Chapter Twenty-Three
On Tuesday morning, Matthieu went to breakfast with the Imperial Family. When he entered the room, he was rushed by the entire Clan except for Grace, already seated near the middle of the table.
After the group hug, Matthieu gave each sib and cousin a hug, saying to everyone, “I’m not sure how much I want to talk about things, yet. I just want to relax and pretend things were like they were before I left, if we can.”
Grandmother and Grandfather came into the room, got their hugs, and started the general movement toward the table. Matthieu gave Grace a quick hug around her shoulders, added a kiss to the top of her head, and settled beside her for breakfast.
Grandmother listened closely as Renee and Rowena gave out assignments for the students after their return from Northbridge Prep that afternoon. Grandfather, Father, and Phillip mentioned some of the meetings they would be holding that evening, in case any of the boys were able to attend.
“This situation with the Atticans is grave,” Father explained. “Several usual trade convoys scheduled to arrive have given notice to our fleet that the recent events have been the last straw, so they’ll seek their fortunes elsewhere.”
“What recent events?” Matthieu made sure to ask.
“One of the cargo crews was attacked by a merchant’s stevedores. We didn’t understand some of the conditions under which these cargo personnel suffered. We have the Service contacting a number of recent cargo crews to interview them for the details.”
Phillip said, “The reports from the neighboring planets haven’t been very comprehensive. I believe our Servicemen doing the interviews should also ask about abuses or borderline abusive treatment the crews may have received during the second half of the process, too, the auctions and distribution of payments.”
Theo wondered, “Our Servicemen are there to police the cargo fleets. Why can’t they oversee the entire process?”
“Because they are warriors, not accountants,” Father said. “Downside leave is all they’re allowed, and by then it’s all they wish to do when they land on the planet’s surface.”
“Still, I’ve heard Vic talk about some of the ideas his project has tossed about. And I know plenty of the students in my business classes who would be willing to help.” Theo took another hefty bite.
“What kinds of projects?” Matthieu wondered.
Theo finished chewing and swallowed. “They’ve spoken about the need for greater transparency in all the dealings. If there was a way to get some of the upper-level University students there to review the processes, they would be getting real-life experience in dealing with money matters, interstellar commerce, management of such things as travel, accommodations, and other arrangements, perhaps even marketing.
“Even six to ten students with one professor per planet could take four months and earn seminar credits, just like the economics study group. Their supervisory professors could oversee the system first-hand and make suggestions or improvements, and the Servicemen policing the wormholes would be available if any mishaps were to occur.”
Grandfather, Father, and Phillip were all looking at each other. “It’s worth a try,” Phillip said. “Better than the alternatives.”
“What alternatives?” Matthieu asked.
“Sending our Servicemen directly into the Attican Empire to resolve the situation, or blowing up the wormholes,” Grandfather said. “Half of the dukes are eager for either or both, and half are balking at it. We’re walking on eggshells at this point, both with our own people and with the Galactic Assembly.”
“Theo, would you ask Vic to have the economics study group prepare a presentation on how they would select students, professors, or even other trade professionals, and how they would approach such an assignment?” Father asked.
“Sure. They’ll probably have something for you within a couple of days. Vic says they’ve really torn apart the system and have lists of questions they want answered. They even matrixed it.” Theo grinned before glancing at Matthieu. His grin immediately evaporated.
“I know Miriel mentioned she was going to try to set up definitions for a matrix,” Matthieu said quietly. Everyone hushed. “I’d like to think her work on behalf of the Empire hadn’t been in vain.”
He ate another bite of ham, and eventually everyone else resumed eating. “What’s your current class about, Theo?”
“Human resources. Vic was right; I think this could be my calling,” he said with relief.
“So lining up such a revolving project would bring you great experience,” Grandfather said genially. “Zhaiden, let’s have you set up a meeting with the Economics Advisory Commission. They’ll be able to name professionals with the appropriate credentials.
