* * * *
“Your pardon, Lady!” Natara exclaimed in dismay when Cassie jumped and shoved herself upright, looking around the room in alarm. “High Sentinel ap Aquinox expressly forbid me to disturb you if you were still sleeping, but he was concerned that you had not eaten.”
Drunk from being awakened so abruptly the moment Cassie realized there was no cause for alarm, she stared at the girl uncomprehendingly for several moments trying to gather her wits. “What time is it?” she asked finally.
“Mid-afternoon,” Natara responded. “But you did not break your fast this morning or have luncheon. High Sentinel did not think that you should wait to eat until the evening meal.”
Cassie lay back down, staring at the ceiling, but despite the lingering grogginess, she felt too alert to seek sleep again. “I’m not likely to expire from missing two meals,”
she said sulkily.
“It is not acceptable to mistreat prisoners, however,” Natara said in a carefully neutral tone.
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Cassie sat up again. “Well, at least we’ve dispensed with the polite lie that we’re guests,” she retorted tartly.
“You
were
guests,” Natara responded. “You abused our trust and so you are no longer a guest.”
Cassie reddened. Even the damned servants were playing judge and jury! “I didn’t do a damned thing!” she snapped. “It was what I didn’t do that got me into trouble.”
Natara sent her a questioning look, but she didn’t ask, and Cassie wasn’t about to try to explain herself. She didn’t
care
what the girl thought. Getting out of bed, she went into the bathroom. By the time she returned, Natara had left, having settled a tray on a small table beside the easy chair in the room and lain out a clean robe.
Cassie was glad to have the robe. The one she was wearing still carried Raen’s scent from their lovemaking—correction, sexual encounter—the night before, and it was wreaking havoc with her fragile emotions. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she ate, partly because it gave her something to do besides stare at the four walls and dwell on her misery, and partly because she thought it might comfort her.
It didn’t particularly, but she felt a little better.
She’d had time, while she was sleeping, to arrive at the conclusion that her current situation could be blamed completely on Carl and David. They’d had no right at all to make such a decision—that was going to affect everyone—without at least discussing it.
Of course, if they had, that would have put her in the position of having foreknowledge, but Raen seemed to think she had known about it anyway, and that didn’t change the fact that she was in trouble because they’d gone behind everyone’s back and gotten them all in trouble.
And for nothing as far as she could see. They didn’t
know
anything except that there was an Admiral commanding the Andromeda Prime. It might be a good guess that she was leading a fleet, but that was still guessing, and she didn’t see how the military would find it useful. Surely they would’ve thought about the possibility themselves already and used their satellites to check?
Raen had said there
was
a fleet—but after the fact.
She discovered she didn’t especially want to dwell on that. It seemed to imply that Admiral Valora hadn’t been entirely honest about her reasons for coming if she’d brought a fleet with her, and it gave rise to some very scary possibilities.
Blaming Carl and David didn’t especially help. It gave her a target for her anger, but not one she could actually rail against, which deprived her of any avenue to vent.
There was nothing to do and no one to talk to to take her mind off of her predicament, so after she’d finished she returned to the bed to sit on it and stare at the walls and try not think.
Natara hadn’t been particularly friendly when she’d come in to bring her food, but Cassie decided trying to engage her in conversation was better than nothing. “Raen told me the others had been put in the custody of their lovers,” she said tentatively when Natara came in to collect the remains of her meal.
To her surprise, Natara reddened, but not with embarrassment. She flicked a gaze at Cassie that was clearly furious. “The sentinels assigned to them were
ordered
to seduce them to obtain information,” she said angrily. “They are
not
lovers. There was
no
choosing!”
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Cassie gaped at the girl in total surprise. In all the time she’d been around Natara she’d been exquisitely polite, even pleasant. She was at a loss to figure out what had brought about the abrupt change in her demeanor. She’d been snippy before, but not furiously angry.
This, Cassie realized abruptly, was personal. “What do you mean by choosing?”
she asked curiously, recalling suddenly that Raen had used that term, too.
