Only a few hours after her arrival, at maybe four or five in the morning, an officer and a squad of six soldiers in black and gold marched up to the cell, stomping to a halt before her guard.
“I have orders to escort the prisoner for questioning!” the blond officer barked, his words as exact and energetic as his marching. In his hand was a sheet of paper.
Her guard had been sitting on his chair. He glanced at the paper and stood to snag the key from his belt. “The document’s good. Do you need her in handcuffs?”
The officer looked at her appraisingly. “Just the cuffs. No hood. Can’t believe she’s an assassin. Got the captain in an ass-tearing mood.” He stepped up to the bars. “Put your hands through the little door and wait until the cuffs are on.”
A small section of the cell door hinged out, leaving just enough room to put her arms through. Questioning? To be expected. Being difficult would only get her roughed up.
When she stepped up the officer shook his head. “Nope. Turn around. I’m cuffing them behind you. No sense being too lax. ’Specially considering I’ve heard you can tie a man in knots faster than a blink.”
She sighed, then did as he asked, turning to put her hands behind her and out the hole. Metal cuffs snicked around her wrists.
They marched her out of the cell and down a long corridor flanked by cells. Only one other cell was occupied. They went up a flight of stairs and to the third door.
Inside was a long room lit at one end by a dangling blue light; the other end was in shadow and divided off with a mesh screen. At a plain table were three chairs. The officer sat her down in one chair, chaining her at the waist facing away from the darkest part of the room, before exiting.
Silence. She made herself listen, slowed her breathing.
She could hear someone breathing back there. The outer door clicked and creaked open. A woman in an ultracrisp uniform stepped through—a lieutenant. She was accompanied by a skinny pimple-faced young man bearing a sheaf of paper and a typing machine. He adjusted the machine until it was square to the table and sat, his hands poised, ready to type.
The officer nodded, her sleek red bob swaying, her gaze already keenly advancing over every inch of Claire like a scalpel looking for a place to cut. She pulled out a chair opposite and eased into it.
Claire sat up straighter.
“Good morning, Miss…Claire.”
“Morning.”
“No good in there?”
“I’ll wait and see.”
The officer flash-smiled, showing teeth. “I’m Lieutenant Griffin. I’ve been assigned to question you regarding the attempted assassination that was averted last night. Have you anything to say before we begin?”
What a cold fish. Claire wriggled a bit; the chair was hard as steel. “One, I helped to stop that assassination. Two, I will cooperate fully. Three—” She stopped. What was three? No longer please execute me, that was for sure. She’d had enough of being sorry for herself. She firmed her mouth.
“Three, I never intended any harm, though I know that by not speaking up…I may have done the worst harm ever to the only person who really mattered to me.” She blinked and braced herself. The lieutenant seemed mildly stunned, so while she had her attention, she launched into her story.
Maybe that wasn’t Theo back there, but she thought it was. This wasn’t for the lieutenant or for any record; it was for Theo. If he was back there listening, this was her confession to him.
She went through everything that had happened from the start. The early history of her with Inkline, the recruitment of those suited to assassination duty, the training, and her trip in that airship with Inkline…and more.
Her reasons for what she’d done spilled out across the story. Her regrets had been many, and she detailed them. How she’d not told Theo about her mission and why. That, she needed to say. How she’d known of his hate for betrayal and his deep feeling of responsibility for those he employed, and his hatred of assassination—that needed to be told, and she did so. By the end her face was wet with tears, but she kept her voice steady.
The final moment, when she’d discovered she could no longer conceal her lies and then the elimination of Inkline, spilled from her mouth like the last spatter of rain hitting the earth after a thunderstorm. Then she was done and exhausted.
The lieutenant said nothing, only staring as if she’d witnessed something extraordinary.
“Well.” She tapped her fingernails on the table, kinked an eyebrow. “They said you’d likely be forthcoming, but that was different. Looks like I don’t get to use any auxiliary means of persuasion, hey?” She chuckled grimly. “Joking. They said I wasn’t allowed. Pity. One of the perks of the job.”