Iron Dominance (29 page)

“They’ll be taking her to a cell for interrogation…unless sir intervenes.” Dankyo helped a house guard manhandle a rifle into its case and snap the clasps.

Theo narrowed his eyes. “Are you presuming to tell me my duty, Dankyo?”

“No. Sir. I would never presume to do that. Only to inform sir of facts of which you might be ignorant.” On the word
ignorant
, Dankyo had jerked the bottom of his suit coat, as if adjusting it.

“Hmph. Good.” Why had he ever hired the man? Dankyo could be an irritating bastard. Besides, exactly why was he taking the woman’s side in this? Maybe he thought it was protocol to give an employee a fair hearing before taking them out and shooting them.

He sighed. Only she wasn’t an employee. Dammit, this was an insufferable problem. It felt like someone had stuck their hands inside him and ripped out his guts.

He strode to the head of the spiraling stairs that led out of the watchtower, then paused. “Let’s get everything back to the airship. And, Dankyo, just to give you the facts…I’ve given instructions to palace security that she’s not to be hurt. Satisfied?”

He cocked an eyebrow. If Dankyo showed the merest hint of a smile, he’d demote him to cleaning pistons. To his disgust the man was straight-faced as a statue.
Damn
. He needed to get angry at somebody, and Claire wasn’t here. Whatever would they do with her? She’d laid herself open for the worst. An assassin who was in on a plot to kill the president.

He laid a clenched fist on the wall, felt the grit of brick grate on his skin. He couldn’t trust her. How could he let someone like that close to him? He wanted to never see her again…yet he also wanted to see her little white backside in the air so he could turn it so goddamned bright red she’d not sit down for a week.
Damn!

He lifted his fist from the brick and looked at the spots of blood, felt the pain and the cold blackness inside him spread.

Chapter Twenty-six

The cell they held her in was stark yet comfortable—cream walls, a bed that folded down from the wall, a sink, a toilet, and a few books. The barred door was set into a wall of steel bars. Still, she’d have thought it luxury a month ago. Though the first guard was a hulking brute who refused to leave even when she used the toilet, he was soon replaced by another more accommodating one—one with a friendly if rugged face, and he didn’t stare at her like she was some exhibit. Thank the Lord. Having a man watch her pee was going too far.

Though they’d tried to deceive her, she was sure this cell was somewhere in the palace. The fake carriage trip and the frequent direction changes hadn’t fooled her direction sense one bit.

Not that it mattered—she wasn’t trying to escape. And she doubted she was going to manufacture some weapon while on the toilet. Maybe they thought she could squeeze through the plumbing. The odd vision made her smile. Where had that come from? She hadn’t thought she’d ever smile again.

She thought awhile. Things had a way of coming out even when you didn’t think about them. The changing of the guard…it meant something. It meant that maybe someone was looking out for her. And that
maybe
was like a light at the end of a very, very dark tunnel. There was only one person she wanted that someone to be. If there was the slightest hope—her eyes watered, her heart picked up the pace—if there was any at all, she’d try her very hardest to make things right again.

Only a few hours after her arrival, at maybe four or five in the morning, an officer and a squad of six soldiers in black and gold marched up to the cell, stomping to a halt before her guard.

“I have orders to escort the prisoner for questioning!” the blond officer barked, his words as exact and energetic as his marching. In his hand was a sheet of paper.

Her guard had been sitting on his chair. He glanced at the paper and stood to snag the key from his belt. “The document’s good. Do you need her in handcuffs?”

The officer looked at her appraisingly. “Just the cuffs. No hood. Can’t believe she’s an assassin. Got the captain in an ass-tearing mood.” He stepped up to the bars. “Put your hands through the little door and wait until the cuffs are on.”

A small section of the cell door hinged out, leaving just enough room to put her arms through. Questioning? To be expected. Being difficult would only get her roughed up.

When she stepped up the officer shook his head. “Nope. Turn around. I’m cuffing them behind you. No sense being too lax. ’Specially considering I’ve heard you can tie a man in knots faster than a blink.”

