Any chance, any chance at all, that she was wrong about Ronan meant the destruction of humanity’s single, still-frail hope of victory. Even at the cost of his friendship, she had no right to take that risk.
Friendship. She swallowed the bitter dregs of her kaffé and closed her eyes. Ronan had called her his mate.
“If you’re finished,” Uncle Jesper said, “we should discuss the debriefing. Cynara, Ronan, if you’ll join me in my study?”
Cynara dropped her fork. Ronan had already left the table. She followed him to the study and took the chair farthest away.
‘To the best of my knowledge,” Jesper said, “this will be a simple interrogation. I have been assured that no telepathic probing will be employed without due notification. However, since you are a telepath yourself, Ronan, I suggest that you focus on keeping your mind open to avoid giving the impression of any subterfuge. You may expect that they’ll ask you very detailed questions about your background, your time among the shaauri, your reasons for escaping, etc. They will want to be sure that you harbor no lingering loyalty to your captors. The more you tell them, the more likely they’ll be to see you as a potential ally.”
“That will be no difficulty,” Ronan said.
“I will also be there, and Cynara has been granted permission to remain with you during the debriefing. Her testimony of your actions aboard the Pegasus will naturally be a point in your favor, and her faith in you, as a fellow telepath, should speak for itself.”
“I am grateful.”
“I should also warn you that Janek will be present, but he has little actual power. There are several very reasonable men on the Council who will not judge you based upon your apparent origins. Cynara, have you anything to add?”
“No, Uncle. I’ll be there if Ronan needs me.”
“But I do caution you, Spitfire, not to communicate with him mentally, since it will only arouse suspicions.”
“Of course.”
Jesper turned back to Ronan and regaled him with some long-winded but useful advice about the Offworld Trade Council, its history and its members. Cynara listened with only half her attention. Ignoring Ronan was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
“Cynara, it’s time we were off.”
Jesper squeezed her shoulder lightly and smiled in such a way that she knew he wasn’t as oblivious as he’d seemed at breakfast. He’d always known what went on in his own house.
He was dressed magnificently in a slashed velvet doublet of scarlet and an overrobe of silver, fur-trimmed satin, the traditional costume of Dharman elite that had scarcely changed since the coming of the Concordat. No one in the Council would doubt his loyalties, or his prosperity.
There was nothing traditional about Cynara’s uniform. It was the finest she owned, made up of the expensive fabrics the burgher-lords of Elsinore considered appropriate to one of her station, though the color was the conservative dark blue of a standard shipsuit. The braids alone cost a small fortune. She made no other concessions to Dharman sensibilities; the uniform included a sleek-fitting set of trousers that conformed perfectly to her body.
At Jesper’s recommendation, Ronan wore a plain shipsuit with no additional decoration. Oddly enough, the choice made him appear at once less threatening and more fascinating, as if the very simplicity of his clothing played up the slightly alien grace of his bearing.
Cynara found herself staring and quickly looked away. Ronan pretended not to notice. He exchanged a few quiet words with Lizbet and answered Jesper’s summons with a nod.
“No matter what they ask you, my boy, answer as honestly as you can. Keep your mind open, as we discussed.”
Ronan accepted the reminders solemnly and turned for the front door.
“Ronan.”
He looked at Cynara as if at a stranger. “Aho’Va.”
“Good luck.”
He nodded. She had never seen his eyes so blank of expression, even when he’d first come aboard the Pegasus.
“Good luck indeed,” Jesper said, and hurried off to the carport, where his driver stood ready to transport him to the Council chambers. They were located in the small business district of High Town, only a few kilometers’ drive from his house. Cynara and Ronan were to follow in a second car.