Ruskoff had also caught Daniel flat-footed. He found his voice, quivering and shaking back in a dark corner of his mind. “You can’t. People wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand,” he finished with a nod at the other line officers. He knew why the offer had come, and worried that Ruskoff might unmask himself and what small part he had played in the Uprising of 3128. Not a good idea. The Legate needed a united force. He needed a decisive victory.

“I need him,” the Legate said, dismissing Daniel’s unspoken arguments. “Lord Governor Hidic has already agreed to sign an order of amnesty.” That stunned the entire room. Eve Kincaid glanced sharply toward Daniel. Lwellen sat back down and Daniel sagged back against the wall, his legs suddenly unable to bear much weight.

Ruskoff waited to make certain he had everyone’s attention. He most certainly did. “If we are to reclaim the moral high ground, with citizens and Capellan residents both, we need to set an example that redemption is possible. What better way?” The military officer walked over to Daniel, pulled him off the wall and forced him to stand upright. “Daniel is a son of Liao. We can use that in our favor.”

“I would like to confirm this,” Lwellen said, jumping back to his feet like some kind of military jack-in-the-box. Ruskoff’s handling had him rattled and off balance, no doubt as the Legate had intended from the moment he’d walked into the room. Daniel stood silent as the colonel left the room. Lady Kincaid remained.

“You did not have to do this,” Daniel said once the door rattled shut behind Lwellen.

“Yes,” Ruskoff said. “I did.” He left Daniel’s side and moved back to his earlier perch on the edge of his desk. He looked at once commanding and compassionate. Daniel had not seen the latter in some time. “I need experienced soldiers, and you’re still one of the most able Mech Warriors on the planet. And I meant what I said to Lwellen. You might be valuable in proving the power of redemption to the Capellans.”

Lady Kincaid leaned forward. “But that’s not why you did this,” she said. Perhaps guessing, perhaps not.

The Legate smiled thinly. “Not completely, no.” He said nothing more on it.

She climbed gingerly to her feet, set her glass next to Lwellen’s. “The Black Paladin rides again?” she asked. She stepped over to look Daniel up and down very carefully. In the past few days Daniel had gotten to know people’s expressions very well when it came to judging him. Eve Kincaid’s was different. She seemed to measure something deeper than his actions. “Maybe,” was her final judgment.

Then she limped out the door.

Ruskoff met Daniel’s gaze. “If I can forgive myself, I can begin to forgive you. What you do from here is in fate’s hands.” He glanced at the door. “Lwellen will be finding out any moment that the Lord Governor’s promise is contingent on a lot of things, including proof of your rehabilitation and your testimony in a great deal of hearings. So I suggest you absent yourself for the unflattering discussion we will have on the merits of your case. Unless you do not trust me to look after your interests.”

Daniel shook his head, throat pinched closed and unable to speak.

“Go on, then, Daniel. Get some rest and come in fresh for our morning’s planning session. If we’re going to force the Dynasty Guard to stand and fight, we’ll need to convince Hidic to back our play with every last soldier he can spare.”

“I won’t let you down,” Daniel promised, finding his voice again. It was stronger this time.

The Legate was less sanguine. “You might,” he said. “You might. It’s a long road back.” But if his doubts included any serious thoughts of rescinding the offer, Ruskoff hid it well. He shrugged, offered a tight smile and an encouraging nod. “But I don’t believe it will be for lack of trying.”

“No.” The fallen Paladin tried on a weak smile, and felt it strain at the corners. “Never that.” He already knew that he wouldn’t wait until morning. If Ruskoff was extending this very last attempt at redemption, there was one more thing he could do. Something he could not even tell the Legate he intended to try.

Yiling (Chang-an)

Qinghai Province, Liao

Evan Kurst had let Jenna alone as they both worked through their grief. They were there for each other, certainly, but with Hahn’s death and David Parks’s loss to the Conservatory, they escaped into solitude rather than each other’s arms. Just as well. As House Ijori rose from the ashes, there was much to think about.

Now Evan was thinking about rekindling their start at a serious relationship.

Standing in the commons that separated his dormitory from hers, he leaned against the low bend of elm, watching moths dance around the overhead lamps. The bark rubbed rough against his bared forearms, and his feet were cold from standing in the wet, unmowed grass. He walked himself through what he might say. If she gave him the chance. Jen was a strong woman who also knew what she wanted, and might not give him much time to say anything one way or another. Evan had to admit, such forcefulness had its charms as well. He smiled, laughing at himself, joking up the courage for that last step forward.

He never made it. Footfalls padded to an uneasy stop behind him. The quiet was expectant. Evan couldn’t help but turn.

Daniel Peterson nodded. “Hello, Evan.”

Evan reached for his pistol, forgetting in the sudden burst of adrenaline that he’d traded his cadet corps fatigues for civilian dress. Jeans and a casual shirt. Canvas sneakers. He shoved himself away from the tree, glancing about to see if Peterson had led back an entire Republic team. Nothing. They had the commons to themselves except for one cadet walking on the other side of the lawn. Too far away.

Should he yell for backup? Take a swing at the betrayer? Evan had imagined a dozen different ways this meeting could take place, and right now he was stumped for one of them.

The other man backed up a wary step, ready.

“Easy, Evan. I didn’t come here to fight.”

Evan took one threatening step away from the elm, hands balled into tight fists. Peterson made no move to defend himself, even though he had several centimeters and twenty kilos on Evan, easily. What was he waiting for? Charge the man. Wrap him around that tree. Do something! Call an alarm—Peterson would never get off the grounds alive.

So if Evan couldn’t make himself judge and executioner, he’d leave it to others?

Standing there, shaking, Evan forced himself to relax. Slowly, he unclenched each fist. He had grown beyond blindly striking out, apparently. He had a greater need to understand.

“So,” he said, remembering their last conversation, how it ended. “This isn’t 3128. But you are Ezekiel Crow.”

“My name is Daniel Peterson. I think you know that.”

“Why are you here?” Evan asked, spitting out each word as if it had a bad taste.

Peterson held a steady gaze. “We didn’t get a chance to finish our last conversation. I thought there was still something left to say. Something that might make a difference.” He looked around the deserted, darkened campus. “I felt I owed you that.”

“You have no idea what you owe me. I’ve hated you my entire life for what you did. And you had the nerve to stand there and lecture me on the consequences of my actions? All that empty talk about the road to hell being paved by the best of intentions?”

“I did that. I couldn’t stand there and watch it all happen again without trying to stop it.”

Evan advanced a step on Peterson. “Let it go, you said. Talk this out, you said. You!” The anger was there, white hot and burning at the edge of Evan’s control.

Peterson looked ready to turn and walk away. Evan swore that he’d bring the man down and kill him if he tried. But the Betrayer simply checked the horizon, saw that they were still alone and folded his arms over his chest.