Page 65 of Empress of Ruin
She doesn’t respond for a long time, but everything in her expression and body language tells me that is the primary issue. I can see why; it’s a massive betrayal. Something I held over her head mercilessly, used to gain her compliance. Something that got out into the world and hurt herdeeply.
“It’s a lot of things, Killian,” she admits quietly. “But it comes down to control. You want to control every morsel of who I am. It’s limiting. It’s…” she grimaces. “Dehumanizing.”
I mull that over for a few beats. “I can ease up on the control.” If we only have a few weeks together left, if I die after that tribunal, I don’t want to spend it fighting. I can’t change what happened with the tape, but maybe I can make Lyra feel better about it. There has to be some way.
Whatever it is, I’ll find it. I refuse to spend what could be my last weeks on this earth miserable.
A week later, I manage to get a very important dinner set up. Spencer, known in the Eyes as Janus, was director of a top intelligence agency for nearly twenty years before his retirement. But retiring from the job and public eye was only the beginnings of his ambition; he is, without doubt, one of the best-connected men on this earth, and an expert at intelligence gathering. He knows secrets that could destabilize every monarchy and government on earth, and he likely has information about everyday working people that could get them all put in jail.
He has a silver-fox appeal about him, with salt-and-pepper hair, and a vintage walking cane to help him with an old military wound that never quite healed.
We meet in the back room of an upscale restaurant in the city. He’s early, so by the time I arrive—also five minutes early—he’s cutting into a salmon fillet.
“Hope you don’t mind, I started without you.” His pale blue eyes meet mine. “My wife has me on a strict diet that leaves me perpetually hungry.”
I arch an eyebrow. “The things we do for love.”
“Indeed.” He sets down his utensils and gestures to the seat across from him. “Please.”
I help myself, sinking into the slightly uncomfortable chair and leaning back. I’d order myself something to eat, as well, except I’ve heard that Spencer has been known to dabble in poisons. Besides, even if not him, Silas sent one assassin after me; I’m sure he’ll send another soon enough. For the time being,I won’t be eating any food that hasn’t been prepared by my chef, or drinking anything I haven’t poured myself.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” I say amiably. “I appreciate you taking the time.”
Spencer resumes eating, pausing only to point a fork at me. “You are a very interesting man, Mr. King. We have a thing or two in common, did you know?”
I do. We both come from impoverished childhoods and are what the world views as self-made men. Therefore, we’ll both always be seen as outsiders in The Eyes. The status can be forgiven on me, considering I’m working on a drug to extend life indefinitely, and it can be forgiven for Spencer because he has everyone’s balls in the palm of his hand.
I wonder if he somehow already knows that Silas sent an assassin after me. It wouldn’t surprise me.
“You have until I finish my disgusting salmon to plead your case.”
“Disgusting?” I question airily. “Why not order a steak?”
“My wife’s a doctor. I’m working on my cholesterol. Live a few more decades, and you’ll see what it’s like. In any case, I’d say you have about ten minutes to hook my interest.” He smiles. “We’re all fast eaters in New York, aren’t we?”
“My case is simple.” I fold my hands over my knee, affecting an air of practiced calm. “Silas is untrustworthy, and Vladimir is untrustworthy. Silas is old money, which grants him certain privileges, but he’s lost half of the fortune he inherited already. Logic informs us that this will probably only continue, and he’ll become a burden to the eyes. Not the asset he might’ve been at first, and not the stale member he is now. Aburdenthat the rest of you must bear. As for Vladimir,” I run a hand over my tie. “He hates men like you and I. We made it from nothing. He had an oligarch father and grandfather to hand him hundreds of millions.”
“You haven’t mentioned anything about the exact charges you’re bringing against Silas.” Spencer dabs at his lips with his napkin. “That he hurt your kin.”
“He hurt my wife,” I respond, trying to stay calm.
“He hurt a woman who, by all accounts, you were enjoying an affair with. Asordidaffair, according to some. One you persuaded her into my recording certain… activities.”
Ah. Spencer, of course, knows more than he’s letting on.
“She was pregnant with my child. We’d already decided on marriage, and had gotten engaged in private. We were waiting for the next public event to announce. Our love may have started out as an affair, but it evolved.”
“Mm.” Spencer finishes the last bite of his salmon, sets down his cutlery, and leans back to regard me. “Where did the baby go, then?”
“Miscarriage.” I grit my teeth over the word. “Caused by the stress of the scandal thatSilascreated. That’s why Lyra left the country for some time.”
“I see. Silas tells a very different story. One where you extracted a pound of flesh from him because of your preexisting rivalry, and are only using the journalist as a smoke screen to avoid consequences.”
“If that were the case, why wouldn’t he have said so sooner?”
“If you were really engaged, why did your fiancée spend five months on the run from you?” Spencer’s tone remains perfectly placid, but his eyes burn a hole into mine. He knows he’s got me there.
“Stress. Hysteria.” I wave a hand. “She thought I was the one to leak the tape.”
