Rebel Song (23 page)

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Authors: Amanda J. Clay

BOOK: Rebel Song
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CHAPTER 31

Elyra mustered her confidence as she approached Hugh Pantone’s office at the end of the East Wing corridor. She could smell the cigar smoke seeping out from beneath the door. With a cocktail of nerves and annoyance sloshing inside her, she knocked.

“Please come in,” Pantone called out.

Elyra stepped in. In deliberate disrespect she hadn’t bothered  with ceremony and was dressed down in a pair of black jeans and a long tunic shirt.

“You requested to see me?” She said, barely hiding her annoyance at being summoned this late in the evening,
especially by him.

“Thank you for coming.” He didn’t bother getting up from his chair. His insolence infuriated her but she was not going to let it show. “Please, sit.”

She took a seat in the chair across from him and leaned back.

“What do you want? I cannot imagine you have anything to say I’m eager to hear,” Elyra said. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with our beloved Minister Falcon I hear.”

Elyra’s skin prickled at the smug accusation in his tone.

“We have been known to collaborate on projects, yes. She shares my interest for public works. And what business of that is yours?”

Pantone sipped his brandy and took his time responding.

“There are rumors that you are promoting an alternate candidate for Minister General,” he said frankly.

She raised an eyebrow.

“You should hold yourself above rumors my dear Minister. Besides, you know as well as I that I am not allowed to participate in public elections. It would be seen as a conflict of interest.”

“That is true,” he said without resolve. “Rumors are nasty things, aren’t they?”

“Indeed they are. But even if I
did
happen to be supporting another candidate, are you so insecure about competition?”

Pantone smirked.

“You think you’re a very clever girl, don’t you?” He asked looking down thoughtfully at his brandy.

Elyra stared at him, unwavering.

“I know I am, Pantone. As do you. You all underestimate me.”

Pantone huffed out a small laugh.

“We do, don’t we?” He paused. “Your father tells me you are being most uncooperative on some very important matters.”

Elyra groaned and made a show of rolling her eyes.

“My God, is that what this is about? When will everyone learn to mind their own damn business?”

Hugh Pantone chuckled.

“This rebellion seems to be growing stronger by the day.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Wouldn’t you?” He raised an eyebrow and sipped his brandy in a way that made Elyra squirm. Silence fell over the room for a few stiff moments.

“You know this brandy is aged nearly forty years,” Pantone finally said.

“How wonderful for you.”

“When it was first made, it was bright and tart with an edge, a new varietal that was all the rage. But it was young—nothing compared to the mature complexity that it has now.” He swirled the amber liquid in his snifter glass and examined the smooth drops clinging to the sides. “You see, there is no substitute for age. No matter how exciting or new it might seem.”

“That is true,” she nodded. “But only if the barrel doesn’t become contaminated, turning what was once quality to rot.” She allowed herself only a hint of satisfied smile.

Pantone gave a placid smile.

“Clever girl,” he muttered.

“What is it that you want?” She was rapidly growing frustrated with their cryptic dialogue.

“I want this clever girl to listen to reason. Keep your pretty nose out of politics and buried in public works where it belongs.”

Elyra’s eyes went cold.

“This might come as a shock to you, but I don’t answer to you. I will put my pretty nose where I want.”

“Not yet, you don’t little princess. But you will by the time I’m through.”

“That sounds a lot like a threat.” She narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t make threats. I make promises.”

“Is that so? Then why bother negotiating at all if my demise is inevitable?”

“Because it’s up to you how you want to live out your servitude. You can get with the program and be a loyal, obedient servant of this state or you can rot in a cell for treason.”

“Treason?”  She laughed with disbelief. “You stand there threatening me and accuse
me
of treason?”

“You’d be smart to take this seriously, little girl. Treason is a very serious claim.”

“On what possible grounds could you possibly hold up a charge like that? I think you’ve finally lost your mind, Hugh.”

“Would you prefer to be declared mentally incompetent? Because surely your blatant disregard of your station could only be credited to such.”

“You have gone too far.”

“Tell me, did you really think that you could run around the city spreading your legs for some rebel dirt farmer and no one would bat an eye?” Pantone spat the vile words out.

Elyra’s breath caught and a wave of shock punched her in the lungs. Had a desk not sat between them, she would have slapped him. She tried to maintain her composure, digging her nails into the chair’s wooden arms. Pantone grinned.

“I can tell by your dumbfounded expression that you really thought I wouldn’t find out. You truly are naïve,” he said with disgust.

She shook her head slowly.

“How dare you speak to me like that? I don’t know what your people have been telling you—.”

He threw up his hand to silence her.

“Don’t bother. I’ve more eyes in this city than the Secret Guard. You don’t piss without me knowing about it. And besides, I have proof.” He flung a photograph at her. She picked it up gingerly. It was of her and Rogan in front of Viola’s Fried Bread Stand, his hand touching her cheek affectionately. She cursed herself for how careless they’d been. After slipping through the cracks unnoticed for so long they had let down their guard. “And there are plenty more,” he went on.

The realization of her predicament overwhelmed her, but she was not going to cower to slimy Hugh Pantone. She shrugged.

“So what if I have some extracurricular activities? There’s no law against that or else every lord and politician in this court would be hanged for their indiscretions.”

“We shall see if your father shares your nonchalant attitude about the situation.”

Elyra clenched her jaw.

“You will not tell him. This is no one’s business but my own.”

Pantone shook his head.