“We’ll have Lord Rolovlev interview them with Theo assisting, Vic and his fellow students can give them a presentation, and we’ll see what happens.” Talk devolved into small conversations for a while.
Matthieu noticed Grace picking over her food. He pointed at her ham with his fork. “Are you going to eat that?”
Grace blinked up at him in astonishment. “I… I just haven’t started it yet.” She bent to cut a piece immediately.
“Oh, sorry. Just there wasn’t any ham where I did my assignment,” he lied. “And we all shared food with each other. So it was either your ham or your eggs, which would have been messy to slide over onto my plate.”
He raised his hand for a servant. “Would you bring me some more ham and eggs, please?” They were served forthwith.
“What did you eat?” Devon asked.
Matthieu opened his mouth, left it open, and finally gave Devon a look of chagrin. “I’m sorry, but I forgot I can’t talk about anything. Sorry, Devon,” he said as mournfully as possible.
“That’s okay,” Devon responded instantly. “I understand.”
Matthieu snorted. “Yeah. I’d never had to go hungry before. I have a new appreciation for protein now.” He tore into the generous slices of ham and two eggs the servant had brought, making sure to finish them up as he watched all the Clan, but especially Grace, finish their meals.
After everyone went their separate ways, Matthieu went to Grandmother’s apartment, where Rowena sat with her of a day, since her charges were all at school and Renee did Grandmother’s work. They had a lengthy conversation about the Clan’s activities and reactions to Miriel’s suicide before Matthieu said, “Rowena, I love you dearly, but I need to speak to Grandmother about something very privately. Are you required to be in the room with us?”
Rowena stood. “Yes, but I can move to the study, if that’s all right with you, Felice. I can look for book-disks while you chat. Trust me; my concentration on finding new materials will be intense, because we’re running out of topics,” she fretted. Matthieu thanked her and noticed she even closed the door to the study most of the way.
Leading Grandmother over to the corner settee, they settled in. Matthieu produced a data card and an earpiece. “You always have your palm pad with you, correct? Cue this up to 10:45 and have a listen.” Grandmother pulled her palm pad from her vest pocket.
The scene was simply of Matthieu and Brian sitting on the couch with the Sentinel in attendance. He could tell when Grandmother got to the interesting part, at 10:53, for her face sharpened with concentration. She listened to the rest, too, turning noticeably sad by the end.
Matthieu asked, “How could he have known?”
“He says he was at the shuttle. He does do a lot on the computer,” Grandmother reflected. “Perhaps he hacked into the Sentinel database that held the videos from the shuttle monitors.”
“Were there videos?”
She paused. “I’m unsure, but it seems likely. It seems like the Service, knowing what ship you would be on, would have found a way to bug the monitors.”
“Yes, but five months of data storage hidden on a shuttle? We would have found it.”
“It could have been attached to the quantum transmitter,” Grandmother pointed out. “The databank could have been hidden on your ship.”
“Let’s say that was true. If it took seven days for me to get to see him, then the Service would have had to have inspected the Dolphin upon return to Branson’s Star, removing the databank and transferring it here as fast as I myself was traveling. Entirely plausible. They would have uploaded it into Sentinel Command’s data servers to examine the fight sequence, so Brian could have found it right away.
“What is implausible to me, however, is how he knew Chaco’s name when I’m certain we didn’t say it once in the scramble to lift, or even on the way back to the ship.”
“Yes, but you were both responsible for flying the shuttle back with loads,” she reminded him.
“One at a time; one of us was always on the planet surface,” he countered. “Unless he had viewed the very first trip five months before, when both of us flew to the planet’s surface.”
“She would have mentioned her name when notifying the shuttle port on each trip.”
Matthieu considered that. “True. Yet why would he have watched those videos? And when would he have had the time these past few days?”
“What are you suggesting, Matthieu?” Grandmother’s face was hard.
“I know you’re a scientist and prefer facts to align themselves with known data. But this seems anomalous to me. And I remember how you and Grandfather taught me about matrixing, about how one could feel a portion of mind that was absorbing the data and would produce questions in an attempt to fill in the blanks.
