And what’s worse—with a rush of clarity, I realize that he’s only ever ruled me because I let him do it.
“No,” I say, standing up as the word rings in my ears. Some part of my mind points out that I have the power like this, that standing, I am taller than he is sitting, that making him look up at me gives me the upper hand. But in reality I simply can’t sit any longer; a frenetic buzzing rising in my limbs drives me to action. It’s all I can do not to pace. But pacing is a sign of weakness. I learned that from him too.
“You will leave us alone. Forever. In exchange, we will keep your secret.”
My father’s watching impassively, giving me nothing. “Forever is not a very long time for a soldier.” His voice is soft as velvet, and as dark. My heart tightens, shriveling with fear.
But Roderick LaRoux is not the only one who can threaten without threatening, bully without raising a hand. He’s taught me everything I know.
“You were all I ever needed in my life,” I say softly, watching his face. The dynamic in the air has shifted. I can feel it. And from the minute twitch on his cheek, I see that he can too. “But people uncover buried memories all the time as they recover from traumatic events. I don’t know what would happen if I began to remember what I saw on that planet.”
My father gets slowly to his feet. He’s a tall man, with suits tailored to emphasize his stature in dark, powerful colors. He places one hand on the back of his chair, watching me impassively. He says nothing, but I know what he’s thinking.
“When we get to Corinth, Tarver and I will issue a statement together explaining how we salvaged a downed escape pod to send a distress signal. We won’t mention the station. Tarver’s probably in a room somewhere right now, lying, keeping your secrets. No one will ever have to know what we’ve seen.
“But, Father—and this is the important part—I’m holding you personally responsible for his safety. Because if something ever happens to him, I’ll know it was you. If he’s transferred to the front lines, I’ll know. If he comes down with a mysterious illness, I’ll know. If so much as a hair on his head is out of place, I’ll know. And if someday someone thinks to blackmail or threaten him into leaving me, I’ll know that too.”
“Lilac, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re implying.” His tone is cold, but I can see something behind it—something I’ve never seen before. Uncertainty. “Why his safety should be my responsibility—”
“His safety is your responsibility the way Simon’s should have been.” For the first time the memory of Simon’s green eyes and quick laugh don’t hurt. And this time, when I look at my father, he’s silent. “If something happens to Tarver the way it happened to Simon, it’ll be the end of LaRoux Industries. The galaxy will know what you did here. And if that happens, all the power and the money in the universe won’t be enough to save you.”
My vision is blurring—not with tears, but with the effort of not blinking. I can no longer see my father’s face clearly, and so I stare past him. Just get through this. You faced a wilderness with monsters, a ship full of corpses, the emptiness of death itself. You can do this.
“And if something ever happens to Tarver Merendsen, you will lose me too. You’ll lose me forever. And you’ll have no one left.”
I finally let myself blink, and when my vision clears I can see my father standing there, quite suddenly old. His white hair seems thinner, his skin looser. I can see wrinkles around his eyes that I don’t remember being there. The hand on the chair back is for support now, not to strike a powerful stance. His mouth quivers.
I harden my heart. This, too, I learned from him. “I’ll never speak to you again. Do you understand?”
He lets out a long breath, head bowed. “Lilac…”
“Do you understand?”
“You’re free to go.”
“Excuse me?”
“The door is unlocked, Major.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Major—you realize that your story and our findings don’t add up.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you, sir. It’s what happened.”
“There’s absolutely no evidence to back you up.”
“You really think I could make something like this up?”
FORTY-TWO
TARVER
MY INTERROGATOR STANDS AND GESTURES to the door, which swings open as if on command.
I stare at him for a long moment, trying to process the idea that I’m free to go, my mind desperately tumbling over itself as it searches for the trick. What’s the next step, the next part of the game? My eyes are scratchy, aching, my head throbbing to a slow pulse. Hunger has faded out now in favor of a heavy nausea that sits like a weight in the pit of my stomach.