Twenty
“You are pensive this morning, my mate,” Ki’san said. “And you are not eating. Shall I send for something else?”
“The food is wonderful. I’m just not hungry.” She put the fork down. “And I’m really grateful that we didn’t have to go downstairs with everyone else.”
“Even a disgraced prince,” he indicated the meal laid out for them in the dining room of their apartments, “can claim some privileges.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Come, what troubles you? There have been many changes for you. Perhaps far too many for such a short time.”
“Actually . . . Something happened the night you came for me. I finally saw her.”
His brow creased. “Her?”
“Rose.” She lifted one shoulder. “Her spirit, I mean. You remember that photograph we found in the safe, the one of Rose and Allaster?” He gave a g’hir’s nod. “Right before I passed out I found a letter, stuffed inside the frame, that she wrote to Allaster, one dated the same day she died. I thought it was rust on the paper, but they were blood spots from her coughing. Rose had the same illness I did but hers had progressed more than mine.” Tara’s hands clenched her in lap. “She’d started to go mad. That’s why that secret bedroom was built, to keep her out of sight so no one would know.”
“Why?” His expression was appalled. “The illness was not her fault.”
“Yeah, well, Rose had been ill for years, that was common knowledge, but lunacy? She would have done anything to hide that, to protect her son from that stigma. She wanted her baby to be happy, not to think of himself as motherless, not be shamed because of her. But at the end Rose wanted their child to know the truth when he was old enough. I couldn’t understand why Allaster didn’t honor her last wishes. He even married someone he didn’t love to protect Rose and their baby. So why did he hide her letter into the photo frame like that? The truth is—” Tara took a deep breath. “He didn’t. I think Mrs. O’Neil did.”
His brow knitted. “Hannah’s ancestor?”
“Yes.” She rested her palms on the table. “Allaster had gone to take the baby to Leta, to bundle them both off to New York. They couldn’t have risked anyone else knowing about the baby; I bet Mrs. O’Neil attended her at the birth but something went wrong, she was bleeding too heavily, she was bleeding to death. At some point Mrs. O’Neil must have left her alone—to get help, to call a doctor, I don’t know. I think it was the housekeeper who found Rose dead in her suite later—and her last letter too. And Mrs. O’Neil couldn’t risk anyone—even her own sister Madge—seeing that letter.”
“Why not simply destroy the message then, rather than hide it?”
“Are you kidding? Mrs. O’Neil had a diamond mine in her hand—Rose admitted to madness in that letter. Allaster would have paid big to get that proof back, to protect Rose’s secret and their son.” Tara gave a wry smile at his offended huff. “People get blinded by dollar signs, especially when it’s a lot of them. Remember Dolly and my new oak? I always wondered if it was really just loyalty that made Allaster promise Hannah’s family—Mrs. O’Neil, really—the cottage rent-free and an annuity in perpetuity—but ever since I took over the estate, I could never quite figure out the reasoning behind it. But she knew the truth about Rose. I think all that—the cottage, the annuity, the permanent place for her descendants— was to keep her silent. And even with all that, she must’ve realized Rose’s letter would have made her rich. With Rose dead, Leta off to New York, and Allaster about to leave Mrs. O’Neil in charge at Heatherbell, she must have thought the letter was safer in Rose’s suite than in her own rooms. She knew Allaster would never let anything happen to that photo. And I bet he’d already told her not to touch Rose’s rooms or let anyone else in there. She probably planned to wait till Allaster and Leta were good and married, until they returned with ‘their’ baby, to hit him up for a bundle of cash.”
“Hannah’s ancestor did not use it though.” His lucent gaze was cynical. “I do not think this Mrs. O’Neil suddenly found scruples.”
“Yeah, me neither. Allaster must have locked the photo—and the letter inside it—in the safe before he left to join Leta and the baby in New York. He only stayed long enough for Rose to be put in her tomb. Mrs. O’Neil didn’t know the combination—and never managed to get it from Allaster—or she’d have gotten the letter back and blackmailed him. It sounded like Mrs. O’Neil felt guilty though—or maybe she saw Rose’s ghost too. Hannah said she defended Rose vehemently whenever anyone talked badly about her.”