“Well, Brian’s mind has huge blanks right now, and he’s attempting to fill them in, but what if, in that process, he found some… unexpected abilities?” Matthieu gave her a hard look. “I don’t discount the possibilities of telepathy and all the other things labeled as pseudoscience, because they’ve been talked about for thousands of years.
“I want to know how we could test Brian for this. Or at least keep it in mind when he seems to be sliding off the subject.” He could see the furious thinking going on behind Grandmother’s eyes, so he let her work while he called someone for tea.
Rowena came out of the study, slipping a few book-disks into her vest pocket. “I see you’ve given the Empress a lot to think about,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “It seems to be your talent. I really appreciate the way you dealt with Grace at breakfast. Was it all true?”
“I’m not sure I should divulge that,” Matthieu said apologetically. “Did it come off as a lie, though?”
“Not really as a lie, but that some parts were true and some might not have been. I’m sure they were all wondering which was which,” Rowena offered.
They spoke a while longer until he noticed Grandmother had come back from her thoughts. “Grandmother, how often do Denise, Samantha, and Robert get to see Brian?”
“Not often. And usually not over half an hour at a time. It’s very hard on them.”
“And it’s not on him? He’s being treated like a criminal,” Matthieu said fervently. “And he doesn’t act like he minds because he’s condemned himself, too.
“I think we need to get him in a suite and get him participating in family life again. Samantha is already here, so Denise and Robert can have their own suite if they need a break.”
“Yes, but he can’t control what he says,” Grandmother pointed out. “Not even secrets.”
“How do you know?” At Grandmother’s startled look, Matthieu forged on.
“It seems to me his mind is desperately seeking to fill in the blanks because he has nothing else to hold his attention. He blurts whatever is on his mind because the people who attend him are desperately listening to him.
“We do so because we want to understand the nature of his disability, but does he really understand that? Perhaps he spurts information because he subconsciously feels like we’re waiting for him to say the right thing, whatever that thing is, and he’s searching for it.
“In addition, I remember Evan talking about his first wife, Vivian. She was constantly observed from a young age to understand her autism, but she was also given tools, training, practice in how to fit in.
“I think that’s what Brian needs, now. A family environment where loving people will work with him on learning self-control again. He needs something to look forward to because he’s been forced to relive the past for two months. And he will never forgive himself if he’s treated like a prisoner for the rest of his life. He needs a future,” Matthieu emphasized.
Grandmother was nodding slowly. “What about the children? How do you think they’ll deal with Brian’s inconsistencies?”
Rowena said, “They never will if they aren’t given the opportunity. How does this sound? If Denise and Robert move in, too, we should have two permanent dining tables, one just for the adults, one for the children. The adults can work with Brian, helping him to relearn social skills and correcting his behavior.
“Bernard and I can work with the children, reminding them to keep an eye out for their uncle when they see him on the grounds, teaching them that it might take some time for him to learn discretion once again, and fielding questions about his disabilities, perhaps even planning a few seminars on such things as head injuries. If I recall, Phillip and Sophia both suffered injuries when they were younger.”
Grandmother nodded. “Yes, indeed. Let’s get this started.” She pressed a button on her wrist phone and asked Renee to attend them.
When they presented Renee with the panoply of suggestions, she suggested some of the boys could be assistants to Brian in rotation, just as the girls did with the Empress. Within twenty minutes, Denise had been called over from Sentinel Command to have lunch with them and be given the plan.
Denise’s relief was notable. “I’ve been having such a hard time with Robert. Having him here would be such a help, especially if Sophia can supervise him along with the other young boys. Let’s do it.”
She grinned, slapping her hands together and rubbing them with glee. “I want to spend the night with my husband, by God!” All the ladies laughed.
That afternoon, they saw Brian ensconced in the suite across from Matthieu, with Denise and Robert taking a suite across from Theo. Sentinels delivered Brian’s clothes first, then spent the rest of their time moving his family’s possessions into Denise’s suite as she spent some time alone with him.
