Promised by Caragh M. O'brien Page A

man was to her, with his gray hair and slumped shoulders. “This was your idea.”
    â€œNaturally, but we had to keep you somewhere while we waited.”
    â€œFor what?”
    A banging noise came from the corridor and she flinched in alarm.
    Mabrother Iris smiled slightly. “Your blood work. I felt it would be wise also to remind you who’s in charge here, especially considering your past record with us. It’s a very poor record. The Protectorat would prefer to deal with you himself, but cross the line, and he’ll pass you along to me. I get results. Are we clear on that?”
    Gaia glanced again at the whip. “Is that what happened with Leon?”
    â€œLeon was a very special case.” Mabrother Iris stepped back and gestured in four guards. “Tie her hands,” he said. “We won’t need another gag, will we, my dear?”
    She shook her head. Strong hands pulled her arms together before her, and she winced as the strap was bound tightly around her wrists again.
    They left V cell, and at the end of the hall, turned down a staircase. At the bottom, a musty, narrow tunnel led farther down, and caged bulbs came on automatically as they progressed single file. In places, the guards ducked to avoid the low ceiling. Wooden joists bracketed the walls and ceiling, reminding her of the old mine tunnels she’d traveled once with Leon, and at last they came around another corner to an old door.
    The quality of the air changed when Mabrother Iris shoved open the door to a small, private wine cellar. Black bottles had turned pale under a coating of fine gray dust that conveyed not neglect, but precious wealth. In the opposite corner, a staircase, cleanly swept and bordered by a gleaming wooden banister, ascended upward.
    Gaia knew without being told that they were under the Bastion now.
    â€œThat’s convenient,” she said. “To have a secret link between the seat of government and a torture cell.”
    â€œYou’d be surprised how convenient,” Mabrother Iris agreed, discounting her irony. “On we go. Marquez, see that she doesn’t trip.”
    The youngest guard, a stout, short man with pale eyebrows and hair, guided her elbow and stayed beside her up several flights. At the top, Gaia looked down a long hallway, recognizing the tall ceiling and patterned carpet that ran its length. They’d reached the second floor of the Bastion, and if memory served, the headquarters of the Enclave was ahead on her right.
    â€œMarquez, remain,” Mabrother Iris said, opening the door. “The rest of you may go. After you, my dear.” He gestured Gaia in before him, and with a sense of foreboding, she walked into the familiar room.
    The four tall windows looked out on the Square of the Bastion, where evening sunlight sharply illuminated one tapering side of the obelisk. Just as before the desk with the glowing screen-top still dominated the room, with upholstered chairs and small tables in groupings to her right. The air smelled fragrantly of tea that she knew would never be offered to her. The only thing missing was the canary’s cage, which had been replaced by a low glass box containing a blanket and paper shavings. Mabrother Iris leaned over to put the piglet inside, and it snuffed into the blanket.
    As a man turned from the window, Gaia was face-to-face with the Protectorat, her future father-in-law. His salt-and-pepper hair was trimly cut, and his black mustache was shorter then he’d previously worn it. His white suit gleamed, and his trousers fell crisply to shiny black shoes.
    She measured him in wary silence. Knowing Leon more closely as she did now, she discovered her feelings for the Protectorat had gained secret layers. She had already distrusted and feared him, but now, on Leon’s behalf, she resented him for his failings as a father, too. It somehow made him more human, but in the worst sense.
    The Protectorat did not smile.