by Kit Tunstall
“Eat.” He glared as he issued the directive.
Madison shook her head. “I can’t. I’ll throw up.”
His eyes glowed with fierce light. “Eat now, or so help me, I’ll pry open your mouth and shove it down myself. You can’t keep starving yourself. It isn’t good for you or the baby.”
Her hands shook as she reached for a fork. If she had more strength, she might have tried arguing, but she could easily picture him trying to force-feed her. If she had to try to get it down, she’d prefer to keep a modicum of dignity and do it herself. Holding her breath, she put a bite of eggs in her mouth, chewing a few times before forcing it down. Almost immediately, bile brought it back up, and she had to run for the bathroom, barely making it before emptying the meager contents of her stomach into the commode.
When she looked up from her debilitating round of sickness, Tiernan stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of irritation and concern. Was he irritated that she hadn’t kept down the food, or was he irritated that he worried about her? No, not her, but the baby.
Madison tried to get up and swayed, automatically protesting when he came over to help her to her feet. It was the first time they had touched in weeks, and heat scorched her skin under his hand, igniting her senses and causing her to sway toward him. Immediately, she straightened her spine, praying he would think the momentary lapse was weakness of the physical, not emotional or sexual, sort.
“You can’t keep on like this,” he said as he led her to the sink.
After washing her mouth and brushing her teeth, she said, “I told you I couldn’t eat it.”
He sighed. “There must be something you can keep down. If not, Oritz is going to put you in the hospital for intravenous fluids and nutrition.”
Madison shook her head. As much as she wanted to escape the capitol building, going to the hospital would be no less a prison. A shudder ran through her. “I don’t want to see him ever again. I won’t. Do you understand?”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with Oritz?”
She turned her head, not trying to verbalize an explanation. Really, what could she say? There was no specific reason she didn’t like Oritz, other than she associated him with Tiernan and all the ways he had hurt her recently. “I want Susan,” was all she said.
“Fine, but she’s going to say the same thing if you don’t start eating.” He softened his tone. “There must be something that sounds good? I don’t care what it is. If I have to send troops to the N.N.E. colonies for lobster, I will.”
She managed a small smile. “That won’t be necessary.” Closing her eyes, she tried to envision a food, any food, that didn’t make her cringe or her stomach churn. Finally, she opened her eyes. “I’d like some chevre and lightly toasted sourdough bread with a side of grilled tomatoes.”
He held her arm as he led her back to the table before disappearing to make her order a reality. Madison eyed the rest of the food dispassionately, finding nothing else stirred her appetite. The strawberries brought a new round of queasiness, but only because they reminded her of the night she had told Tiernan she loved him. Obviously, he had never believed her, and he certainly hadn’t reciprocated.
Forcing her thoughts from that, to avoid spoiling her fledgling appetite, she tried to think of other things. Everything that came to mind seemed guaranteed to spark a new round of animosity between them, and she couldn’t seem to find a safe topic, so she kept silent when he returned a few moments later with a tray he must have gone to the kitchen to fetch. She would have found his caretaking touching if he hadn’t already shown her how little care he’d take of her if the baby weren’t a factor.
Under his watchful eye, which was unnerving, Madison spread the softened goat cheese on the lightly toasted bread before topping it with a grilled tomato. The first bite went down okay, as did the next, and halfway through the piece of bread, she realized she was hungry. Ravenous, in fact. The toast, chevre, and tomatoes quickly disappeared, and she managed to eat two slices of bacon and an apple as well.
Tiernan nodded with satisfaction when she had finished. “I have to go now, but I want you to request anything you think you can eat from your guard at any time. Perhaps I’ll be able to join you for lunch.”
At the news she still had a guard, the queasiness returned. “Don’t bother please. I can eat just fine without you.” Why did it still hurt to know he had let her out of the tower, but hadn’t revoked her prisoner status? Would she have expected anything else of him, since he believed she was a rebel out to get him?
His expression closed, and he gave her an abrupt nod before turning and leaving the suite without a word. She had the sense she might have hurt his feelings, which brought a spark of guilt. Now that made her laugh out loud. Why would she feel guilty for hurting him when he had done nothing but hurt her for the past three weeks?
That answer didn’t require much probing to determine. Fool that she was, she still had feelings for him. She was a sorry mess to still have any tender emotions lingering for the man who had treated her so badly. Madison knew she would have to remain on her guard to fight any impulse that could lead her to getting her heart broken again.
*****
Tiernan spent the morning flipping through the journal Aidan had discovered. After a once-over, he opened it from the beginning and started reading each entry. The more he read, the less convinced he was that Madison had written the journal. There were inconsistencies with his schedule and events that hadn’t actually happened. Most suspiciously, she had supposedly made notes on days when he knew she had been volunteering, so she wouldn’t have been around to spy on him and write down what he’d been doing.
