'Don't cross me, boy! I shed no tears for one more dead esper, but I have no tolerance for traitors, no matter where they may be found. And high station is no protection against the will of the Lord.'
'How very reassuring,' said Valentine, and then said nothing more. The moment lengthened and the tension grew. The Vicar scowled at Valentine.
'You look like a degenerate. Wipe that paint off your face.'
Everyone stared at the two men, breathless in the spectacle of two legendary wills clashing. And then Valentine took one more step forward, so that his face was right before Kassar's. His crimson smile widened, and his dark eyes didn't waver at all.
'Lick it off.'
Kassar looked at him, his mouth a tight white line. His hand hovered over his sword, but he didn't draw it. If he did, and killed the Wolfe heir in his own home, he would be committing the Church to full vendetta against Clan Wolfe. Rich and influential as it was, the Wolfes couldn't hope to stand against the full might of the Church for long, but… if the Wolfes did somehow win the contract for the new stardrive, and the Church had to come cap in hand to Clan Wolfe for the new starships… Kassar turned his back on Valentine and walked away, and everyone started breathing again. Valentine smiled at Gregor and Evangeline.
'My apologies for the unwelcome intrusion. My people will take care of it.'
The Shreck sniffed. 'Damn esper filth. If he hadn't killed himself, I'd have had him shot. We're too soft on espers. You can't trust them.'
'They're still people, Father,' said Evangeline softly. 'Like clones.'
'Better not let the Vicar hear you say that,' said Valentine easily. The position on espers and clones is quite clear. They exist only as the result of scientific progress and are therefore property. The Church won't even admit they have souls. Now, if you'll excuse me…'
He bowed low, and turned and walked away. A murmur of quiet congratulations surrounded him as he moved through the crowd. The Church had been putting pressure on all the Families just recently over tithes and was not as popular as it might have been among the aristocracy. Gregor waited until Valentine was safely out of earshot, then grabbed Evangeline by the arm again, squeezing hard till the pain made her gasp.
'Never do that again. You must never draw attention to yourself with such views on espers or clones. Neither of us could afford an investigation into your background. No one must ever find out about you.'
He gave her arm one last shake and then released her and stalked away, his face an angry red. People hurried to get out of his way. Evangeline put her hand to her aching arm, alone in the middle of the crowd, but then she always was. Evangeline was a clone, grown secretly by her father to replace the original Evangeline, who had died in an accident. His eldest daughter had been his favorite, and he couldn't bear to live without her. And since no one had seen her die but him, he used a great deal of money and influence and had his dead daughter cloned. He taught her everything she needed to know, then cautiously released her into society. After a long but vague illness. She did well. She'd always been a quick study. Or so her father told her. Everyone accepted her as the real Evangeline. They had no reason not to. But a single gene test was all it would take to reveal her true origin, damning herself and her father. Replacement by their own clone was the aristocrat's ultimate nightmare. She'd be destroyed (not executed, only people were executed), and her father would be stripped of his tide and banished.
She hadn't told Finlay Campbell she was a clone, even though he'd trusted her with the secret of his other life as the Masked Gladiator. She hadn't worked up the courage yet. She loved him, she trusted him, but… But. Would he still love her if he knew she was only a clone? She liked to think he would, but… She smiled humorlessly. If she couldn't trust him with that, how could she tell him about her links to the clone and esper undergrounds? That was, after all, why she'd turned off the Wolfe esp-blockers, so that the elves could smuggle the zealot in…
She knew her thoughts were drifting this way and that, but she didn't seem able to control them. She owed so many loyalties to so many people: her father, the undergrounds, Finlay… and failing any one of them could lead to her disgrace and death. She had to watch every word, every action, different lies for different people. Sometimes she just wanted to scream for everything to stop, for all the pressure to go away, but she couldn't. She couldn't afford to be noticed doing anything unusual. Occasionally she thought of killing herself, but then she always thought of Finlay and how safe she felt in his arms. One day she would tell him, and then… One day.