Natara sent her another angry glance, but her lips tightened as she slammed the dishes on the tray. “I had already decided that I would choose Adan when I reached the age where it was allowed,” she burst out after a moment, obviously unable to contain her anger despite her efforts. “He can not be chosen by an outsider, even as a lover!
“Before, when I told him that I might consider choosing him in union, he was pleased that I might. But he has done nothing but mope about since
that
female discarded him and refused to have anything else to do with him! Even if she had had a right to choose one of our males, she
discarded
him! She can not just … reclaim him at whim! He said that he had been ordered to take her, but I do not believe that for one moment! He is far too pleased about it!
“I have decided I will not choose him after all! He is not worthy of consideration!
Not fit for any discerning female to choose to father her children! I will choose another, and he will deeply regret it because no one will consider him worthy of fathering their children when he is the discard of an outsider!”
Cassie sat gaping at the door for a good ten minutes after the girl had stalked out, too stunned by her outburst to make any sense of it at first. As her initial surprise wore off, she began to try to unravel it, however.
The conclusion she arrived at was so—alien a concept to her that she dismissed it at first. There didn’t seem to be any other way to make sense of it, though.
As bizarre as it sounded, she realized the Atlantean women proposed to the men!
And the men, obviously,
worked
to get the proposal. Even though she’d reasoned it through and was almost completely certain she understood what Natara had revealed about their mating practices, it was still hard to swallow when it was exactly the reverse of human customs.
It wasn’t the reverse of typical mating behavior, though, she realized abruptly.
With man as the only exception she could think of, the rule of nature was that the female chose the male she wanted to father her off-spring—and the males fought the other males to gain her attention—used every manner of courtship from dancing and preening to nest building.
Her stomach abruptly somersaulted as she recalled Raen taking her to see his home and then exactly what he had said when he had mentioned the choosing—‘Choose me, Cassie. I can give you more.’
Everything inside of her expanded with excitement and pure joy—and then deflated just as quickly. Even if she was right and not misinterpreting the things he’d said and done, he was so cold now there was no getting around the fact that he’d changed his mind.
Was it even possible that he’d cared and then had just stopped, she wondered?
Could a person do that that abruptly? Just turn it completely off as if it had never happened at all?
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He was angry with her, she knew, because he felt like she’d betrayed his trust.
Was it just anger and maybe hurt? Was it anything she could patch up? And if she managed to do that, would it ever be the same?
Glumly, she had to admit that it couldn’t be the same. People could get over the little things, forgive, forget even, but the big ones? Not likely, she decided. They might say they’d forgiven, but they really hadn’t—not if they couldn’t
also
forget it. Because as long as it remained in the mind, it hurt, and as long as it hurt, they distrusted and as long as they distrusted, they were going to hold something back to protect themselves.
She had ruined everything, she realized, fighting the urge to cry again, knowing no amount of tears were going to wash the grief away.
It was just as well, she thought dispiritedly. Hadn’t she already concluded that it wouldn’t work out?
Even supposing this stand-off between the Atlanteans and her own country was resolved amicably—which was a huge supposition and damned unlikely to end well—it was hopeless. Raen wasn’t going to fit into her life, and she just didn’t see herself fitting into his. What would she do with herself on Atlantis? Make babies—and then what?
She wanted children. That was why she’d decided to make one last push to find a suitable husband before she got any older. But would she be satisfied with just that?
She’d seen the way of it with most women who opted to take the traditional role.
They lost their identity. They became Dirk’s wife, and Cassie’s mother—the heart of the home and the center of her and her father’s universe, but insignificant to everyone else, was even looked down upon by some people who considered it the same as saying she was a failure.
She shook her head. It didn’t matter how she felt about it. It wasn’t going to happen. Raen might have cared something about her before, might have at least
felt
that he could, but that was history now. He wasn’t going to give her a chance now.
He’d been pretty damned brutal about not even wanting to be her lover anymore.
She frowned at that thought, realizing he hadn’t seemed all that anxious to be her lover to start with. If he’d actually been interested in her, as she was trying to convince herself he had been, wouldn’t he have been interested in being her lover?
