayed me,” Antonio said, still smiling, “I’ll cut your balls off myself and watch you bleed to death with great pleasure.”

  “That day will never come, Excellency,” Paznowski said with noticeable emotion. His eyes strayed over Antonio, lingering over his body, to finally lift his eyes to his emperor’s.

  Antonio realized with a shock that his adviser’s gaze held not only admiration but yearning. The thought gave him a surge of pleasure.

  “Oh, go away and find this traitor for me,” Antonio said, sliding the pistol back into his sleeve. “And if he’s laid his hands on my slut of a sister, I’ll cut them off.”

  Paznowski bowed again and departed, leaving Antonio to ponder how best to make use of his adviser’s desire.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In spite of efforts by his staff to congratulate him and celebrate his wedding, Peter Barranca put in a full day at his office. He returned to Barranca House for dinner and ate with his aunt and his brother, grilling Ricardo on his studies thoroughly and making the boy almost sweat, as Peter described the qualities he would look for in a tutor, should he decide one was necessary.

  His Aunt Cyndia watched them both with a tolerant eye. When Peter had sent a much chastened Ricardo off to study before bedtime, she walked Peter to his skimmer.

  “There’s no need to overdo it,” she said. “Poor Ricardo looked positively dismal by the time you finished with him.”

  “Good,” Peter said with satisfaction. “I want him to take this seriously.”

  “Cracking down on Ricardo because you feel you failed with Helena?”

  Peter smiled reluctantly. His aunt had always been perceptive where people were concerned. Certainly she was right in this instance. “Maybe a little.”

  “They’re not your children, Peter,” Cyndia chided him gently. “You’re only fourteen years older than Helena. She had parents. You didn’t raise her.”

  “I know. But I was twenty-two when Rick was born. I knew very well that Father wasn’t going to be much use to him. And his mother is worse, god knows.”

  “So it all falls on your shoulders?”

  Peter’s smile was warmer this time. Family was, after all, what mattered most to him. “It’s not an unmitigated burden to have siblings, Aunt Cyn. I’m glad I have them.”

  She sighed and put one hand on his shoulder. “I wish you had someone to turn to just for yourself. I wish you’d meet a woman you could care for—someone to show you some tenderness.”

  He smiled broadly at the thought, and she looked surprised. “Maybe I have,” he said lightly, and then he turned and ran down the steps to the waiting skimmer.

  • • •

  Gregorio was waiting in Peter’s suite when he walked into the sitting room.

  “Good evening, Count.”

  “Good evening,” Peter said, taken aback. He had forgotten all about the valet.

  “I’ve laid out your nightshirt and a robe,” Gregorio said with professional smoothness. “Princess Vinitra will be ready for you soon.”

  The news that his wife was expecting to visit him again that night shook Peter considerably. “Thank you. I think perhaps I’ll take a quick shower. You can go now.”

  Gregorio bowed. “Certainly, Count,” he said, his tone polite but determined. “Just as soon as I’ve seen to your clothes.”

  Peter disrobed and allowed the valet to carry off his soiled clothing. When he stepped into the shower, the water felt good on his back and shoulders, and then he remembered his conversation with his aunt. He had a brief, momentary flash of worry about Ricardo, and then he got out of the shower and dried himself off.

  The lights flickered just as he was hanging up his towel. Peter pulled on his nightshirt quickly, and opened the door to his bedroom.

  As before, the gloom was absolute. Peter stepped hesitantly across the threshold and walked slowly toward the bed. He wasn’t certain that there would be anyone in it, as the previous night had provided all the evidence needed that a virgin had been deflowered there. A rustling of the bedclothes told him that his bed was already occupied, and the faint, delicate scent of her perfume told him it was most likely the same woman.

  Peter slid under the covers and waited. A hand touched his chest.

  “Hello,” Peter said tentatively.

  “Hello,” said a quiet whisper. It was indeed Princess.

  Peter took the hand from his chest and kissed it gently. “It’s all right. We won’t do anything tonight.”

  There was a brief silence. “You don’t want me?”

  “It’s not that. I enjoyed last night tremendously, but I don’t want to take advantage of you anymore than is necessary. I can’t believe anyone really cares what we do now, so long as the bed looks as if it’s been occupied by two people in the morning.”

  There was another silence, and then she moved a little closer in the darkness. “Will you just hold me, then?” she said softly. “I feel much safer when you hold me.”

  Peter put one arm around her, pulled her against him, and then wrapped her in a warm embrace. “How’s this?”

  She laid her head on his chest. “Nice.”

  “Won’t you tell me your name?”

  She hesitated a moment, and then whispered in his ear. “It’s Marie, but don’t call me that. Call me Princess.”

  “All right,” he said, pleased that she had confided in him. “Will you be coming here every night, Princess?”

  He could feel her shaking her head. “I don’t know. He didn’t say how often. He only told me I mustn’t tell anyone about it.”

  Peter knew better than to ask her whom she meant. “The palace is a big place, cold and unfriendly. I’m glad I have someone to keep me from getting lonely at night.”