When nine-year-old Robert was picked up from school and delivered to his new home, Matthieu and Theo were there to tell him the plan and take him to Sophia’s suite, where Vincent, Louis, and Andrew were ready to take him to the stables for a ride. Matthieu and Theo went to Rowena’s presentation of the new living arrangements to the Academy students, and by dinnertime the two tables in the family dining room were set with new seating.
They were all hungry but making many jokes about the reasons for the delay by the time Brian and Denise showed up, twenty minutes late to dinner. Brian’s joy burst out in bubbles of laughter as everyone mobbed him with hugs; he stretched out his arms to touch the hands of the children who couldn’t reach him.
Once everyone was settled into their meals, with twelve adults at one table and the Imperial grandchildren numbering twenty-three, Matthieu and Theo sat at each end to supervise the children, telling them they really had to practice their discretion if their uncle Brian were to say top-secret things in their presence.
That evening, Matthieu and Theo took Brian down to the game room for some billiards. As Brian alternated between bouts of surprising competence and dismal performance, Theo made a joke about it.
Brian laughed so hard he had to sit down, but soon he was up again, joking with them about the most unbelievable things. Matthieu complained about some aches and pains from last night’s Fight Club visit, whereupon Brian wondered if he could go, too.
When Denise showed up, Matthieu and Theo laughed at the way Brian pretended he didn’t know who she was and tried to pick her up. They must have played that game before, because Denise fell into the role with ease. “Come on, I’ve got a room for you, sailor,” she finally schmoozed, taking his hand and leading him out.
As they finished putting the billiards away, Theo sighed. “I wonder what that would be like, to be married so long to someone who could joyfully overlook your disabilities just to have you in her bed again.”
“Yeah,” Matthieu said. They went to their suites with no more than a good-night between them after that.
◊ ◊ ◊
Matthieu went riding with Brian the next day. They pushed the horses hard as their Sentinels tried to keep up. They slowed when they reached the far eastern edge of the grounds and turned toward the cliff face, talking about everything under the sun.
When Matthieu realized where Brian was leading him, he stopped his horse. Brian turned his own horse to face him and simply waited.
“The Sanctuary of Hope,” he eventually murmured. “To escape, and to be blessed. I’ve never been so touched in all my life than when you came up with that. I’ve been wanting to see it again for two months, now.”
Staring into Brian’s face, sweet with pity and love, Matthieu straightened and lifted his chin. “Then we’ll go.”
They sat on the moss, just turning green again with spring’s promise. Soon Matthieu was lying on his back, and soon thereafter Brian joined him. When he began to speak, Matthieu listened with all his heart, for Brian not only divulged the problems he had had finding a lady wife, he seemed to know every detail about every relationship every male in the family had had doing so, too.
“Why do you think Miriel did it?” Matthieu finally asked.
“I think she felt forced into it by everyone,” Brian eventually said. “From the moment you assigned her Sentinels. Desperate to escape her situation at Makov Mansion, she clung to them as a lifeline to a better future.
“When she was moved to Sophia’s house, it was as if all her dreams had come true. Loved by a prince. Loved by his family. Miraculously found worthy, despite her own doubts.
“Yet she had never realized all the duties to which we’re called. I think her first truly serious doubts began at the party with the Makovs. Although she was magnificent at it, she could see her entire future would consist of coddling the egos of people like Franz. I reviewed the videos and think that’s why she didn’t say yes to you that very night.
“Then the dinner at the Markarov’s, the way she spoke about the duchesses in the ground car. She had never had many lady friends, which was why she was perturbed when the Markarovs seemed to question her new commoner friends. As Empress, commoner friends would probably be put to work just to be able to have access to her person.
“Then you took the assignment, and she was alone. We moved her here as soon as we knew she was pregnant, about three weeks later. Divorced from seeing her friends except at class, she would spend as long as she could, drawing out the meetings of the rep seminar, then having dinner with her parents and Fidel’s new wife.