* * * *
Raen had rehearsed what he was going to tell the councilor over and over in his mind since he’d realized the position he’d put himself in, and he still didn’t know what he was going to say when he arrived at the councilor’s chambers and was admitted. He bowed respectfully to Councilor det Ophelia and assumed a military stance before his desk since it was not a social call.
“I take it you have come to report on the debacle of last evening,” de Ophelia said in an irritated growl.
Raen felt his color fluctuate but maintained an appearance of outward calm with an effort. “Aye, my lord. As far as I can ascertain, none of the females of the group were involved. They have been placed in preventive custody, regardless, but there is no indication they had any knowledge of the plot to breach our security.
“The files furnished to me on their backgrounds indicate no military training—in fact no training of any kind that would provide them with such skills, nothing to indicate an aptitude or inclination to formulate or execute a military exercise.
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“Of the males, only Ben Moser has no military training whatsoever. Mark Sanderson and Jimmy Slater both received military training and served one tour of duty.
David Monroe served two tours, and Carl Smith four.
“There is no question of guilt in the case of either David Monroe or Carl Smith, both of whom were caught in the act, and they will remain incarcerated until you are ready to release them to their people.
“The other males are still being questioned to determine the possibility of their complicity. Once that is established they will either be placed in preventive custody as the others have been, or incarcerated with the other two for the duration of their stay with us.”
Councilor det Ophelia frowned when he’d finished. “If you are convinced the females were not involved, I am not certain I understand why you have placed them in preventive custody.”
“I thought it best to insure that they would not be able to get into trouble, my lord.
They feel far more secure when they are allowed to group, and consequently seem more inclined to act when they might not do so alone. They share ideas and encourage one another.”
Councilor det Ophelia nodded. Still frowning, but more now as if in deep thought than anger, he idly straightened the paraphernalia atop his desk. “Have you ascertained where the Lady Cassia went when she disappeared last eve?”
In spite of all he could do, Raen felt his face heat. “She was with me, my lord.”
The councilor’s brows rose almost to his hair line. “Was this meeting of a … uh
… social nature? Or did it in any way have to do with our situation? Or with the incident last eve?” he asked finally.
Only his years of military training prevented Raen from squirming under the councilor’s gaze. “It began as a discussion of the situation, my lord, and ended on a social nature. Lady Cassia seemed to be in a good deal distress when I had spoken to her earlier, but she was fearful that the others would believe that she was being disloyal, and I sent her back before her absence could arouse suspicion with the others. At that time, I suggested that she wait until they were asleep and meet to talk when we could do so without her fear of being discovered or interrupted. She met me later per our arrangement.”
The councilor drummed his fingers on his desk. “What was it that she was so distressed about?” he asked finally.
“She said that she—in fact all of the natives—were fearful that when they were released their military might fire upon them by mistake, particularly if things continued to escalate. She also informed me that she had considered your request and decided to help, but that she could not afford for the others to discover it. She was afraid it would be interpreted as treason and the others would inform on her under questioning.”
“But you did not think to inform me that she had offered to help?” the councilor demanded angrily.
Raen’s jaw tightened. “No, my lord, because I told her we did not need her help.
She had already informed you that it could be interpreted as treason. I do not believe she would have been so fearful if there was not a good a chance of it. We can not in good conscience ask it of her if by helping us she places her life at risk.”
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The councilor glared at him. “I would certainly not ask it of her if I believed that to be the case, but ensuring that we do not become enemies of her government would also insure that she would not be accused of treason. The act of advising us can not be treasonous unless we are at war—which we are not—yet—or it pertains to military matters—which she could not help us with—or she divulged government secrets, which I assume she has no knowledge of. She would only be helping us make gods bedamned peace, not war, Raen! What were you thinking?”
Raen ground his teeth together but resisted the urge to respond since he was fairly certain the question was rhetorical in nature anyway.
Pushing himself up from his desk, the councilor moved to his cabinet and poured himself a drink.
He didn’t offer Raen one.
“Sit down, Raen!” he said testily when he returned to his desk again.
“I would just as soon stand, my lord.”
“Well, you are getting on my nerves!”
Raen glanced around for a chair and settled in the one nearest to the desk.