She sighed, then did as he asked, turning to put her hands behind her and out the hole. Metal cuffs snicked around her wrists.

They marched her out of the cell and down a long corridor flanked by cells. Only one other cell was occupied. They went up a flight of stairs and to the third door.

Inside was a long room lit at one end by a dangling blue light; the other end was in shadow and divided off with a mesh screen. At a plain table were three chairs. The officer sat her down in one chair, chaining her at the waist facing away from the darkest part of the room, before exiting.

Silence. She made herself listen, slowed her breathing.

She could hear someone breathing back there. The outer door clicked and creaked open. A woman in an ultracrisp uniform stepped through—a lieutenant. She was accompanied by a skinny pimple-faced young man bearing a sheaf of paper and a typing machine. He adjusted the machine until it was square to the table and sat, his hands poised, ready to type.

The officer nodded, her sleek red bob swaying, her gaze already keenly advancing over every inch of Claire like a scalpel looking for a place to cut. She pulled out a chair opposite and eased into it.

Claire sat up straighter.

“Good morning, Miss…Claire.”

“Morning.”

“No
good
in there?”

“I’ll wait and see.”

The officer flash-smiled, showing teeth. “I’m Lieutenant Griffin. I’ve been assigned to question you regarding the attempted assassination that was averted last night. Have you anything to say before we begin?”

What a cold fish
. Claire wriggled a bit; the chair was hard as steel. “One, I helped to stop that assassination. Two, I will cooperate fully. Three—” She stopped. What was three? No longer
please execute me
, that was for sure. She’d had enough of being sorry for herself. She firmed her mouth.

“Three, I never intended any harm, though I know that by not speaking up…I may have done the worst harm ever to the only person who really mattered to me.” She blinked and braced herself. The lieutenant seemed mildly stunned, so while she had her attention, she launched into her story.

Maybe that wasn’t Theo back there, but she thought it was. This wasn’t for the lieutenant or for any record; it was for Theo. If he was back there listening, this was her confession to him.

She went through everything that had happened from the start. The early history of her with Inkline, the recruitment of those suited to assassination duty, the training, and her trip in that airship with Inkline…and more.

Her reasons for what she’d done spilled out across the story. Her regrets had been many, and she detailed them. How she’d not told Theo about her mission and why. That, she needed to say. How she’d known of his hate for betrayal and his deep feeling of responsibility for those he employed, and his hatred of assassination—that needed to be told, and she did so. By the end her face was wet with tears, but she kept her voice steady.

The final moment, when she’d discovered she could no longer conceal her lies and then the elimination of Inkline, spilled from her mouth like the last spatter of rain hitting the earth after a thunderstorm. Then she was done and exhausted.

The lieutenant said nothing, only staring as if she’d witnessed something extraordinary.

“Well.” She tapped her fingernails on the table, kinked an eyebrow. “They said you’d likely be forthcoming, but that was different. Looks like I don’t get to use any auxiliary means of persuasion, hey?” She chuckled grimly. “Joking. They said I wasn’t allowed. Pity. One of the perks of the job.”

She scraped back the chair and stood in one motion. “Farewell and good luck. I’ll send in the guards. There’s been…pressure to set you free. My assessment will be that you’re not to be prosecuted.” She saluted, signaled to the hastily packing stenographer, and headed for the door. It swung open smoothly, let them both through, clicked shut.

For a lieutenant, the woman seemed to have her fingers on the pulse of power.

Even so, Claire was alone with whoever was back there, and still chained to the chair.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Dankyo leaned close and whispered in Theo’s ear, “She knows you’re here, sir. Or suspects.”

“Yes.” A monotone answer. He wouldn’t give Dankyo the satisfaction. He was, had been, so angry, and even now with it ebbing, he knew this couldn’t work. Sadness was taking its place. They could have had so much.

He’d thought he’d loved her, but this would break any relationship. He couldn’t deny that he wanted her safe. Seeing her there chained to the chair and sad, it wrecked him. She was crying too. Not something he could see, but he knew. Wanted to go and wipe away, kiss away those tears. Not to be. He’d make sure she was sent somewhere she could start a life anew, and be done with her.

