Tethered (11 page)

But of course his only concern was to complete the treaty. He didn’t really care about
her.
Not as a person. Not as a woman. Just as the only way to keep the peace with the Tier-vane rather than going to war. That was the extent of her value. She was a fool to believe otherwise.

She lay down and curled up into a tight knot. Longed for Refuge and the feel of her kin. Longed even for Communion with one of her kind, instead of the hollow, aching void in her chest. The terrible gnawing loneliness. Was that why she had sought Zander out? Driven there simply by her need for companionship? Or did she feel more? Was this what it felt like to be in love?

If so, she couldn’t understand why anyone would permit it. At that moment she would rather be Dissipated.

***

The smell of capprey woke her. She lay curled in bed and sucked in the scent as though she’d been starved of the caffeine-rich brew for a year. She’d spent a restless night listening for Zander, torn between wanting him to come to her and terror that he would. What would he say? What could she say after last night? Should she apologize? Pretend it had never happened? Her thoughts ran rampant. Not even the Rules of Decorum covered this. Certainly nothing in the Inc-Su community of Refuge.

A soft knock sounded on her door. Her stomach writhed. She couldn’t face Zander. Not yet.

“My lady?”

Visaya.
A strange mix of emotions roiled through her. Anger that he clearly wasn’t prepared to face her, disappointment that he hadn’t come, and a feeling akin to sorrow, all dominated by relief. She shook herself. Today was the re-inauguration, and tomorrow their formal meeting with the Tier. Hiding in bed simply wasn’t an option.

“Yes?”

“I have your breakfast.”

Tyree sighed and forced herself out of bed, pausing to slip a loose robe over her nakedness. Not that Visaya and Zander hadn’t seen her naked before, but somehow she felt that probably wasn’t appropriate. Not that she could put a finger on why it bothered her now.

Visaya hovered outside the door as Tyree opened it, her hands clasped in front of her.

Edgy,
Tyree noted.
I wonder why particularly?

“How are you this morning, my lady?” Visaya spoke in a slightly breathless fashion. “Have you suffered any ill effects from travelling?”

“No, I’m fine.” Why would Visaya think that? Had Zander told Visaya about her issues with space travel?

She glanced toward the living area and her heart froze. Zander sat at the table, hunched over a cup of capprey and his gaze fixed on the contents.

Mothers, he looks as though he took on more than two Manikins...

She met Visaya’s gaze, and the woman twitched her head, indicating that Tyree should go and join him.

Mothers and Fathers...

As if being sent for Dissipation, Tyree went to the table and sat.

Zander’s gaze flicked up toward her. “Are you well this morning?” His voice came out as rough as he looked, but at least he was speaking to her.

“Fine. Thanks.” She grabbed the cup of capprey awaiting her and buried her nose in it, taking a deep breath before drinking. Hot and sweet, the drink improved her outlook no end.

“Do you want to run through the ceremony for re-inauguration again?”

“No, I don’t think so. I have it memorized.” Tyree helped herself to various wafers and fruits from the table. “Besides, the cleric will be doing all the talking, won’t he?”

“Yes. He will.”

Tyree glanced up to find Zander staring at her, his expression flat. He sounded so distant this morning, more formal than ever. It made her ache. He’d retreated further into his diplomatic façade. Did he hate her that much for the previous night? What was going on in that head of his? She reached for his aura...and found a gray sheet.

The hurt scythed through her chest. “You’ve shielded yourself. Why?”

“I felt...I thought.” The mask cracked a little. “We’ve much to go through in the next couple of days. I felt it would be less distracting for you.”

He couldn’t even come up with a decent excuse for it. So he had chosen to hide himself from her. Closed her out completely. She meant nothing to him except the means to complete his mission. So be it.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly. She took another swallow of her capprey then rose, ignoring the food she’d set herself. “I think I’ll start preparing.”

“Wait.” Zander stood. “I take no offense from what happened last night. I hope neither will you?”

Offense...

Anger bubbled in her empty stomach. He was quoting a standard Decorum apology at her. Damn him.

“None intended. None taken.” There. All done by the Rules. She dipped her head in farewell, as did he, and then she scurried back to the bedroom before she gave in to the urge to punch him.