“I am not going to ask why you did not bother to report this meeting between the two of you earlier,” Councilor det Ophelia said dryly.
“It will be in my report, my lord,” Raen responded coldly. “I had never intended to do otherwise.”
“Unless it has some bearing on the case in question, I see no reason to include it in the report.”
Raen shifted uncomfortably. “I am not entirely convinced it does not,” he said reluctantly. “Lady Cassia freely admitted to me, under questioning, that, when she realized the men were missing, she had some suspicion of their intentions and that she decided not to report it to me.
“It had occurred to me that there was a possibility that she was a part of the plot, at least in the sense that she was sent to make certain that I was otherwise occupied at the time they slipped out. Her admission that she knew they were gone and suspected what they were up to seemed to give some weight to my suspicions.”
Councilor det Ophelia settled back in his chair, studying Raen speculatively.
“And yet you have placed her in preventive custody. With whom?”
Raen flushed. “She is with me.”
The councilor nodded. “I thought as much,” he said dryly.
Raen’s lips tightened. “She betrayed my trust. I am not likely to make the same mistake twice.”
The councilor looked amused. That irritated Raen far more than the fact that he’d questioned his reasoning. The irritation didn’t dissipate as the silence between them lengthened and Raen’s discomfort grew.
“There are so many decisions one must make in life,” the councilor said musingly. “One can never really know which ones are the most important, or which we will come to regret.
“I blamed your mother for my son’s death. I was grief stricken and unreasonable, but I did not realize it at the time—not for many years. By the time I finally accepted that he died because her life meant more to him than his own—hers and his sons—it was too late to try to make amends.
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“You are very much like your father, but you owe a great deal to your mother, as well, and it is hard for me, now, to say which is the better part of you. I will say that I have never had cause to feel anything but pride in you—even though I can not claim to have had any hand in it.
“All that you have become, you have done yourself, and because you were fortunate in your parents—
both
of whom were of excellent stock, although I refused to ever admit it when your mother was alive.
“You can be gods bedamned stubborn, Raen, and arrogant and unyielding—that is what has gotten you where you are, but it is not always a good thing.
“I see that it has not occurred to you that you have not
earned
Lady Cassia’s loyalty.
You
trusted because in your arrogance you assumed you had. Do not compound your mistake by refusing to forgive a trespass that only existed in your mind.”
He studied the grim set of Raen’s jaw for a moment and finally sighed. “I know what you are thinking—that I have no right to speak when I have withheld myself from your life all these years—and you are right. I do not.
“I kept my peace and said nothing to you when you accepted Kira, even though she was wrong for you and I knew it.” He shook his head. “Bad blood, that one. But I knew if I told you that you would only throw it my face because of the harsh things I had said about your mother.
“In Kira’s case, however, it was absolutely true. I signed the sterilization orders on her myself when she was evaluated at the time she reached adulthood. She was emotionally defective at a genetic level and although every effort was made to correct it, the results were not what we had hoped for. She could not be allowed to pass her defective genes to another generation.”
Raen stared at his grandfather in absolute disbelief and fury. “You did not think I would want to know that she could never bear a child for me?”
“She knew. Did she tell you?”
“You knew. She would not have told me for fear I would refuse her.”
“You would not have refused her if you had known!” the councilor snapped. “Do not try to tell me otherwise! You were determined to have her. You did not listen to your friends when they tried to dissuade you and you certainly would not have listened to me! You were young and hot headed and determined to make your decisions, and your own mistakes!
My
disapproval would only have made you more determined.
“I expect my approval of Lady Cassia will only make determined to do just the opposite. Nevertheless, I can not sit by, twice, and watch you make the wrong decision without making a push to help you make the right one. Regardless of what you may believe, I do not wish to see you miserable in your life, and I would like the chance to make up for my own poor choices. If she will have you, I may yet get the chance to dandle a grandson on my knee before I die!”
Raen surged to his feet. “If that is all, Councilor det Ophelia?” he asked tightly.
The councilor glared at him. “No, it is not all, Sentinel ap Aquinox! Bring the Lady Cassia to speak with me! Tomorrow morning—That is not a request, Sentinel!”
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