He rose. “Let’s go.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll see those blasted tortoise-like guards get in here and release her. Come.” The less said the better. God knew how acute her hearing was, and he didn’t want to raise false hopes.

* * *

It had been him. The whispers had carried. Yet he didn’t come to her.

So be it. She’d wait. If he bothered to be here now, there might be another time. She wouldn’t stop trying. Couldn’t.

She slowly caved in until her forehead rested on the table, needing the support.
God. Please, let this be over.

* * *

Later that day, Dankyo visited her. She’d never seen him so haggard. His uniform bore creases, and his eyes were red. The guard clanged shut the cell door, locking him in with her.

She hauled herself into a sitting position on the bed.

Dankyo looked about and seemed to realize the bed was the only structure made for sitting. He sat gingerly next to her, bowing the bed enough to make the springs groan.

This was the man closest to Theo. If anyone could help her, it was him. Yet, if she were drowning, Dankyo was the last person she’d want throwing her a rope, for it seemed likely that attached to the very end would be a crocodile.

“Why are you here, Dankyo?”

“I’m here…because it’s clear that you are the one thing Theodore Kevonis thinks he needs that he cannot have. Not having you is destroying him, and I aim to help you two get together again. Clear?”

“Ah. Whoa. Yes. You really don’t mince words, do you?” And—
oh my God
—her little spark of hope kindled and rose to a blazing fire.

“No. I cannot see the point. But, also, let me state that this is more a catharsis. I want you out of his system, and the only way to do that is to let him see you’re not who he thought you were. You’ve hurt him deeply. I believe he will then realize you must leave, permanently. And once that’s done, we’re done. Clear? You get a last good-bye from this.”

She sat back, feeling like he’d grabbed her by the throat.
Huh. This is the crocodile at the end
. Did Dankyo think so little of her? Her resolve solidified into a metal-girded juggernaut. Be damned if she’d let Dankyo tell her what to do.

She’d never been a doormat—well, unless it was Theo, but then he stepped on her so…pleasingly

She’d run over Dankyo in an instant to get to Theo. Be a darn big bump in the road, but she’d do it. Disappointing in a way, though. After the talk in the buggy, she’d begun to think Dankyo an almost ally, even a potential friend, and she didn’t have enough of those to go losing them.

Hmph. We’ll see who gets to say good-bye.

“I get a last good-bye?” She eyed him narrowly. “What must I do? And, let me be clear here. I will do anything.”

“Well. That is the problem. I don’t really know.” He ran his hand over his short hair.

“Not much help then, are you?” But still, she grinned weakly at him.
Dankyo, sitting with me, wanting to help. No matter his strange back-to-front logic, this is my best hope. Lord.

He glared. “I’ll send you word once I get something sorted out. Don’t disappoint me.”

Her grin shrank to a flat smile. “I won’t.”

For the rest of that day, and most of the next, she was left alone. At five o’clock in the afternoon, a summons was delivered. The president, the man she was to have killed, had asked to see her. She’d been part of an assassination plot. Was this to be the passing of judgment or something more terrible?

The guards marched her in, without handcuffs, free to move, and left her in the ballroom, though now it was filled with emptiness and silence instead of people and laughter. Three men stood fifty yards away, waiting. Theodore Christakos, her Theo, and then Dankyo, looking self-satisfied and a few steps back from the others.

“Claire.” The president beckoned.

She started.

“Yes?” She walked over. Her shoes tapped, echoing, sounding so small and lonely in this monstrous room. She halted before them

“You’ve been brought to hear my decision. I’ve assessed all the evidence, from your testimony through to what we know of the PME’s plans. Lieutenant Inkline seems to have been working independently with this plot to eliminate me. I’ve heard what Theo Kevonis has had to say, as well as my own security about your actions.”

Every muscle hummed with tension. She curled her toes in her shoes, made herself look straight at the president. Not at
him.

“My decision is that you shall be exonerated of any ill will toward this current administration. That you have a separate case to answer to for misleading Theodore Kevonis. I give you a choice.” He paused, his chin lowering, mouth a straight line.