“Tsk, tsk for being so selfish. Once the media gets hold of the story, it will very much be your father’s business. And your poor, sensitive mother. What will she think to learn her daughter has whored herself out to someone so beneath her? I can see the headlines now. ‘Princess Royale beds notorious traitor’s son.’ It has a nice ring, does it not?”

Nausea clutched her stomach as she digested the magnitude of the proposed consequences. Her reputation aside, what would a scandal like this do to Rogan and his family? And if his cause found out? And Markus…Would he have someone slit his throat in the middle of the night and no one would ever be the wiser as to the culprit?

“I can also tell by your expression that his family history is not a shock to you. Knowing his rebel ties and still getting involved? Shame on you.”

“Who else knows?” She muttered, sudden fear crippling her courage.

“Markus doesn’t know yet, if that’s what you mean,” he said as if he were reading her thoughts. “Oh, he has his suspicions. After he saw you practically parading yourself with him in public at that hunger fest. Really Elyra, what were you thinking? But I have subdued his suspicions for now. And if you do as you’re told, it can stay that way.”

She looked into his haughty eyes and searched for a hint of humanity. She found none.

“So now we play let’s negotiate, I suppose.”

Pantone nodded with satisfaction.

“There’s the clever girl. I knew you’d come ‘round.” 

“So what is it that you want? For me to run off to the nunnery and leave running Arelanda to the big boys?”

“Hardly my dear. Quite the opposite. But you
will
shut your mouth about supporting a contender. I don’t need you singing my good name from the roof but I don’t want to hear any more talk of you embracing reform.”

“Winning elections through blackmail now are we? I suppose that shouldn’t be surprising. Anything else?”

“Why now that you mention it, yes. The state funds are dwindling. The war is sucking our revenue dry.”

“Shocking,” Elyra quipped.

Pantone ignored her.

“We are also at an impasse with Emperor Dubis, who has promised a ceasefire and access to the essential trade route in exchange for adequate compensation, something we will not give him. We will need to build our military forces to take the routes by force, but unfortunately we lack the funds.”

“Well I’m afraid my personal accounts are a little short.”

“You have something so much more powerful than money, my dear princess.” He smiled wryly and ran his eyes up and down her figure. Elyra felt the nausea creep in.

“I’d sooner cut out my tongue and join the silent sisterhood,” she said with disgust.

He laughed.

“Please child. I’d rather screw a bleating sheep than listen to your shrill whining.”

Elyra glowered but felt some satisfaction that his distaste for her was enough to deflect any potential lust.

“But for some reason incomprehensible to me, Markus is obsessed with you.”

Here we go,
she thought.

“Obsession is a strong word Pantone.” Sickness gripped her.

“Well Markus is a passionate man, my girl. I know you’re dense, but not that dense. A royal marriage for the Fallon house will bring serious power, influence and prestige to Hildon Fallon, who happens to have more wealth than the entire Arelanda treasury. Fallon’s own nephews as direct heirs to the throne? He would never pass up the chance. Such pride opens up a man’s purse.” Pantone’s voice was syrupy.

“So you would pimp out the most important woman in Arelanda to fund your stupid war? I guess my suspicions were right—you have no soul.”


Stupid
war? We’re battling for the freedom of the West, my dear child. Defeating the Suelli is necessary to our liberties.”

“Or necessary for your access to oil.”

He glowered.

“You don’t want to see what happens if we lose this war. Right now the outcome is looking bleak. We need access to those trade routes. And we need Hildon’s allegiance to do so. Agree to this and you will be saving our nation. You could be a hero.”

“No,” she said shaking her head fervently. “My father can’t ask it of me and you most certainly cannot. I’m not a chess piece. I’m the Princess Royale!”

“Yes, yes I can,” Pantone responded calmly. He walked to the table bar and filled up his own snifter and another. He handed the glass to Elyra. She swiped it angrily and shot it all back in one swig, tickling Pantone’s smug grin. “Think of the scandal it will cause should your indiscretions become public. Think of your poor boyfriend. Is he prepared to be under scrutiny by the entire nation? Does his family even know of your little trysts? Do they want their family wounds sliced open to bleed in the court of public opinion? And I wonder what Markus will say when he finds out what his darling princess has been up to…”

“You dare to blackmail me. You forget yourself.” Her face burned.

Pantone ignored her.

“I hear a new leader is emerging in this thing they call a ‘cause.’ Do you think this traitor’s son knows anything about that? Maybe it’s time we do some digging into what he does in his spare time besides ruining your life. Shall I have him brought in for questioning?”

“You will leave him alone.”

“Perhaps if you are cooperative, I just might. What I’ve been wondering though, is where you find the privacy to bed your little boyfriend? Does he lay you down in the dirt or in the barn amongst the sheep?”

Without thinking Elyra jumped to her feet and struck Pantone across his pudgy face. Invigoration swelled inside her at the sting of her palm on his flesh. Pantone stood unmoved, then sneered.

“If you used half the energy and passion for your career as you do being a love-sick little girl you might actually be successful,” he said dryly.

“Your evil deeds rarely surprise me anymore Hugh, but this time you have crossed the line.”

“I am giving you the choice to save yourself. Play by my rules or suffer the consequences. It’s entirely up to you.”

“You will not succeed in this.” She folded her arms across her chest.

Hugh Pantone only smiled thoughtfully at her.

“My dear,” he said patronizingly. “I already have. I will give you time to think over this very intelligent decision.”

Elyra stomped her way to the office door.

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