Visaya scuttled in behind her and closed the door. “Are you all right, my lady? You ate nothing.”

“I’m not hungry.” Truth be told her stomach was growling, but the thought of venturing back out for something to eat made her nauseated. “I’ll have something later. What am I supposed to wear for this frigging re-inauguration then? I take it something terribly formal.”

Visaya moved to the wardrobe and removed a garment in silver and blue. Unlike the overelaborate gowns she’d been forced to wear previously, this was elegant in its simplicity. A sleeveless, figure hugging full length dress in satin shimmered different shades of blue as it caught the light. Fine silvery mesh overlay it, forming wide, sweeping sleeves that would float as she moved.

“Do you like it, my lady?”

Tyree snapped her mouth shut. “It’s...beautiful,” she admitted. She frowned. “Do I have to have my hair tied up in knots again?”

Visaya smiled. “Not today, my lady.” She lifted a silver tiara from the wardrobe and displayed it to Tyree. “You may have your hair down and wear this.”

***

Some time later, Visaya pronounced her finished. Again, Tyree’s reflection stood at odds with memories of herself. In Refuge she would never have spent time gazing at herself in a mirror. But now she saw Mirsee, not Tyree, because Tyree would never have worn such things. Never have her hair lying glossy black around her shoulders like a cape, and a long dress of satin with billowing silver sleeves. Perhaps she was turning into Mirsee after all. Would she really be able to go back to Refuge and her own life after this? Would she still be Tyree? Or would Mirsee’s shadow overhang her for the rest of her life?

She turned away from the thought and her unfamiliar reflection, stalking toward the door. It slid open to reveal Zander waiting outside, as always in formal robes in shades of brown. Her pulse raced furiously as his gaze trailed over her body before he jerked his attention back to her face.

“Do I look the part then?” she asked with a catch in her voice.

Remember, you’re just playing a role. None of this means anything. You can forget this as easily as you can shrug off this dress...

Zander nodded slowly, as if considering the question at length. “You look perfect,” he said, his tone low.

Her insides quivered at the absolute sincerity of his words. The awkwardness from this morning had passed. Zander held out his arm to her, and she took it, hoping he couldn’t feel how much she was shaking. Some hope.

Zander led her down the corridor. Gleaming white Manikins—Paladins—accompanied them, two in front and two behind. More heavy duty than the simple combat Manikins and with their humanoid shapes encased in ceramide armor and weapons built into their arms. Only the Monitor had control of them. Supposedly, even the best hackers in the galaxy couldn’t break into a Paladin’s programming. Tyree shivered. After the invasion of the Monitor on
Seclusion
, she doubted even that legendary fact. Any programming could be broken, and not even a dozen Su could stave off four Paladins should they turn.

Zander squeezed her hand, but when she glanced at him he had his gaze fixed firmly ahead. Had the same thought occurred to him? Or had he just felt her shiver?

They arrived at the door to the sanctum. The Tier-vane would be watching them via a see-vu inside, but otherwise they would be unobserved and alone with the cleric conducting the re-inauguration. Sealed in, safe and secure, until the ceremony was over and approved by the Tier.

“Ready?” Zander murmured.

Unable to frame the word, she nodded. Her mouth had gone as dry as if she’d swallowed desiccant. The door opened and they stepped inside.

The interior reminded her of a primitive temple on one of the backward worlds, far removed from the high-tech station. She hesitated at the gloominess, and the sudden cloying scent of perfume.

What the frig?

Zander tugged her forward, and faint music filled the silence. Tyree wrinkled her nose as they walked toward a short, stocky human male standing at the far end of the room. His pallid complexion looked unhealthy in the half-light, but the heavy scent of what she now realized was burning incense would probably make anyone feel sickly. It certainly did her.

Zander’s grip steadied her as they approached the cleric. He wore heavily embroidered robes, explaining the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Tyree mentally rolled her eyes. Humans and their ceremonies. Why couldn’t they just have made their vows over the see-vu without all this extravagance and foolishness?

“Master D’joren,” the cleric greeted them, his voice wavering. “Lady Mirsee.”

