He had taken the gift Aino’Kei Miklos had offered, knowing it might be a ploy to make him more vulnerable. In his heart was the conviction that he might never see Cynara again. He could not determine the source of that fear, nor why he felt such despair when he considered the completion of his assignment.
You will not betray Cynara. That knowledge should have severed any ties that restrained him. But he had found much to honor in Lord Miklos, despite his disrespectful questions to Cynara.
Ronan was not even a true prisoner here, though he knew escape would be no simple matter. Escape was not an option. In order to acquire the unrestricted freedom he needed to search out vulnerable and knowledgeable minds, he had to pass the tests these humans set him.
But when the guard came, an hour after a server had brought him a breakfast of bread, thinly sliced meat, and fruit, it was not to take him to a place of questioning but to Lord Miklos’s room of books.
“Good morning,” Miklos said, waving him to a seat. “I hope the morning meal was to your liking.”
Ronan listened for mockery in the aino’kei’s voice and did not hear it. He answered with neutral courtesy and attempted what he had not dared at their first meeting, a swift and shallow touch of Miklos’s mind.
It was, as he had expected, fully shielded. Miklos was no telepath, but he had been prepared to deal with one. He smiled, unaware, and leaned across his desk.
“I won’t pretend that you don’t have an ordeal ahead of you, Ronan,” he said. “But I wanted to reassure you that no one here wishes you ill. I will be present during the questioning. Before then, however, I’d like to show you something of the palace.”
Ronan kept his face expressionless as he examined Aino’Kei Miklos’s motives. He did not behave as if he faced a potential enemy. Nor was he a stupid man. It made no sense for him to invite Ronan within the walls of his House as if they were kin.
Miklos had his ve’laik’i, to be sure, and they would be ready for any aggression. But still it made no sense—unless Miklos had a hidden plan of his own to draw out Ronan’s knowledge by subtle and devious means.
“I am honored,” Ronan said, inclining his head.
“No formality, please,” Miklos said. “You see, Ronan, I’m convinced, like the captain, that you will be of great assistance to the Alliance in understanding the shaauri. Understanding is the first step toward peace, and that is what we desire above all.”
“Why should humans want peace when shaauri have stopped their trade and killed their kin?”
“You speak of humans as if you weren’t one yourself.”
Miklos said, smiling to lighten his words, “but I suppose that’s no wonder. You were only a child when the shaauri took you.” He pretended interest in one of his books and half pulled it from its shelf. “You were kidnapped, I understand.”
“I was taken on a raid, such as shaauri youths often venture during Walkabout.”
Miklos sighed and pushed the book back in place. “It seems likely that our database will turn up the names of families who lost a child that year, or who were killed in a shaauri attack. You do wish to find your human kin?”
Were these questions part of Miklos’s scheme? Of what use could they be to him? “Yes,” Ronan said warily. “It was my purpose in escaping the shaauri.”
“Of course.” Miklos straightened the tunic of his dark brown suit. “Come. We can talk as I show you the palace.”
He led Ronan out the private door behind his desk, and as expected, two of his men fell in behind. Miklos apologized with a chuckle, as if their presence were an offense rather than a necessity.
“Persephone is a peaceful world,” he said, “but my grandmother used to say that peace is founded on strength.”
“So the shaauri would say as well. ‘The House strong in ve’laik’in is sure in Path.'”
“Indeed. My brother-in-law, Jonas Kane VelArhan, came to believe that the differences between our species are not nearly so great as either side would believe. Jonas married my sister after they stopped the first Kinsman coup attempt thirty-odd years ago. We had every reason to believe that their efforts would assure a continuation of the peace we enjoyed after the First War. But it was not to be.