By the time her aides recovered enough to move her indoors, the allegation the United States had flown her across a continent to make, that I was being held against my will, had been disproved in front of her in the most expensive way available to anyone.
Dominic came in last. He had shifted back in the meadow and checked me over before anyone could convince him he was also bleeding. Only once I was upright, breathing, and medically described as “mostly intact” had he stepped away from me.
His hair was damp at the temples. There was blood on his skin that I hoped was not his. An Ashenmere attendant had brought him a clean coat, and he fastened the last button as he walked to the chair at my left.
Ambassador Harrow was sixty-two years old, slim, and wearing a gray suit cut by someone who understood power did not need decoration. Her jewelry was small and careful. Her face said she had been managing rooms like this one for thirty-five years and had once or twice considered poisoning the coffee. Which was a sin.
Not the poisoning but using coffee as the delivery system. I didn’t like her.
Her aides had recovered their composure. Her stenographer had not entirely.
Harrow did not look at me. She looked at Yuki. “Madam Ashenmere.”
“Ambassador.” Yuki gestured to the empty chair across from Bjorn.
His claim on my throat warmed when he sat down. I didn’t look at him. I had been told by Yuki not to.
The ambassador took her seat. Her aides took the chairs behind her. The stenographer set up at a small side table. The Romanian observer opened her notebook.
The session opened on Yuki’s formal recitation. “The Council of Ashenmere convenes at eight o’clockPacific to receive a formal diplomatic representation from the government of the United States of America, represented by Special Envoy Ambassador Constance Harrow. The matter before the council concerns the welfare and disposition of one Catalina Cordero, citizen of the United States, currently in formal protective confinement under treaty law as the bonded mate of Enforcer Dominic Graves of Ashenmere and Lord Rhain Solberg of Norway.”
The ambassador didn’t move.
Yuki continued. “The council will hear the U.S. representation in full. The council will then respond. Ambassador.”
Harrow read from a prepared statement. The statement was three minutes long. It was, professionally, beautifully constructed. It positioned me as an American national in protective confinement on foreign clan-territory; it acknowledged the bond as a private matter while asserting the diplomatic interest in thewelfare and accessof an American citizen; it requested formal release into U.S. consular care formedical evaluation, psychological assessment, and voluntary repatriation pending the citizen’s free decision.
She never used the wordcoercion.She didn’t have to. The word coercion sat in the implication of every clause.
When she finished, she set the page on the table and looked at Yuki. “The United States awaits the council’s response.”
Yuki turned to me. “Catalina Cordero. The ambassador has requested your voluntary repatriation. Do you wish to respond directly?”
I had known she was going to ask. I had practiced the answer twice in front of the mirror this morning. The practice hadn’t been theatrical. The practice had been mechanical. A count of breath, a check of pulse, a register read.
I stood.
I kept my weight off the left ribs and my voice off the pain.
The ambassador’s eyes moved to me for the first time.
“Madam Ambassador,” I said.
“Miss Cordero.”
The honorific was deliberate.Miss.NotMs.NotAgent. TheU.S. State Department had a style guide for moments when the State Department wished to mark a woman down without doing it in language her lawyers could prove.Misswas on page eleven.
I didn’t care.
“I have been in protective confinement under Ashenmere treaty law for fourteen days. I haven’t been physically restrained at any point during that period. I have had access to my embassy line throughout. The bond between myself, Enforcer Graves, and Lord Solberg has been freely chosen at every step on the public record. The council has documentation of my consent to both bonds in formal session, witnessed by nine elders and the Council Head. There’s no coercion to investigate.”
Harrow didn’t blink. “Miss Cordero. With respect. The State Department’s request isn’t based on a finding of coercion. The request is based on the principle that an American national should have the opportunity to confirm her welfare in the presence of U.S. consular personnel.”
“I’m confirming it now.”
“In a council chamber under foreign jurisdiction.”
“In a council chamber under foreign jurisdiction.” I held her eyes. “The same protection that, this morning, ended an extraction attempt staged through an Ashenmere enforcer acting on a foreign clan-head’s instruction. You saw what happened at the south gate.”