  She hugged him more tightly. “I feel that way, too.”

  Peter stroked her hair. “How old are you, Princess?”

  “Seventeen.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry this had to happen to you.”

  She put her mouth right near his ear. “I’d much rather be here with you than in there with him.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Perrault. My family has a farm.”

  Peter knew the pattern. When he had been in the army, more than half his men had come from farms. The press gangs would go through whenever there was a need for more men, and when they could find young, pretty single women, they would take them, too.

  “Do they know where you are?”

  “Yes. I sent a message when they let me, my first day in the palace.”

  There was another question he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Curiosity won out, and he whispered softly in her ear. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes. I figured it out.”

  He smiled at the pride in her voice. She sounded so pleased with herself, and so young and innocent. “Go to sleep now, Princess. They’ll come for you early, and you need a lot of sleep at your age.”

  She chuckled low in her throat and caressed his neck softly with one hand. “You talk like you’re my father. You’re only thirty-six.”

  He felt a rush of pleasure that she had taken the trouble to find out his age. “How did you know that?”

  “I watched the new bulletins today. There was a lot about you.”

  “Was there? Don’t believe everything they said.”

  “They said you were very brave,” Marie said. “And I could see that you’re quite handsome.”

  He smiled in the dark. “You’re very kind for one so you
ng.”

  Her hand came down from his neck to his chest and then to his waist. “Are you certain you don’t want me?”

  He grabbed her hand. “Don’t do that!”

  “Why not?” she whispered.

  “Because,” Peter said, his voice low but firm, “I won’t play his game. Don’t ask me to do it, Princess.”

  She moved her hand and he heard her sigh a faint, regretful sigh. “The new bulletins also said you’re an honorable man. I see now that they didn’t lie.”

  “I hope that part is true, anyway. Go to sleep now. The longer I lie awake next to you, the more difficult it is to stay honorable.”

  She gave another faint chuckle, and rolled over so that she was nestled in the crook of his arm with her back to him and her head resting on his upper arm. “I’m glad. I hope it’s very difficult.”

  Peter gave a profound sigh. “You have no conception of how difficult it is. Now go to sleep.”

  She pulled his arm closer around her and in a little while, Peter could tell from her breathing that she was asleep. He rolled on his side in an effort to get more comfortable, and fell asleep himself, his free arm draped over Marie’s shoulder in a familiar embrace.

  • • •

  Peter tried to keep the fact that he was living in the palace out of his daily life as much as was possible. He went to the office almost every day, even when no one else was working, and he worked out in the gym at Barranca House rather than in the one at the palace. He also saw Helena every day, whether he went to work or not. He was distressed, three days after he had first seen her, to find that the Corps had questioned her again.

  Her guards searched him as usual but said nothing to warn him, so Peter was shocked when he found his sister sitting motionless and vacant-eyed in her sitting room.

  “Helena?” he said in alarm, when she didn’t move or speak after he came into the room. “Helena, is anything wrong? What happened to you?”

  “A doctor gave me nempathenol,” Helena said tonelessly.

  “What? Why?”

  Helena didn’t answer, and Peter recognized that she couldn’t. Nempathenol made you completely truthful, but it robbed you of the ability to speculate.

  “What did they ask you?” he said, sitting down in front of her.

  “They showed me holographs of guardsmen. They asked if I knew any of them.”

  “Why would they think you would know a guardsman?” Peter asked in surprise.

  “Because I saw one at our meetings.”

  “There was a guardsman among the rebels?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was he in on the attack?

  “Yes.”

  “So that’s how they got in the door?”

  “Yes.”

  He had meant the last question to be rhetorical, but she had answered it anyway.

  “Did you recognize any of the guardsmen they showed you?” Peter asked.

  “No.”

  “So they haven’t found him yet?”

  “No.”

  “Were they angry about that?”

  “Yes.”

  Peter looked at her closely. “Did they hurt you or molest you in anyway?”

  “They frightened me.”

  “How did they frighten you? What did they do?”

  “One of them wanted to rape me. He said he could make me talk if they’d give me to him for ten minutes. He started to take off my clothes, but the colonel made him stop.”

  “Who was it that did this?”

  “A sergeant. They called him Merot.”

  Peter swore angrily, but Helena simply blinked silently.

  “Don’t worry,” Peter said. “I won’t let them hurt you, Helena. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  She didn’t answer. Peter decided that it was pointless to stay while she was still under the influence of the truth drug, so he left, first exchanging a few angry words with the guards, who refused to give him any information on when or why Helena had been interrogated.

  Peter was silent about the incident at dinner, not wanting to distress his aunt or his brother with what had happened, but inwardly he seethed with indignation.

  He tried to see Antonio when he returned to the palace, but the guardsmen informed him that the Emperor wasn’t receiving visitors, and refused to let him approach the imperial suite. Peter’s disposition wasn’t improved when he found Gregorio waiting for him with a message that the Princess would visit him soon. Peter made himself calm down. He was unwilling to involve Marie in either his mood or his clash with the du Plessis dynasty, so he made himself not think about how he had found Helena.

