When Colonel Rutter returned Aelyx to the hotel an hour later, the penthouse was crowded with politicians and publicists—none of them smiling. Confused, Aelyx made his way into the room, then stopped short when his gaze landed on the television screen. Someone had paused the program, but he recognized it at once. His own image stared back at him from a hotel sofa he shared with Cara’s parents.
Somehow the botched interview with Sharon Taylor had aired.
Stomach dropping, Aelyx glanced around the room for an explanation. He grew cold when he noticed the ambassador glaring at him from the dining room table. No doubt, Stepha would punish him for this.
“What happened?” Aelyx asked.
“She leaked the whole thing,” the PR specialist said. “We’re not sure how she did it, but I assume she was wearing a hidden camera and transmitting the footage offsite.”
“So it’s…”
“Everywhere. And the response isn’t pretty. HALO leaders are already calling for your arrest.”
The room exploded in simultaneous conversation as everyone bickered over who to blame and what to do next.
Colonel Rutter’s voice carried over the crowd. “Simmer down. We’ve got backing from Isaac Richards now. Whatever the damage from that interview, we’ll call a press conference and have him put out the flames. This isn’t the end of the—”
Stepha raised a hand and silenced the colonel. “It’s late. We will continue this discussion in the morning.” A few objections arose, but Stepha insisted that everyone leave, even David, who begrudgingly agreed to wait in the hallway. Within minutes, the room cleared until only Aelyx and Syrine remained.
“I’m sorry,” Aelyx said. He doubted it would help, but he meant every word.
The ambassador showed no sign of emotion. “You know what has to happen.”
Aelyx could only nod.
Stepha led the way into the living room, where he settled in his armchair and instructed Aelyx and Syrine to take the sofa. Right away, Aelyx noticed the iphet resting on the coffee table and his shoulders clenched of their own volition.
“I haven’t administered a Reckoning since I accepted the post of ambassador,” Stepha said. “I find the task demeaning.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I loathe the smell. It reminds me of my own childhood indiscretions.”
Syrine shifted beside Aelyx on the sofa and wrung her hands. She’d nursed him through his first Reckoning at age six. Afterward, she’d empathized with his pain so acutely she’d vomited her breakfast. Aelyx wished Stepha would dismiss her. She didn’t need this anxiety.
“Stepha, please,” Syrine whispered. “Aelyx is repentant. Perhaps you can spare him the iphet. The Way doesn’t have to know you waived his penalty. I won’t tell anyone.”
Aelyx expected the ambassador to chide her for suggesting such a crime, but he didn’t. Instead, Stepha studied them for several minutes, never initiating Silent Speech—just watching. When at last he spoke, his voice was eerily calm. “I’m not going to administer a Reckoning.” He leaned forward and took the iphet in his hands, then turned it over, inspecting the deceptively delicate wiry rod attached to its handle. He held it toward Syrine. “You are.”
Syrine brought a hand to her breast. “Me?” She shook her head so fiercely her ponytail escaped its clasp. “I can’t! Please, if you consid—”
“I believe you mistook my order for a request.” Stepha tossed the iphet onto the table, where it rolled toward the sofa. He locked eyes with Aelyx but chose to speak aloud. “Do you see how your insubordinate actions have corrupted this girl? In defense of your treachery, she has proposed a lie by omission—seeking to deceive The Way, whom she has sworn to obey in all things. Do you see how your poor example has led her astray?”
“Yes,” Aelyx said, offering a silent prayer to the Sacred Mother that Stepha would reconsider. Syrine didn’t deserve this. “And I’m deeply sorry.”
“In the end, rebellion hurts us all.” Stepha showed no signs of relenting. “Syrine will deliver your Reckoning and share in your anguish, to teach you that everyone suffers when you defy The Way.” Without moving an inch, he glanced at the iphet. “She will administer twenty strokes.”
