“Minister Graves has silenced theWellspringand its operators. She assures me nobody will believe the false claim they circulated. Beatrice?” Irons shifted his focus to the Minister of Internal Order. “Make sure we have a huge turnout for General Crane’s fall from grace. Bram, inform General Garcia to be on hand to accept his promotion. I need a war minister who doesn’t question my commands. Reverend Quell, please say your prayers over Maddox now. I need you to counsel my son in the virtue of obedience before our secret police escort him onto his train.” Rapping the gavel, he ended the mock trial.
“I can’t believe it!” Jace thundered. He ran to where Colt still sat in the witness box. Amaretta tried to stop him. It broke her heart to see her sons torn apart, pitted against each other. She also knew who to blame.
“I suppose you’re fine with murdering people,” Colt grumbled, shoving his way out of the booth.
Amaretta glided between them. “Don’t do this.” Her tone resonated with quiet authority. “Not in front of others. Maintain your self-respect.”
Jace seethed, jabbing a finger in Colt’s chest. “Dad is the most powerful man in the world. How dare you disrespect him? This isn’t over.” Breaking away, he stomped off to brood.
Colt started after him. “Jace, wait.”
Amaretta snagged his sleeve. “Let him go. He’ll cool off after a while.” She reached her arms around Colt’s neck, pulling her son to her chest. Squeezing her eyes shut, she held him. To her relief, he hugged her too.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
It felt good to hold him, her strong, sensitive, incorruptible boy. He smelled of sandalwood and leather, his stubble scratching her face. “I know, Colt. It will be all right; you’ll see.”
“Harmony and Chloe.” His voice cracked against her throat as they held onto one another.
“I’ll look out for them, do what I can.” Amaretta held no position in her husband’s government save eye-candy. She was supposed to look pretty, smile, and agree with everything he said. But she would stand up for Colt’s wife and child. Luther wasn’t the only one with leverage.
Colonel Vexler and the bailiff seized Colt’s arms, ripping him from Amaretta’s embrace. “Time to go, silly boy,” Vexler snapped.
“Please.” He caught Vexler’s gaze, a plea in his own. “One moment with the general. Then you can haul me off to Fort Desperado.”
“Denied.” They continued dragging Colt toward the exit. “Moments with Maddox Crane are what got you intothis mess.”
Amaretta refused the tears that stung her eyes. Instead, she smiled and waved goodbye to her oldest son. “Stay safe, Colton Bear. I’ll pray for the day you return to us.”
“I love you, Mom.” The heavy doors thudded behind them. Amaretta paid no attention to the officials or their solemn murmurs. She glanced at Jace, talking to his father.What lies is he filling my son’s head with now? What promises that he’ll break?
She ambled over to where Maddox sat, wrists bound, head down. “I’m so sorry.” The words fell in place of the threatening tears. Luther once loved Maddox, sung his praises in their home at the dinner table, and couldn’t wait to be elected president so he could appoint the war hero to his cabinet. Now he’d condemned him to death. A week hence, would he regret his decision? Or, when the Iron Army was in trouble on the battlefield, when Garcia’s tactics couldn’t match Crane’s, would Luther admit his rash judgment?
Their old friend lifted a broken countenance to her, a smile curving between his whiskers. “You raised a good man, Mrs. Irons. You should be proud. Colt’s a good man.”
She was done for. The river of tears she’d been clinging to rushed down her face without reserve. Fumbling in her bag, she produced a handkerchief to mop them with. “Thank you, Maddox. I am proud.”
“What’s that you say?”
Amaretta froze as Luther sidled up beside her, his palm pressing to the small of her back.
“I was telling General Crane that I was proud … of his service to the Republic before his recent lapse in judgment. This is a sad day for our family and our nation, don’t you agree?”
“Certainly, it’s sad.” Luther’s voice sounded anything but. “It’s always a bleak day when one is stabbed in the back by his friend—or son.” His jaw clenched, his hand’s pressure intensifying. “This has been a trying day for my wife. It’s time for her to retire to our quarters.”
Amaretta listened to the clack of her heels and the clomp of Luther’s shoes as he escorted her down the keep’s hallways in silence. Upon arriving at the door to their apartment, he twirled her toward him.
“You better not harbor disloyal thoughts,” he warned. “So many dangers at Fort Desperado. It would be a shame if Colt didn’t make it back.”
Her eyes flashed with the heat of a warhead. “You won’t harm your own son.”
Luther arched a brow. “I have a spare.”
Two days later
Amaretta refused to attend the execution about to take place atop the keep’s walls, making the excuse of being ill. She was sick, truly sick in her soul about the changes that had warped the man she once loved into an ego-driven, power-crazed dictator. Outside, Luther gave another rousing speech, listing a litany of crimes Maddox was accused of, presenting witnesses who condemned him as a traitor. He even concocted a fake assassination attempt story for extra weight.
At first, the crowd had been solemn, unconvinced. After a while, boos and jeers sounded, and angry shouts called for Crane’s head.