She looked up to see Finlay casually approaching her, as though he just happened to be drifting in her direction. Her heart speeded up, and a betraying warmth flushed her cheeks. Finlay stopped before her and bowed courteously, and she nodded coolly in return. Just two heirs to different Clans who happened to have met in a public place. Finlay smiled at her, and she smiled back.
'My dear Evangeline,' said Finlay easily. 'You're looking very well. I trust the unfortunate incident with the esper didn't upset you unduly?'
'Not at all, Finlay. I'm sure Wolfe security already has things well in hand. You're looking quite splendid yourself. Is that another new outfit?'
'Of course. I do so hate to repeat myself. As one of the secret Grand Masters of fashion, I have an obligation to be innovative and shocking at all times. It's in my contract. Your hand is empty; could I perhaps get you a small glass of punch?'
Evangeline shook her head firmly. She'd seen the punch. It was bright pink, reportedly extremely alcoholic, and had hits of unidentified fruit floating in it. Some of them seemed to be slowly dissolving. And given that the punch had been provided by the Wolfes, there was always the chance Valentine had spiked it with something dramatic and disconcerting. Most of the guests had had the sense and foresight to bring their own drinks. Finlay smiled and produced a delicately worked silver flask from an inner pocket. He removed the cap and poured her a generous drink. Evangeline sniffed it inquiringly, then grinned at the warm aroma of good brandy. She sipped it carefully and allowed her eyes to meet Finlay's. She could feel her breathing quickening, and when she handed the cap back to Finlay for him to drink, his fingers lingered on hers.
'Now that our two Families are to be joined in marriage, perhaps we shall have occasion to meet more often,' murmured Finlay.
'That would be most pleasant,' said Evangeline. 'I am sure we might discover some interests in common.'
'Right now what you've got in common is a good stiff drink, and I'd kill for some,' said a familiar loud voice. Evangeline didn't need to look round to know who it was.
There was never any doubt of Adrienne Campbell's presence. Evangeline and Finlay shared one last understanding glance, and then turned to face Finlay's infamous wife. Adrienne pointedly held out an empty glass, and Finlay filled it to the brim with brandy. She took a good gulp and nodded approvingly.
'One of your few virtues, Finlay. You're vain and shallow and have absolutely no idea how to treat a lady, but you do know your booze. If it wasn't for your wine cellar, I'd have divorced you years ago. Evangeline, my dear, haven't seen you to talk to in absolutely ages. That's a very… striking outfit you're wearing. Do feel free to come to me for advice on style and presentation at any time.' She held out her glass to Finlay for a refill, and he obliged without comment. Adrienne's capacity for drink was legendary even in a court noted for its excesses. She smiled nastily at her husband over the glass. 'Good brandy, Finlay. I like my booze like I like my men: strong, mysterious and tempting.'
'Really,' said Finlay. 'I wouldn't know.'
'Damn right you wouldn't,' said Adrienne. She looked back at Evangeline, who had to fight to keep from flinching. 'It's time you were looking for a husband for yourself, my dear. Your father monopolizes your time far too much. Husbands can be boring, irksome and a general pain in the ass, but you have to have one if you want to get on in society. Personally, I wouldn't be without one, especially when it conies to picking up the tab. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really ought to have a word with our nervous bride and groom. Someone has to tell them the facts of life.'
'And who better than you?' murmured Finlay.
Adrienne smiled. 'Quite.'
She stalked off through the crowd, opening up a path for herself through sheer strength of personality. Her intended prey didn't even realize she was coming. The groom, Robert Campbell, was currently being supported and encouraged by his cousin Finlay's brothers, William and Gerald Campbell. Robert's father had been the Campbell's younger brother, who died three months previously in an accident the Family still didn't like to talk about. Mostly because it was so damn embarrassing. In order to keep Robert and his branch of the Family from becoming a