“Then Hannah is not aware of her ancestor’s scheming.”
“Actually, I’m sure she is.” Tara sighed. “When Hannah saw the photo on my dresser I thought she was shocked because I look like Rose. She said she wanted to go show Brice the picture, but I bet she just wanted to get it somewhere I couldn’t see her open the back. Hannah even suggested I go back to sleep; it was clear she didn’t want to leave the room. She knew about the letter inside the frame, all right.”
“She has no honor, then.” He scowled. “Hannah could have told you of this secret, about the letter.”
“How? ‘Oh, by the way, our family betrayed your family’s trust for years, were planning to blackmail you all for a bundle and the proof is behind this photo—More tea?” Tara shook her head. “After all this time Hannah probably hoped the frame and the letter her grandmother hid was long since lost. Besides, she and William are nearing retirement, their daughter’s family is struggling. They’d be too afraid of being turned out of the lodge, shamed in Brittle Bridge, maybe even sued. But, still,” a lump formed in her throat, “Poor Rose, making that final awful walk every night, always trying to get the letter to Allaster before it was too late, trying to make the truth of who she was known to her family.”
“The truth is known now.” Ki’san enfolded her hand in his. “You have paid the debt you feared owed her.”
“I guess I have. I’m healed and Rose is finally at peace in her own home, but—” Tara hesitated. “I didn’t even get to leave Brice a note. Ki’san, I can’t just disappear, vanish from existence like that. My brother has no idea what happened to me. He’s got to be out of his head with worry. Isn’t there some way for me to get a message to him?”
“I do not have an answer for you,” he said heavily. “Much will depend on the council’s ruling.”
“You said your father sent a warning by putting us in these rooms.”
“Their ruling,” he said quietly, “about me.”
“Wait, what?” Tara stared. “What are you talking about?”
“If the council determines I am guilty of the destruction of the Karnack—”
“The crash was not your fault!”
“If the council declares me guilty I will be banished, sent to a penal colony. And you—The clanfather will fight to keep you here. There are . . .” he looked at her hand in his, his voice tight. “many A’rahan warriors for you to choose from.”
Tara pushed up from the table. “Oh, fuck that!”
The chair scraped against the floor as he stood to follow her. “This is a possibility.”
“This is bullshit!”
“If they find me guilty, if they reject my claim to you”—he caught her gently by the shoulders to look into her eyes—“remember it will be for you to decide. You may choose to take another g’hir as your mate or to return to Earth.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay, then I’ve decided that I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”
“Tara—”
Without warning the door to their rooms pushed open.
“Ki’san,” E’lar growled. “The council members have arrived.”
“You know on my world there’s something called ‘knocking’,” Tara snapped. “Or don’t clanfathers have manners?”
E’lar’s face reddened. “My apologies, Mata.” He looked at Ki’san, his voice subdued. “It would be wise not to keep them waiting.”
The clanfather shut the door behind him. Ki’san covered his mouth trying, unsuccessfully, to smother his huffing laugh.
“Mind telling me,” Tara folded her arms. “What’s so damn funny?”
“I once saw an enraged ruga charge my father.” He shook his head, grinning. “And even then he did not cower as he just did when faced with a little human female.”
“I’m not little!” Her glance took in his six-foot-nine frame. “Okay, yeah. Compared to you maybe. But you could probably bench press oxen. I never scared you, did I?”
“When you nearly stepped off that cliff, when I found you cold and hardly breathing, when the initial awakening procedure failed—”
“Okay, you can stop now.”
He caught her before she could turn away. “And it took all my courage the first time I kissed you.”
“You know,” She raised her eyebrows. “As I recall, I kissed you. My brilliant plan to get you up.”
His fangs flashed in a sexy grin. “And so it does.”
