trusted you. All my life. You were more than my tutor.” Her voice broke. “I thought you were my friend.”
At that point the dam that had been holding back all her unspent emotion broke open. She began to sob convulsively at the same time she was shaking Monq back and forth. For the family she had witnessed murdered. For the agony she had endured. For the uncertainty and confusion. She continued to hold him up with her left hand while she brought her right hand back and formed a fist with every intention of striking Monq in the face.
Storm, having been captivated by the unfolding drama, like everyone else in the room, swiftly moved into action. He grabbed her by the hand she had drawn back and pulled her away and into his arms. She curled into him willingly, hugging him around the waist, and sobbing into his chest for what seemed like a very long time.
When finally she quieted and began to regain some composure, she felt humiliated by the public breakdown. No one in the room was unaffected, not even the hard crusted Sovereign. No one in the room thought she was acting a part. Storm turned to Sol and suggested that they delay the hearing for a day.
Sol nodded. “Yes. Let the young lady have a day. Reconvening here tomorrow. Same time.”
Storm called for Jim, the orderly/guard, who was waiting just outside the Chamber doors, and asked him to see Elora back to the infirmary. He leaned down and promised her that he would follow momentarily.
When she was clear of the room, Storm looked from face to face around the table. “I think there’s a good chance that we know more about what’s happened than she does. It was a mistake to keep her isolated and completely in the dark. It may even have been cruel.
Surely you understand that she’s the victim here. When she arrived here, in this very room, she was as good as dead. It’s more than a miracle she’s not. I know because I was there. If you saw what she’s been through you’d know that nobody, no matter how zealous or masochistic, would willingly go through it. Give me clearance to tell her what we know.”
Monq, still looking pale and shaken, slid down into his chair. “I, for one, am convinced that she doesn’t understand what has transpired. I am also tending to agree with Sir Storm that it would be more productive to work together to sort this out. She needs answers as much as we do.”
Sol leaned against the table. “Anybody mind if I smoke?” Sol didn’t wait for an answer, but took out one of his little, black cigars and lit it with an old fashioned, ornate lighter, the kind you refill with lighter fluid.
Storm figured Sol must have listed off kilter. Smoking in the building, outside the poker room, was against the rules and Sol wasn’t the sort to call a rule a guideline. He was strictly by the book.
“Dr. Monq is right. She has skin in the game.” Sol winced slightly when he realized that was an unfortunate choice of phrase. “Any objections to briefing her?” Heads collectively shook from side to side. Sol surveyed the group, then nodded at Storm giving him an implied "go ahead".
Storm judged this a good time to press further. “She wants out of that room. What does she have to do to make that happen?”
Sol took a lengthy drag on his cigar, exhaled, and said, “She just has to tell the truth. Supported by polygraphic evidence. When we’re satisfied that everything is what it seems, we’ll explore the possibility of alternate quarters.” Sol looked down at his cigar. “That comes with a new set of problems though.
We can’t send her out into the general population saying ‘have a nice life and don’t mention that you’re from another dimension’. Likewise, we can’t give her freedom of the building and grounds without divulging the details of who we are and what we do.” He looked up at Storm again. “But I agree that we’re not in the business of imprisoning innocents. If she proves by truthful statement that she is a
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