After staring at the cramped writing for more than two hours, he picked up the wretched book and dumped it back in his desk drawer, where he locked it with a key he kept in his pocket. His head ached from trying to decipher the words, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Still without clear answers, Tiernan knew there was just one place he might find more details. However, he didn’t think Briggs would be eager to tell him anything truthful, so he had to be prepared to deal ruthlessly with the man. His mother had been a staunch believer in the process of law. Catherine Archer had often told him you couldn’t handle barbarity with barbarity—which was contrary to how his grandfather had ruled. He’d only known Joseph for ten years or so, but he remembered the old man telling him on a couple of occasions that a ruler sometimes had to get their hands dirty and do the unpleasant things, especially if it was for the people.
He couldn’t justify his plan to interrogate Briggs as justice for the people. The tribunal had already found him guilty, and he would be executed at the next punishment day, in a little over a week. It was purely for his own edification, and Madison’s exoneration, that he would be facing the man again. Without proper motivation, he knew Briggs would never open up. It still remained doubtful that he would be honest. Tiernan had finally thought it through, as he should have done in the beginning, and was analyzing Briggs’s words. There was a lot to doubt about them. Why hadn’t he had the common sense to do so three weeks ago?
He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the answer. He had been too angry and too hurt by the mere possibility that Madison had betrayed him to think logically and try to sort out the truth from the lies. Having reacted from emotion, he hadn’t been able to take a step back and think it through. No, he’d been committed to his destructive path. Shifting again, he acknowledged he had set out to punish Madison, to make her pay for betraying him, and he had been so angry, so intent on lashing out, that he hadn’t been able to consider she was innocent. It wasn’t until he’d faced the possibility of losing her and the baby last night that he’d finally realized what he’d done.
No longer hesitating, or uncertain about his ability to interrogate Briggs, he pushed away from his desk to make his way out of the capitol building to the jail, where Briggs had a cell in isolation. Perhaps he was surrendering a bit of his civility by doing
what he planned, but that was a small price to pay for a future with Madison. If she was innocent, he owed it to her to find that out—as he should have done weeks ago—and then do everything in his power to make it up to her. That task seemed monumental in comparison to what he was about to undertake.
*****
Susan brought someone with her when she came to check on Madison. “This is Joan.” She patted the older woman on the shoulder. “She’s the best midwife I know, and used to be one of my professors when I was in medical school.”
Madison shook her leathery hand, impressed by the strength remaining in the deceptively fragile fingers. “How do you do, Joan?”
Joan tipped her head. “More importantly, how are you, miss?”
“I managed to eat some breakfast.”
“And you’ve had a change of accommodations,” noted Susan, clearly pleased. “I’m glad for that.”
“I’m not,” said Madison with a rueful twist of her lips. “I’ve just traded one prison for another.” And the man who had put her in that tower to start with inhabited this cell.
Susan squeezed her shoulders in a one-armed hug. “He’ll come around.”
Madison shook her head. “I don’t want him to, Susan. I just want to get through this, have the baby, and be allowed some freedom. The last thing I want is to reunite with Tiernan.”
Joan cleared her throat. “Well, let’s check on that little one then.” After Madison was in position for an exam, she saw to it quickly and thoroughly, nodding as she finished. “You can get up now. I think everything appears in order. Your cervix is tight as a drum. Keep eating and resting, and you’ll deliver a fine Archer.”
Madison nodded, righting her clothes. “I’m going to take better care of us.”
Susan smiled. “Speaking of Archers, did you know Joan delivered the commander?”
She eyed the other woman with interest. “It’s hard to picture his mother having a midwife. I’d see her as more of the hospital type, from what I know of her.”
Joan nodded. “I was a doctor then, my dear, working at the Archer hospital. It took me a few more years after the birth to become disillusioned with the type of medicine those doctors practice, reserved only for the privileged, and leave as Susan had already done. Once I did, I specialized in midwifery.”
Madison smiled. “I do appreciate you coming, Joan, and I’m pleased to benefit from your experience.”
“It’s my pleasure, dear. I’d love to see another Archer enter the world.” Her lined face wrinkled with a kindly smile. “I won’t come every trip, but I’ll be back to see you often enough that you’ll be tired of me before the little one arrives.”
Madison shook her head. “Any company is welcome.” After spending three weeks in virtual isolation, she was speaking from the heart. It had been a lonely, miserable time that she didn’t want to dwell on or relive. Other than Tiernan, she was happy to see anyone who wanted to visit her. She was still working on convincing herself she would be happy never to see his face again.
*****
Briggs looked worse for wear. He’d lost a few pounds, though the blackened eye had healed. Apparently, no one had laid a hand on him since that first night. Tiernan knew the tribunal had deemed interrogation unnecessary, based on the weight of the evidence, and had found him guilty within minutes.