“I’ll test it out again later. Come on,” Tara tapped his chest. “If your father thinks that was scary, I’ll have those councilors quaking in their boots.”
The two men who awaited them in the dining hall made it plain that they were not there to socialize, nor to make friends. For all her brave words upstairs, these men held power over Ki’san’s life. Tara’s stomach tightened as one turned to face them, the hatred in his blazing eyes visible even from the entrance to the hall.
“Some sort of family rivalry?” Tara whispered.
“Be’tan’s father,” Ki’san murmured. “One of the warriors killed in the crash.”
“The pilot?”
Ki’san shook his head, and there was no time for more questions.
One of the men, his clothes expensive to the point of fussiness, put himself smoothly between the two.
“Ki’san of the A’rahan,” he said. “I was just thanking your clanfather for allowing this interview during the gathering time.”
“My lifemate,” Ki’san said, taking her hand. “Tara.”
“Mata,” the councilor said inclining his head to her. “I am Mirak, of the B’tari enclosure. This is Se’lar of the Reh’su. On behalf of the entire council, we welcome you to Hir.”
“Thank you,” Tara said. “I’m sure everyone wants to see this matter settled quickly so we can all get back to the gathering festivities.”
“In my mind,” the other councilor said, leveling his glare at Ki’san, “the matter is already decided.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Tara faced Se’lar. “And that I was too late to help your son. I’m sure Be’tan must have made you very proud.”
The councilor’s face crumpled for a moment. Then he seemed to regain control of himself. “He did.” Se’lar’s gaze narrowed at Ki’san. “And those responsible for his death must be held accountable.”
“I did not cause your son’s death. Or Uthar’s.” Ki’san said sharply. “I did not sabotage the Karnack.”
“Nevertheless,” Mirak said with an uneasy glance at his colleague. “You are the only survivor. You have information that may further our investigation.”
“I do not know what other information I can provide. I told you all I knew about the destruction of the Karnack when the rescue vessel brought me to Hir, when you held me in detention.” Ki’san growled. “Your pointless delays nearly cost Tara her life.”
“Does the evidence corroborate my son’s accounting?” E’lar demanded. “You have had the wreckage for many days now.”
“The ship was sabotaged, that much is irrefutable,” Se’lar gritted out. “The question is, by whom?”
“It is plain who sabotaged the ship,” Ki’san snarled. “The equipment in the infirmary was tampered with, the linguistic implants modified to kill any human female who received them. This is the work of the Purists.”
Tara frowned. “Purists?”
“Not all on Hir agree with the council’s decision to allow males to hunt on your world,” Mi’rak explained. “There are some that object to g’hir taking human mates. They call themselves ‘Purists’.”
“Hold on, if you already know it was these Purists who sabotaged the ship,” Tara looked between the councilors. “What the hell do you want with us?”
“The Purists are a fringe element in our society,” Se’lar said. “And the Karnack was berthed in a secure facility. If they are responsible then they needed help from someone within the defense corps to gain access to the ship.”
“You think I helped the Purists?” Ki’san scoffed. “Why should I do such a thing?”
“The answer,” Se’lar indicated Tara, “stands here before us.”
“That is your theory?” Ki’san’s snarl rose in outrage. “That I sabotaged the ship, murdered two of our world’s finest warriors, lied to the council and my own enclosure and in return the Purists—who have sworn to end all such parings!—placed me in a position to hunt a human mate?”
“But you were not in such a position!” Se’lar’s spat. “As one who did not compete—who could never have been permitted to compete—you had no right to capture this female.” His lip curled. “Since you did not choose the path of a warrior.”
“If he’d had, he wouldn’t have been sent to Earth as a doctor,” Tara said tartly. “And I wouldn’t be standing in this clanhall, being talked about like I’m not here.”
“Your pardon, Mata,” Mirak put in with a sharp look at his fellow councilor. “It is not our intention to offend.”
“Just accuse without evidence,” she shot back.
“It is in the interest of all of Hir to discover the traitors in our midst,” Mirak demurred. “I am sure your mate wishes justice done as much as we do.”