“That was freedom to her, whereas when she was here, all she would see was Renee and Mother, managing everything and everyone, and encouraging her to try her hand at it. I think she felt it was manipulative, to have other people doing things according to her will. It must have made her think she had to identify with people like Peter Makov, the controllers of systems. She could barely stand to give servants orders, even at Rep House.
“Last but not least, Mother insisted on introducing her as her ‘apprentice Empress’. Miriel had never said yes, after all. We all just assumed that was the way it was going to be. I even wonder, now, if there was some way she could have deliberately caused herself to miscarry,” Brian mentioned thoughtlessly; Matthieu cringed.
“But Mother dragged her to two more major balls, straight from the infirmary, still presuming you were going to marry, still presenting her as her protégée empress. The center of unwanted attention and pity that she lost the child she wanted but may not have wanted at the same time.”
“And no word from me in all that time,” Matthieu groaned. “Abandoned to the pressures without me to mitigate them, not there to inspire her to want to take them on.”
“Yes. You were always so good about soothing her doubts. She loved you for that, loved your emotional support, because she knew you knew how to survive such a high milieu. She only knew how to survive as a Low Royal. That was only her third ball, that first time you met.”
Brian gentled his tone to a barely audible murmur. “She had known you for five months, but by then she had known Mother for nine months, which is why Mother’s assumptions affected her so much more than yours. For you still gave her the option of saying no, but when she became pregnant, Mother never did.”
“What could have been the trigger, though? Don’t you think there was some kind of trigger?” Matthieu asked, desperate to understand.
“I don’t remember one, but since I was injured, I’ve not had a chance to look through the videos,” Brian reminded him. “You would think there would be, but I rather feel like the point is moot.”
“It’s not moot to me,” Matthieu moaned, tears welling up. “I have to know how to prevent it if I’m ever going to find a lady.” He opened his mouth and closed his eyes and held his head in both arms as he vented his grief. Brian’s hand fell on his shoulder and stayed there for the duration.
After an hour or so of silence, Matthieu asked, “What do you think I should do?”
“Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all,” Brian said. “And I mean that literally. Get your every sexual appetite fulfilled by every willing lady. One will eventually stand out, determined to draw your attention.
“When she starts really seeing how you have to live, she’ll either go, or she’ll stay. If she stays, then she’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep you happy. You’re the person who needs support; you don’t need a wife who will drag you down and take up your energy.”
“What did it take to make you happy?” Matthieu wondered.
“A lady who appreciated my insatiable curiosity,” Brian responded instantly. “That has always been my main motivation in life. Denise taunted my curiosity from the first minute I spoke with her. To this day I never know what she’ll come up with next.”
He sat up. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What is your driving principle? What’s the key to your motivation?”
“Solving problems, I would say,” Matthieu answered after some thought. “Building rapport between people so the problems get solved,” he amended.
“I think there’s a long-range element to that, too,” Brian added. “Not just daily problems. The big picture.”
“Yeah. I need someone who can help me matrix the Empire,” Matthieu agreed. “Spot the trends, analyze for deep understanding of the issues of Empire. I need a lady of vision.”
Brian stood up and held out his hand. “Well, let’s go find one,” he grinned.
Matthieu laughed, accepted the hand, and they went back to the horses.
◊ ◊ ◊
Matthieu and Theo took Vic and Uncle Brian to Fight Club that night. The Club had eventually purchased the property next door and expanded to twice its original size. There was no particular order to who went to which side to work out, for the senior members were always interspersed with the junior members. The new side did have more equipment, however, so they gravitated to that side, where several junior members helped Vic again with the basics.
The first person to fight Uncle Brian got seriously pounded in seconds flat, even after two months of recuperation. After that, all the men fought with berserker strength, just to hope they could say they threw him even once, which a few of them did.