“Twenty?” Syrine cried. “But that’s a dozen more than—”
“Twenty-five,” Stepha corrected. “You may begin at your leisure.”
Syrine clenched her fists, but she didn’t argue. Aelyx knew her well enough to imagine she was punishing herself for adding five lashes to his penalty. He couldn’t let Syrine assume the blame. This wasn’t her fault.
He claimed the iphet and handed it to her. When their eyes met, he said, Don’t be afraid. I’ve been through this so many times I barely feel it anymore. You won’t hurt me.
Of course she knew he was lying, but she nodded and took the handle in her trembling fingers. Aelyx showed her how to power it on, then removed his shirt and knelt in front of the sofa, resting his folded hands atop the cushion.
“I’m ready,” he told her.
She positioned herself behind him, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She began to speak but must have thought better of it, because the next thing Aelyx knew, she’d struck him directly between the shoulder blades.
Aelyx tasted the electricity before he felt it, but the sting quickly followed. His muscles clenched, skin burning as the stench of singed flesh filled his nose. She struck again and then again in quick succession. Sweat beaded across Aelyx’s brow. His lungs ached to cry out, but he gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound. He wouldn’t burden Syrine with the knowledge of his pain.
On and on it went. The sickening zap of the lash echoed against the high ceilings, punctuated by Syrine’s wet sobs. Once she reached twenty strokes, Stepha told her to stop.
“Are you contrite, brother?” Stepha asked.
Aelyx couldn’t speak, so he nodded. He’d never felt so contrite in his life. Black spots danced in his line of vision, and he knew he’d never make it back to his room. With limbs weaker than onionskin, he pushed away from the sofa and lay on the carpet, letting the air flow freely over his lacerated back.
After the ambassador retired to the master suite, Syrine knelt by Aelyx’s side. She dabbed medicated salve on his burns and whispered “I’m sorry” a hundred times. He wanted to tell her this wasn’t the kind of apology he’d wanted, but those dancing black spots merged into one, and he surrendered to oblivion.
The next morning, Aelyx awoke facedown on his bed, unsure of how he’d made it there. He squinted against the early sunlight and discovered Syrine on the floor beside his mattress, fast asleep with an open bottle of salve in hand. Before he had a chance to whisper her name, she blinked awake, as if sensing him.
She sat up and flashed a palm, her eyes reddened by tears. “Don’t move. I added another layer to your fahren wrap an hour ago. I need to wash it off.”
Syrine rushed to the bathroom and returned with several damp towels. When she placed the first on Aelyx’s back, he held his breath and braced for the pain, but all he felt was warm moisture. He relaxed at once.
“Okay?” she asked, blotting his skin. “Is this too hard?”
“I barely feel a thing. What did you do to me?”
While removing the dried salve from his back, she whispered, “I gave you two analgesic injections and a healing accelerant. The fahren wrap is cosmetic, so you won’t scar.”
Those medicines were hard to find on Earth. “Where did you get all of that?”
“Easy,” she said. “I liberated the medic kit from Stepha’s suite after he fell asleep.”
Grinning, Aelyx glanced at her over his shoulder. “I truly have corrupted you.”
Syrine didn’t return his smile. Her eyes welled with fresh tears as she dried his skin and smoothed on a final layer of ointment. “He never said I couldn’t heal you. Technically, I haven’t disobeyed him.”
When the treatment was complete, Aelyx sat up and faced her. Thank you. I’m sorry you had to do that—any of it. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.
Syrine gaped as if he’d told her the Sacred Mother wore combat boots. You’re apologizing to me?
Yes, it was my fault.
No. She shook her head and burned a glare into his skull. Don’t say that. I hurt you, not only last night, but months ago on the transport. And I never said I was sorry. Now I’m saying it: I’m sorry.
After last night, Aelyx didn’t need to hear it anymore. He held out a hand. I just want my friend back.
Tears spilled down Syrine’s cheeks as she took his hand in both of hers. She gave him a watery smile. I never left.