Tara’s nostrils flared. Slick as any human politician . . .
“You held the position of ship’s physician,” councilor Se’lar said to Ki’san. “It is a healer’s task to inspect that equipment, is it not?”
“I did.” Ki’san’s voice had a distinct edge. “The night before launch. Whoever sabotaged the Karnack had access to the infirmary between that inspection and when we left Hir space the next morning. If I were guilty of collaboration with the Purists, why would I tamper with implants intended for a human female? Why not use them for my own purpose?”
“Your mate seems to have no difficulty understanding us,” Se’lar pointed out.
“She received her implant when she was brought here from Earth,” Ki’san said. “I did not even place the device. The warship’s physician, Doctor N’tan, did. Ask him yourself.”
“We already have,” Mirak put in with a warning look at Se’lar. “The events that occurred which led up to the destruction of the Karnack are of far more concern to us.”
“I told you in chambers. I was in the galley when the ship’s systems failed. I was injured in the crash and arrived on the bridge to find the others already dead—”
“It is difficult to confirm that,” Se’lar sneered. “When the ship’s records have been so badly damaged, when you admit to moving the bodies, when there is no witness to corroborate your version.”
“Hell yeah, there is.” Tara folded her arms. “Me.”
The councilors and E’lar too turned surprised gazes on her.
“You cannot be a witness,” Se’lar snapped. “You were not aboard Karnack.”
“Not for the actual crash, no. But I discovered the wreckage. I found Ki’san on the bridge.”
“What did you observe?” Mirak asked quickly, as if speaking before the other councilor could.
“Ki’san was so badly injured I thought he’d bleed out. The other two crew members were there with him. One was in the pilot’s seat,” she glanced at Se’lar. “Your son was lying nearby. If it’s any comfort, it didn’t look like either one of them suffered.”
“Are you a physician yourself then,” Se’lar’s face was taut. “That you can say so?”
“I’ve spent most of my life in and out of hospitals. I’ve seen a lot of death and heard a lot of suffering. And you’re right, I’m not a doctor but it looked to me, from their injuries, from the way they were positioned, like both of those men were killed instantly.”
“I am a doctor,” Ki’san said. “It was my opinion then and it is now, that both warriors were killed on impact.”
“Has the investigation—of the wreckage, of the warriors’ injuries—given you any evidence to doubt my son’s accounting of the crash?” E’lar asked.
“The accounting may be consistent but it is the method that concerns us,” Mirak said. “Someone got aboard the Karnack and triggered a cascade failure. One intended to destroy the vessel.”
“If they intended to destroy the ship, why bother sabotaging the implants too?” E’lar asked.
“Possibly a back-up in case any of the warriors survived,” Mirak allowed. “To prevent any human females from surviving capture. And that brings us to the subject of your son’s unsanctioned hunt.” The councilor shifted his weight. “And this female’s proper place.”
“Her proper place,” Ki’san bared his fangs, “is here, with me.”
“The council has forbidden any who have not competed from capturing a human female,” Mirak reminded. “This is Hir law.”
“Uh, excuse me,” Tara raised her eyebrows. “I was never hunted. In fact, I found him.”
“That is Hir law as well, is it not?” E’lar demanded. “That a female may choose for herself? Tara may choose my son if it is her wish.”
“The council has declared that a female may choose any warrior she wishes,” Se’lar pointed out. “Your son has not chosen that path.”
“Are you sure the council wishes to risk a conflict with the northern enclosures,” E’lar bristled, “over one human female?”
“When we barely keep the peace now?” Mirak returned. “Do you think the other enclosures will tolerate the council casting aside its own edicts? Can you, as clanfather of the A’rahan, swear before the All Mother that Ki’san is a warrior of this enclosure?”
E’lar hesitated.
“Then,” Mirak began. “As representatives of the council—”
“I will face the final trial again.” Ki’san moved protectively in front of her. “And the All Mother will either return me here a warrior or She will welcome me into the next world.”