When Phillip offered to fight him, Brian shook his head emphatically. “No, but I’ll take on anyone else. I don’t want anyone to ever say a Sinclair fought another Sinclair for any reason,” he stated loud enough to be heard by all the bystanders. The men nodded their understanding.
The strongest fighter Matthieu took on was Annette’s brother, Lord Christopher Breton. He fought as dirty as he could, but he ended up face down on the mat within four minutes.
“Damn, and I thought Sentinels were bad-assed.” Matthieu moved his arms to check for injuries. “They must have been holding back on me my entire life.”
Christopher laughed. “I thought you did really well. I’m sure you were top-rated during your training cycles.”
“Yeah, two years and a few cramped courier vessels ago,” Matthieu bitched. “Looks like I should take an on-planet assignment, or stick with weapons.”
By the end of the evening, Matthieu and Theo were teaching Vic how to stretch most effectively to relax his muscles after so much training. They watched the exhibition rounds and shook their heads as Sophia’s husband, Alex, slammed the fifth man in a row to the mat. “Sheesh. Alex is, what, fifty or so?” Theo asked.
“At least,” Matthieu said. “I’m starting to get a real inferiority complex.” Several nearby men laughed at that.
In the showers, some of the younger men were discussing which bar they would visit. “Would you three be interested?” one asked politely.
Glancing at Theo, Matthieu shrugged. “For a little while. We have duties tomorrow.”
They listened to the men through the first two rounds of drinks before one dared to ask Matthieu, “How are you doing, Your Highness?”
Matthieu shrugged. “Uncle Brian thinks I should bed every lady in my path, but I don’t know if that would make me feel much better about things.” He finished his drink and considered another. “What about you, Theo?”
“I don’t care either way. I’m not looking, and I’m not avoiding. I’m just not going to put up with the head games.” Theo rattled the ice in his drink.
“We should start a Kissing Game for you,” one offered. “At the next ball. That’s how Phillip met Annette.”
“Fine with me.” Finishing his drink, Theo tossed some money on the table. “You ready, Matthieu?”
“Yeah. What about you, Vic?”
Vic finished his drink. “Now I am. Thanks for inviting us,” he said to the other men. Matthieu and Theo offered their thanks before they headed to the Palace ground car.
In the back seat, Vic asked, “What did you mean by head games, Theo?”
“No gossip, no lying, no sex for favors, and no nosy questions about other family members. Otherwise, an education and the ability to keep secrets are what Matthieu and I decided were most important. What about you?”
“Those sound good to me. If you find any who qualify, let me know.” Vic rested his head against the back seat.
“If we don’t snap them up ourselves,” Matthieu reminded him. They shared a good laugh.
◊ ◊ ◊
Ten days later, the Industry Ball was two days before Matthieu’s birthday, and the Fight Brothers did have a Kissing Game planned. Matthieu thanked the men but said, “Only if Theo and my other single friends get to play, too.”
As a result, only about twenty ladies, relatives of younger Fight Brothers, were willing to play. Matthieu, Theo, Vic, Samuel, and Frank spent a few hours getting to know them in Father’s pavilion at the north end of the ballroom, while Father and Renee visited with people in Grandfather’s and Grandmother’s pavilions that evening.
Eric and Catherine waltzed in and began striking up conversations with various ladies. Matthieu had his arms around two lovelies on one couch, while Vic was squeezed between two on a settee. Theo and the others were taking turns leading one lady out to dance at a time, and a pretty good time was being had by all.
All of a sudden, there was a scream and considerable hubbub before watchmen and Sentinels rushed to the Pavilions. “Stay inside,” one commanded Matthieu and his friends as the watchmen formed a line to block the Pavilions. Theo was soon thrust into the Pavilion with his current dance partner.
Matthieu rushed to him. “What’s happening? Did you see?” He grabbed Theo’s upper arms.
Theo was shaking like a leaf. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I can say.”
“What, man! Give us a clue!” Matthieu demanded, eyes trying to pierce him with intent.
Theo grabbed Matthieu’s head and cupped his hand to whisper in his ear. “I think Grace just tried to kill someone.”