Tiernan set down the case the interrogator had provided as he walked around Briggs, confined to the chair by his wrists and ankles. “You look okay for a dead man, Briggs.”
Briggs gave him a cocky grin. “I ain’t dead yet, Archer. A lot can happen in a week.”
Tiernan inclined his head. “A lot can happen in a few minutes, Briggs.” He turned back to open the metal case, wincing at some of the implements he found inside. “For example, you could spend the next few minutes in pleasant conversation, giving me a truthful account, or…” He held up a pair of snips stained with bits of blood. “We can do it the hard way.”
Briggs looked at the tool and sneered. “You don’t have the balls, Archer. Besides, what difference does it make now? I’ve been sentenced. Any confession you get would only be superfluous. It won’t change my punishment.” Cocking his head, he asked slyly, “Or will it?”
Tiernan took a couple of steps toward him, struggling to control his breathing and dampen any second thoughts about torturing Briggs, if necessary. “How do you mean?”
“Are you going to give me a lighter sentence if I sing like a canary?”
He shook his head. “I can’t go against the tribunal.”
Briggs lifted a shoulder. “Then what’s in it for me to have a heart-to-heart, Archer?”
He loomed over the other man, not missing the faint widening of his eyes or the way his nostrils flared. Despite Briggs’s bravado, he was clearly scared. So was Tiernan, but he wouldn’t let that show. “For one, you get to keep all your fingers.”
Briggs eyed the snips. “Uh huh.”
Tiernan twirled them. “You know, I can’t commute your sentence, or change it, but I can push out the execution date to the next punishment day.”
He rolled his eyes. “Like you’d be doing me a favor, keeping me alive in this hellhole for another month.”
Tiernan leaned closer, letting all his anger show in his eyes. “You misunderstand me, Briggs. I’m not offering you the privilege of living another month. I’m threatening you with it. I guarantee you, it will be a very long month.” He brought the snips against Briggs’s face, scoring a light mark on his cheek. “We’ll have plenty of time to chat.”
Briggs hesitated, but finally shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. I just don’t think you have it in you.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” asked Tiernan, as he brought the snips to Briggs’s thumb, clamping around the squirming digit. “Now, tell me what Madison was doing at your rebel camp.”
“Fucking me.” Briggs screamed as the snips cut through his flesh.
Tiernan lightened the pressure a bit, but kept the tool digging into his skin. “I think you’re lying.”
“Fine, I didn’t fuck her.” Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“How did she pass along all the information she was supposedly sharing?”
Briggs darted his eyes without speaking, but cried out again when Tiernan tightened the snips around his finger, surely scraping against the bone. “She met with a contact every week.”
“Where?”
Briggs gasped as the tool dug deeper.
“The truth. Now,” said Tiernan in a commanding tone.
“She wasn’t working with us. I was going to kill her to send you a message.” He gave a pitiful little mewl when Tiernan loosened the snips. “I just wanted you to suffer, Archer.”
Tiernan took a step back. “Why? I’ve tried my best to provide for everyone in the Federation.”
Briggs snorted. “Yeah, then why’s the rations lighter than ever?”
He frowned. “You’re the one stealing from them to feed your rebels.”
Briggs shook his head, but didn’t argue.
Another question occurred to Tiernan. “How long have you known Madison?”
Briggs frowned. “That day was the first time I met her.”
“Hmm.” He made a production of studying the fresh blood on the snips. “Then who was it she greeted so warmly? Who tricked her into going with you?”
Briggs clamped his mouth shut. “I ain’t betraying no one.”
“Really?” Moving quickly, he grabbed Briggs’s hand again, not allowing himself to have second thoughts. It took a lot of pressure, more than he would have expected, before the bone yielded to the snips with a sickening crunch that had Briggs screaming and Tiernan choking on acidic bile he hastily swallowed. The squelching sound of yielding flesh would haunt him forever, and the blood that had sprayed on his hand from Briggs seemed to be burning his skin, though that was strictly his imagination.
As the amputated digit dropped to the floor, he moved the snips to the next finger, silently prayi
ng he wouldn’t have to cut off another one. It was a gruesome task for which he had no affinity. “Do you want to reconsider that decision?”
Briggs twisted in the chair, clearly in agony, but he shook his head. “Fuck you, Archer. I ain’t got nothing left to lose.”
“Wrong.” With dogged determination, fueled by necessity rather than desire, Tiernan cut off his index finger. He knew what to expect this time, how the flesh would initially yield like butter, before hitting stubborn bone that required a greater degree of exertion. Even with a bit of experience now, he still found it just as disgusting as the first time when he cut off the finger. “You have eight more to lose. Shall I keep going?” He kept his expression mildly curious, though he wasn’t sure about his own ability to continue if Briggs held out. Could he really do that again? Summoning a mental image of Madison renewed his resolve. Yes, he could do it for her.