  By the time the lights flickered, Peter had lulled himself into a sort of artificial calm. He thought he had succeeded in changing his mood, until Marie put her arms around him when he got into bed, and immediately whispered, “What’s wrong?”

  Peter let out a short bark of laughter. “You’re very good at that. Are you an empath or something?”

  “Shhh! Not so loud.”

  Peter felt guilty for alarming her. “All right, I’ll whisper, too, if it makes you feel better.”

  “It does,” she said quietly. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing. Or at any rate, nothing you or I can mend.”

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t tell you. It might be dangerous for you to know.”

  She digested that in silence. “All right. I’ll accept that.”

  “Good. Let’s go to sleep. Whatever drug they use to put me out while they take you away gives me a headache. I need more sleep now.”

  She stroked his neck as she had done before. “Aren’t you even going to kiss me good night?”

  He bent his head down to brush her lips in a chaste kiss, but she opened her mouth and held him tightly until the kiss became something a good deal less decorous. Peter found his breath coming faster and his resolve beginning to weaken.

  “There will be no more of that,” he said, as he pulled away.

  “Shhh!”

  “Good night, Princess.”

  She giggled. “Good night, Peter.”

  He closed his eyes and prayed for the strength not to touch her again. While he was praying, Marie sighed once, and curled up next to him, as trusting as a kitten. Peter opened his eyes and stared up into darkness, grateful that her gesture had been so innocent that he knew he couldn’t abuse her faith in him.

  He went to sleep at last, but it was every bit as difficult as he had told her it would be.

  • • •

  Antonio du Plessis was more than annoyed, he was blazingly angry. “What? None of them?”

  Colonel Roger Beaumont looked as if he would rather be anywhere but in front of his Emperor. He bowed, straightened up to stand as stiff as a broomstick, and then spoke ponderously. “I’m profoundly sorry, Excellency, but the woman didn’t recognize any of them.”

  “Are you certain she’s not lying?” Antonio demanded.

  “Quite certain, Excellency. Nempathenol is foolproof.”

  Antonio bit his thumb. It really was vexing. Vinnie would have to work hard to put him in a more cheerful mood tonight. Fortunately, she was very good at that. Antonio thought about Vinnie lying naked in his bed, and smiled to himself. Really, there were advantages to being Emperor, even if it was so time-consuming, as well as being quite aggravating.

  “You must have missed someone,” Antonio said. “There must be a man who was supposed to be on duty, but who traded places with someone else unofficially.”

  “I suppose it’s possible, Excellency,” the colonel admitted.

  “Are you certain he’s on active duty status? Has anyone been kicked out lately, or let go for health reasons?”

  Beaumont looked almost offended. “We don’t discharge men for misbehavior, Excellency. We punish them, or even execute them, but we don’t let them go. And the only young man released for health reasons was a private who lost both legs in a training exercise.”

  “Well, how ma
ny men are there in the Corps?” Antonio said. “Can’t you show her all of them?”

  “I thought of doing that, Excellency, but Counselor Paznowski thought that it would be difficult for anyone to pick out the correct face after seeing so many.”

  Sergei Paznowski bowed slightly from his position next to Antonio’s chair. The new Emperor had decreed that his chief counselor should always be present at every meeting. “That’s true, Excellency. Even nempathenol has its limits.”

  “Oh, very well, then,” Antonio said. “Have you made any progress on the bakery?”

  “We think we’ve found it, Excellency,” Beaumont said, looking at the floor. “But we’re certain only because it’s been abandoned.”

  “Who owns it?”

  Beaumont kept his eyes on the floor. “It seems that Lady Helena Barranca does, Excellency.”

  “Bah!” Antonio snorted. “Another dead end!”

  “Precisely,” Paznowski said. “They must have cut and run once she was arrested. That’s why the colonel has decided to look instead for someone who doesn’t fit in—someone who hid himself suddenly. He’s going to have his men check the hotels and boarding houses and house agents for anyone who needed a place to stay suddenly after the assassination of your honored parents.”

  Antonio looked at his senior Corps officer and saw from his expression that he had decided no such thing.

  “Why,” Antonio said in a pleased voice, “how commendable of you, Colonel! Especially as martial law was imposed, so there were undoubtedly hundreds of people suddenly stranded in the city. It will take your men days—weeks—to sort them all out.”

  “Yes, Excellency,” Beaumont said woodenly.

  “Very commendable,” Antonio said, smiling. “You’d better get them started, Colonel.”

  The colonel bowed and departed without another word. As soon as the door shut behind him, Antonio burst out laughing.

  “Really, Sergei,” he said, wiping his eyes, “you shouldn’t do that to me. I might have hurt myself laughing.”

  “I’m glad I provided some amusement to Your Excellency,” Paznowski said, bowing in his chair again, with no trace of sarcasm in his voice. “I live only to serve you.”