“Oh, dear God! Who?”
Trembling, Theo shook his head and went to the nearest chair to sit with his face in his hands. A couple of the ladies immediately attended to him.
Matthieu went to the line and looked over the shoulders of two watchmen. The eastern side of the ballroom was being cleared, though crowds formed to gape and gossip. There was a man on the floor, and blood, but he couldn’t see Grace anywhere.
He turned to the terrified ladies. “It looks like someone sustained an injury. I’m sure we’ll be able to leave when they’ve cleaned up the blood. They won’t want anyone to slip while dancing.”
They were let out an hour later. No one seemed to know who the lady was, but she had hit Henry Lynx in the stomach hard enough to make him double over, which put him in a perfect position for her to grab his head and drive her knee so hard into his face that she had completely wrecked his nose, knocking him out cold. Lynx was currently in the infirmary, and it was unknown whether he had a brain injury.
Matthieu didn’t know what to do. Grace was only fifteen and wouldn’t even be presented as a debutante until Grandfather’s Birthday Celebration. She must have dressed for a ball and sneaked in, probably at that servant’s lift near the ladies’ restrooms.
If it was Grace, he wanted to talk to her immediately, but rushing from the room would tell everyone it was an Imperial Family member. If it wasn’t Grace, he should pretend the Sentinels would have everything under control. It didn’t matter too much, because the entire Imperial Family was soon taken from the ballroom, and the partygoers told they were allowed to stay as long as they wished.
Once they were all in the Crystal Salon, the Imperial Palace Sentinel Chief came to inform the Imperial Family members who had attended the ball, “The Emperor has asked me to tell you only the basics. Princess Grace prepared herself in secret, slipped into the ball two hours ago, stood observing the partygoers for some time, and was asked to dance by two men. Then she approached Lord Henry Lynx for a dance, and after some discussion with him during the dance, attacked him and immediately fled.
“She is now in the infirmary, and her parents were called to attend. You must await further information from the Emperor or Empress.” He left immediately.
They were waiting for Grandmother, Grandfather, Father, or Renee to brief them further, trying to figure out what to do with Grace as Kayla cried in Aunt Sophia’s arms, when Aunt Anne and Andrés entered.
“We’ve seen her, but she won’t tell us what Lord Henry said to provoke her,” Andrés said, since Anne was obviously too overwhelmed to speak. “She said he deserved it, and she is completely unapologetic about it.
“We asked her if she wanted to move back to the Stargate Compound, and all she asked was why should she be punished when no other lady in the family had been before. I’m not entirely sure what she meant by that.”
“Grandmother at that one ball before she was married, when the minister killed himself. Aunt Catherine when she was about seventeen, before she was married. And Grace never would tell us what happened at the Birthday Celebration Fête, but that was just before she put herself in the infirmary,” Theo said.
“And face it, Anne, she’s just like you in that she doesn’t think ladies should be treated any different than men. If Lord Henry did something inappropriate, she wouldn’t put up with it.”
“And, like Grandmother slapping Father when he was fifteen,” Matthieu said. “The Sentinels all say Grace is a ferocious fighter. I bet she didn’t know her own strength.”
Uncle Brian suddenly stood up. “I’m going to bed,” he announced to the room. Denise slipped to his side, and they left without a further word. Soon everyone else headed to their own suites. Matthieu and Theo headed to Theo’s for a drink.
“I saw it out of the corner of my eye.” Theo was still shaking his head in disbelief. “You know I’ve watched them all during workouts. I knew it was her, though I didn’t see her face as she fled, but I had detected the Sentinel move and recognized her hair.”
“I wonder why she won’t tell anyone what Henry said to her.” Matthieu was more curious than appalled at this point. “Surely she would want to explain herself in full, in her defense. Surely no one would suspect her of lying about it.”
“I wonder if she’ll speak to you,” Theo mused. “She drove Renee half-mad with the silent treatment last winter. And Grandmother has always hesitated to push her. And do you remember that first day everyone moved here for the Academy, when we were walking with the Bradleys and the girls stopped on the path?”
