"You said that Dalton was ok!" Briana screamed at Abel. She'd trashed her room. Smashing and breaking everything she could – demanding that Abel come and speak with her. Eventually, he'd come – coat still on, fresh from Probitatis. Abel was staring at her like she was a mad person.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?! Pesky's an influential person – you could be thrown back in jail-"
"I DON'T CARE!"
Briana's chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath and tears glistened in her eyes. "I want to see Dalton."
"You can't. Emily understand – this isn't my choice. It was decided-"
"Bend the rules! You do when it suits you."
Abel's cheeks flushed – his pride dented by her accusation.
"I do not."
"Oh really?!" Briana had to resist the urge to hit him. Never, never had she felt so angry – so less in love with him. "So the True Hearts decided that I should have all these nice things – the clothes – all these pretty baubles. No Abel you did. To try to win me back – you did that. But it means nothing! If you love me, Abel, then do something real. Do something real for me that will actually mean something. Help Dalton."
Tears slipped past her lashes, running down her face. Abel's brow furrowed.
"Emily," he entreated – reaching up to caress her face. But Briana knocked his hand aside.
"Don't touch me." Her gaze hardened. "I was wrong about you, Abel. You're not the man I thought you were. I should never have believed in you."
She retreated to the ensuite - slamming the door shut behind her. The handle trembled from the force of her actions. She heard Abel's retreating footsteps. A sob escaped her and Briana sank to the floor. She covered her face and brokenly wept.
**
Abel stormed into his bedroom. As the door was closing behind him Victoria caught it and held it open.
"Abel?"
He roared – his temper exploding. Victoria flinched in surprise – staring wide-eyed at the back of Abel's head. She'd never seen Abel lose it like this. She watched him pick up a velvet box off the side and wrench it open. Tentatively Victoria stepped into the room. "Abel?"
The light caught something shiny. Abel threw it from his disgust – the offending jewellery item struck the window and fell to the ground, landing in the dust beneath the radiator. He sank down on the bed, head in his hands. "Abel," Victoria called softly, crouching down in front of him. "I'm sorry but there's a phone call. You have to take it." Abel sighed. "It's urgent."
"She'll never fall in love with me." His voice was so utterly defeated. Victoria's heart clenched painfully.
"Forget about her."
"I can't," he looked up and met Victoria's gaze, "she's here." He put his hand on his chest, clawing at the shirt as if he might rip out the broken organ beneath. "She'll always be here."
Victoria swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat.
"You need to take this call."
Obediently he got to his feet and - like a zombie – shuffled out of the room. Victoria straightened up, she made to follow but paused. Her head turned to look down at the item Abel had so furiously thrown aside. Before she was aware of her actions she was across the room to retrieve it. Victoria stared at the discarded necklace. It was lovely – elegant in its subtle design but far more precious than anything Victoria had ever owned. A gift for Emily Erebus...
Trembling, Victoria shoved the necklace into her pocket. Her heart fluttered nervously even as she reassured herself that Abel would never know. He'd assume it was lost or stolen by a member of staff. He'd never suspect her. It should have been hers anyway... Victoria stood in the centre of the room – undecided. She could put it back. She almost did. But the idea of this necklace one day being given to Emily Erebus made her blood boil. The bitch didn't deserve it. Resolutely Victoria vacated the room but the necklace felt like a heavy weight in her pocket.
**
"Antonia Margo Erebus, you are charged with treason." The speaker declared to her and the assembled True Hearts. Antonia opened her mouth to plead not guilty but the opportunity never came. They read out accusation after accusation – various speakers taking turns. Some questioned her –some didn't even bother. She didn't know which was better.
"Since 2000 you have failed to keep your yearly expenditure within the agreed amounts – despite its vast sum-" They made it sound like over the years she'd spend millions on clothes. Ignoring the fact that that money went into paying her staff, went back into society via patronage, charity and bailouts. Her steadfast denial of the Asprey scandal was dismissed. They poked ridicule at her claim that the entire thing had been a set up by the media. Antonia didn't crumble though. She kept her chin up and her temper in check. They wouldn't strip her of her dignity – she was determined.
Thurber Gale's turn came at the end. He'd arranged it that way – he wanted his evidence to be the last that the assembly heard.
"True Hearts, I must report a final accusation that sickens me. It sickens me as a man and as a father. I have in my hand evidence provided by Dalton Erebus – the accused's son." He held up the dossier for them to see. Antonia's handcuffs rattled as she leant forward. Every day she'd been asking for her children – where were they? Were they alive?
"This boy has been in my charge for 2 months now. A child of eleven years old and today his voice will be heard." Thurber turned to address Antonia, dramatically raising his voice. "Antonia Erebus, how do you plead to the charge of sexually abusing your own son?"
Antonia froze – her muscles paralyzed in absolute shock.
What...?
Antonia's head was a mess and she struggled to process the extracts Thurber was reading out.
"...she liked me to undress in front of her. Some nights she would come into my room and make me touch myself so that she could watch..."
Bile rose in Antonia's throat. Never, never had she thought they'd stoop this low. She put her hand over her mouth. "...we would sleep in the same bed naked. Sometimes in the night, she'd start to rub against me..."
Thurber was getting drowned out now. The True Hearts were roaring at her, on their feet in outrage and shouting their abuse. Antonia slouched forward. How had they made Dalton sign a document like that? Unable to hold it back any longer she leant forward and threw up. The hot vomit seared her throat and made her empty stomach ache. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing raggedly – her vision spinning.
They led her out of Probitatis. The road outside had been closed off to traffic but was crammed with spectators. The sky was a clear blue and the low sun caused the frost to sparkle – as if her path was strewn with diamonds. The stone walls of Probitatis had been cleaned of soot and the nation's new flag was hung beneath the common's windows.
Antonia's shoulders were slumped and her head lowered in defeat. They'd erected a scaffold so the crowds would be able to watch. The wood creaked under her weight as she ascended the steps. Over a megaphone, her sentence was read out. She'd expected jeers but the audience was stony silent – their cold glares the sole expression of their bitter hatred of her.
Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks splotchy from crying. She'd begged to see Dalton.
"Please – before I die. I have to tell him I forgive him." She didn't want him to blame himself for her death. She understood that he'd been made to say those things. But her pleading had only entertained them.
Antonia's greying hair fell before her eyes as she stood alone on the platform. The crowd seemed to collectively hold their breath. A stray tear ran down her cheek and fell upon the fresh wooden boards.
**
Troy's breath fogged up in the cold air. He'd elbowed his way forward in the crowd and now he ignored the irritated hands tugging at his arms as he stared up at the scaffold. The speaker over the nasal megaphone finally finished his speech. She'd been found guilty and they'd sentenced her to die. There was no executioner with her on the stage. But looking up Troy saw the skilled marksman in a window of Probitatis – his rifle aimed for the back of Antonia's head.
Troy's hand went to his trembling lip. Slowly Antonia rose her head as if sensing his sympathy. His chest ached as he stared up at her – moved by her sad but brave gaze.
The breeze stirred her hair and she shivered from the cold. The shot rang out and Troy flinched. He closed his eyes, a harsh gust of wind biting his rough cheeks, as the crowd roared the revolutions words.