She bobbed her head in acknowledgement as she’d been briefed, and the cleric coughed. Incense or nerves? She tried not to breathe in too deeply, but a sudden acrid waft prickled her throat.

Gah!

She wanted to cough.

The cleric cleared his throat again. “We have gathered here, in the company of our honorable allies, the Tier-vane...”

Tyree bit her lip to prevent the cynical snort threatening to break free. Honorable allies?

“...to validate and certify the inauguration of our Terran representatives, whose hands will join to honor our continuing peace with the mighty Tier-vane nation...”

As the cleric droned on, Tyree’s attention shifted. The see-vu conveying this pretty little scene to the Tier hung above the cleric’s head, and she glared at it, wondering what the Tier thought of her and this waste of time. Whether they were actually listening at all. Her gaze drifted. Fabric covered the metal walls, pseudo-tapestries that were probably replicas of ancient and historical significance. Humans were such traditionalists, clinging to their past like a buoyancy aid. Ridiculous.

The acrid tang stung her nose again, and she glanced at the cleric. Sweat trickled down his face, and he stumbled over the words. When he reached forward to take their hands and join them, the cold clamminess of his touch made her want to pull back. Tyree checked his eyes and noted the dilation of his pupils. What the frig had he taken? Not a cammer, that was for sure, unless he was having an adverse reaction to the tranquilizer. A stim maybe? Alcohol? She sniffed. No. Nothing she recognized.

He released them and gave a final blessing, falling silent with a bowed head. Tyree copied, but her head jerked up as the cleric made a choking sound. The man fell forward as though someone had smacked him over the head, and then began to convulse on the floor.

“What the...” Zander darted forward but Tyree grabbed his hand.

“Don’t touch him!”

A bubbling sound came from the convulsing man, and black liquid spread in a puddle underneath his head. Black fumes rose from the fluid, and a smell sharp as acid touched her nostrils.

“Toxic,” she warned, and dragged Zander toward the door. The fumes followed them, stinging her eyes. Damn it! Someone must have fed something to the cleric, turning him into a living biohazard. She slapped the door lock. Nothing happened.

“Monitor, open the door.” Zander spoke with a calmness Tyree didn’t share.

“Cannot comply. Toxic elements detected. Security lockdown in progress.” A siren wailed and the dim lighting in the room switched to urgent red.

“Damn it!” Zander pounded the door. “Monitor, let us out!”

“Cannot comply. Toxic elements detected.”

Tyree clutched a handful of her robes and covered her mouth and nose as the fumes burned. It would be a slow, painful death if they didn’t get out. She glanced back at the body. It had sagged into a damp, shapeless lump still pouring fumes into the air. The cleric had been a dead man walking, dosed up with some kind of catalyst to turn his body into a poisonous heap.

Zander clutched her arm and leaned in close. “Get yourself out,” he whispered. “See if you can open the door from the other side.”

“No. I won’t leave you.”

“Listen to me!” He shook her. “Get out. Get help. There’s no point in both of us dying here.”

She glanced to the see-vu still hovering at the far end. Could the Tier-vane still see them? Hear them? Was she willing for them both to die here just to keep her true identity secret?

Everything screamed denial at his suggestion, but she obeyed, her robes slipping from her incorporeal form as she shifted. The cold metal wall slammed into her awareness and she solidified with a gasp. “Shielded.”

“Damn.” He grabbed her hand where the silver bonding ring still encircled her finger, and pressed the metal. “Pray this is still active.”

Tyree clapped both hands over her face as he released her, and Zander coughed, copying her movement. Hammering sounds came from the other side of the door, and then it opened a fraction. Tyree and Zander grasped the door’s edge, adding their weight to whoever had opened it from the outside. Shouts rang over their coughing. Tyree pulled with every ounce of strength she had. Someone wedged themselves into the gap.

“Out! Now!” Zander shoved her through and she tumbled naked into the corridor outside, choking. Someone slapped a mask over her face and she sucked in a deep breath. Clear air! She took several breaths before daring to look around. Zander did the same beside her, Pevanne at his side. Her gaze flickered round. She didn’t recognize the man tending her, but she was grateful for the oxygen he’d provided.