“Yes?”
Theo turned to Matthieu. “Aimee told me about it when Grace was in the infirmary. She and Kayla were trying to get to know her, and Grace boasted how well she understood people, asking them if they wanted her to prove it. She had them stop on the path and said, ‘The boys won’t want us to be alone because they’ve been raised to be protective of ladies, so at least three of them will come back here.’
“And that was exactly what we did, you, me, and Vic. That’s why when we asked what they were doing, she said they were talking about experiments.” Theo shook his head again. “If she knows people so well, though, why did she not avoid the situation? Why did she assault Henry Lynx?”
“Why did she deliberately come to the ball? Is it because she wanted to see what the men were like? I can see why she would have been stunningly bored at a Fête, but the Fêtes only occur for major balls.”
Matthieu pondered. “If she sneaked in only to find out what a real ball was like, why did she ask him to dance? He must have done or said something totally unexpected to her, thinking her a simple deb. And we talk about what sharks so many of these ladies are; can you imagine how much worse the men are?
“I bet she had every reason to… well, she had every reason to perhaps break off dancing. I can’t think of what Lynx could have done on the open dance floor to have warranted such a severe response. What if he dies?”
“God, like we need any more deaths associated with the Imperial Family.” Theo moaned to see Matthieu cringe. “Oh, God, Matthieu! Please, forgive me. I’m so sorry.” He offered Matthieu another drink.
“No, I’m headed for bed. Good night.” Matthieu let himself out as Theo groaned and sank back on the couch, still mortified by his remark.
Lying in bed, Matthieu tried to assume Grace’s perspective. Surrounded by the honorable men of her family, she would reject men who showed themselves less than honorable. If all the men she danced with at her first ball tried to treat her like another socialite, complimenting her on her gown, say, or asking her to go out without getting to know her, not knowing she was Imperial, she would surely have a low opinion of men in general.
She was fifteen and a half, so she must have had the sex talk fairly recently. Curiosity aroused, she must have wanted to see what a real ball was like, instead of waiting until she was sixteen to be presented as a debutante. She had danced with two men before Henry Lynx, and she had picked him and asked him herself, perhaps not realizing that was unladylike.
Henry must have assumed the deb wanted to bed him, so he probably groped her or said something explicit. But why would she try to kill him? She could have chosen a number of combat moves to disable him; was that particular move simply reflex, or intent?
Since Grace had missed two months of classes, being in the infirmary, she was probably being avoided by everyone at school. Even Aimee and Kayla were afraid of and for her. She might not know how to handle attention from males. And Grace was simply too smart to put up with the bullshit that made up the dating rituals everyone else was used to. She was certainly unaccustomed to the crudity of drunken men at these balls. A regular deb would have freaked.
But Matthieu felt there was more to it than that, for Theo had described that incident in which Grace had predicted their behavior. He felt she knew exactly what she had done and deliberately selected Henry Lynx.
Matthieu’s mind ratcheted back to her previous infirmary stay. What would make her so desperate she would rather die than live? What would make her so utterly hopeless? What did Grace want to do with her life?
He realized he had no clue. Everyone assumed she would go into chemistry or stargate science, like her mother, but what if she wanted to work in something completely different, like finance or health care?
Was that the essence of Grace’s problem? Everyone assumed she would want X, Y, and Z, when no one ever took the time to ask her? Everyone assumed she was a nice girl who always followed the rules, but she wasn’t? Everyone assumed she wouldn’t want to go to balls until she was presented, but she did?
Like Miriel in that respect; perhaps Grace felt pressured to become a stargate scientist or chemist, balked at being put into a box, and had no one or no way of telling people to get over their assumptions. Perhaps the tensions had built until they burst out of her fist the way his had on Cyrusia, with the other moves sheer reflex.
Matthieu composed himself for sleep. He would get to the bottom of this, one way or another.