“I had no idea that love was involved in this,” Carter VelShaan said. “If we could turn Ronan to our side, and be sure of him, the advantage could be enormous. He could learn what became of Lady Kori and Jonas, what Constano intended if the Archon was assassinated, and how much the shaauri Kinsmen are behind the blockade and continued hostilities.”
Even love had become just another calculation. “You’re suggesting that he become a counteragent for the Concordat,” Cynara said.
“His mind was tampered with before,” the Kinswoman said. “It could be done again, if he were willing. He could even be implanted with false information for the Kinsmen who programmed him.”
“The Kinsmen probably expected him to die carrying out their schemes. Assuming they take him back, they’d be very likely to kill him.”
VelShaan looked at Miklos. “Am I wrong in presuming that he is already under a possible sentence of death, at the very least severe mental damage?”
“I’m afraid, given the circumstances—” Miklos paused, frowning. “It seems a long shot, but if Ronan truly wished to atone for his actions—if he cares for you, Cynara, as I believe he does—he might even turn the tide in this cold war.”
“You can’t ask it of him,” Cynara said. “Even if he agreed, you could never be sure…” Her mind went blank, and then filled with impossible, absurd notions she was almost afraid to speak aloud. “Unless someone goes with him. Someone who knows him as well as anyone can.”
Miklos looked up at her. “Are you volunteering, Cynara?”
“What are the alternatives? I’ll do whatever is necessary to spare Ronan death or permanent brain damage. He’ll have a far better chance among the shaauri.”
“Though I honor your courage,” Miklos said, “I can’t permit you to give yourself to our enemies. They would most certainly kill you, and you’re still a valuable asset to the Alliance.”
“Maybe it isn’t necessary for me to cross the border. Mes Carter VelShaan—”
“Brit.”
“Brit,” she said slowly, “bear with me. I have a very unconventional idea that just might work.”
Ronan woke from a dream of Cynara in his arms, whispering secrets he could not quite understand. The moment he opened his eyes, he knew that it had not all been a dream.
Cynara was here, on Persephone, in the palace. He did not know how long ago she had come, but she was on her way to him now.
There was only one logical reason why she would have returned to Persephone so quickly. He was on his feet, as close to the field as he dared, when she entered the corridor and spoke to the guards.
“Ronan,” she said.
He expected accusation, anger, the bitterness of betrayal. It could not have been much worse if An Charis had accompanied her to confront him with his deceit and manipulation of her mind. But Cynara was alone, and the way she looked at him made his legs as weak as an unweaned ba’laik’in.
“Cynara,” he said. “I am sorry.”
“I believe you are,” she said. “Chief Charis doesn’t seem to have been harmed.” She hesitated. “You made her deliver her passcard to you, and clouded the minds of the marine and the other crew. That must have taken a great deal of skill. But when you faced your final decision, you didn’t take what you’d come for.”
Her words were like blows, reminding him of every failure and betrayal, great and small. “You returned to report what I had done.”
“Yes. But matters aren’t nearly so black and white as they may seem.” She braced her legs apart and clasped her hands behind her back, all First and commander. “Did you come here to kill the Archon?”
“I did not,” he said, “but the compulsion was within me. They put it there.”
“The shaauri Kinsmen.”
He nodded once, letting his eyes speak for him. “I did not know their full purpose. I still do not—”
“You don’t know what else they had in mind for you,” she finished softly. “It must be terrible, Ronan.”
“You speak so to me after what I did on the Pegasus?”
“I can’t punish you any more than you punish yourself.” She lifted her head, and he felt in her a new confidence that made his own helplessness all the more contemptible. “I know some of what you’ve done has been within your control, and some has not. But I don’t hate you, Ronan. Believe that.”