Page 43 of Punished and Trained
I could see him now, an elegant figure in an evening suit, older than First Minister Havelorn and possessed of an indefinable charisma that made me think with a mortified pang of my own days as a chief executive. Solamo marched with his head held high and his hands clasped behind him, to within three meters of the dais where his successor looked down at him with scarcely contained frustration.
Until the distinguished, solitary protester turned to focus his and everyone else’s attention on me, I hadn’t even fully processed what he had shouted. Now a shudder went through me as I felt the weight of a fellow leader’s gaze.
“President Herranofar,” he said in a clear, ringing voice. “I wish to apologize for my world’s treatment of you.”
CHAPTER 20
Viola
The words hit me like a physical blow, and for a moment I felt transported back to the diplomatic chambers where such formal apologies carried the weight of worlds.
“You were a leader among leaders,” Solamo continued, his voice carrying across the stunned assembly with practiced oratorical skill. “A woman who commanded respect throughout the galaxy, who negotiated treaties that preserved peace between star systems. And now…” His gesture encompassed my nearly naked form, the cloak barely concealing my shameful state of undress. “Now you stand here as a plaything for Magisterian entertainment.”
The assembled Euporian elite shifted uncomfortably as Solamo’s words challenged the very foundation of their society. I could feel Prince Hendren’s tension radiating beside me, though his expression remained coldly composed.
“This is not what the Good Way was meant to become,” Solamo declared, turning to address the crowd directly. “Our foundersenvisioned a society where those who chose traditional roles could flourish—not a world where brilliant women are reduced to sexual trophies for foreign princes.”
My mind raced as I processed his words, political instincts that had been dormant for weeks suddenly awakening. There was something calculated about this interruption, something that felt less like genuine outrage and more like a carefully orchestrated performance. The timing was too perfect, his positioning too strategic.
“Fellow Euporians,” he continued, his voice rising with passionate conviction, “I call upon you to remember that the Good Way was meant to offer choice, not compulsion. We must modify our laws to provide equal voice to those who would choose an egalitarian path.”
The crowd murmured with growing unease as Solamo’s speech gained momentum. I watched First Minister Havelorn’s face darken with anger, while several of the other masters moved protectively closer to their newly claimed concubines.
But something about Solamo’s rhetoric struck me as hollow, rehearsed. His words carried the polish of a professional politician, but they lacked the genuine fire of true conviction. As I studied his face, I noticed subtle tells I had learned to recognize during my own years in office—the slight overemphasis on certain phrases, the way his eyes didn’t quite meet those of his audience.
“President Herranofar,” he said, turning back to me with theatrical solemnity, “you need not accept this degradation. Speak out against your treatment. Demand the dignity that your position and your service to the galaxy have earned.”
The assembly held its collective breath as all eyes turned to me. I could feel the weight of expectation, the sense that this moment would define not just my own fate, but potentially the relationship between Euporia and the Federation. Prince Hendren’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on my shoulder, though whether in warning or support, I couldn’t tell.
My political experience, honed through years of navigating treacherous diplomatic waters, screamed warnings at me. The timing of this protest, the careful staging, the way Solamo seemed more concerned with theatrical effect than genuine liberation—all pointed to ulterior motives.
I felt the familiar clarity that had served me so well in diplomatic crises, cutting through the shame and confusion that had clouded my thoughts for weeks. This wasn’t about my dignity or Artemisia’s freedom. This was about power, and someone was using me as a pawn in a larger game.
“Former First Minister Solamo,” I said, my voice carrying across the hushed assembly with the authority I had once wielded in planetary councils. The words felt strange after weeks of whispered submissions, but they came naturally, as if muscle memory had taken over. “Your concern for my welfare is touching, but I have to wonder—who exactly is paying you to disrupt this ceremony?”
The question hung in the air like a blade. Solamo’s practiced composure flickered for just a moment, a tell so subtle that only someone trained in political maneuvering would catch it. But I had spent years reading such expressions across negotiating tables.
“I beg your pardon?” he replied, but I could hear the slight tremor in his voice, see the way his hands clenched behind his back.
“The timing is too convenient,” I continued, my diplomatic instincts fully engaged now despite my scandalous state of undress. “A former first minister doesn’t risk his reputation and safety with such a public display unless someone has made it worth his while. So I ask again—who is funding this little performance?”
The crowd stirred with interest as the dynamic shifted. What had begun as a challenge to my degradation had become something else entirely—a former president exposing what appeared to be a calculated political maneuver.
Prince Hendren stepped forward slightly, his voice carrying quiet authority. “An interesting question, Miss Herranofar. Perhaps we should investigate. Colonel Quinst, would you be so kind as to contact Federation intelligence? I believe a financial trace on Mr. Solamo’s recent transactions might prove illuminating.”
Solamo’s face had gone pale, but he attempted to maintain his indignant stance. “This is outrageous! I’m simply trying to?—”
“Your Royal Highness,” Colonel Quinst interrupted, consulting his handheld with military efficiency. “Federation intelligence reports several large deposits to accounts linked to former First Minister Solamo over the past month. The transfers appear to originate from… Vionian remnant cells.”
A collective gasp rippled through the assembly. The revelation that Solamo was potentially working for enemies of both the Federation and Euporia transformed the entire situation.What had seemed like principled opposition was revealed as something far more sinister.
“Vionian agents,” Prince Hendren said coldly, his eyes fixing on Solamo with predatory intensity. “How predictable. They seek to destabilize our alliance by exploiting what they perceive as weakness in our methods. Tell me, Solamo, what were your orders? Disrupt the alliance? Sow discord between Euporia and the Federation?”
Solamo’s theatrical composure crumbled entirely as the truth was laid bare. His shoulders sagged, and I could see the defeat in his eyes as his carefully orchestrated plan fell apart. “I… this is preposterous. I have no connection to?—”
“The financial records don’t lie,” Colonel Quinst interrupted, his voice carrying the weight of military authority. “Three transfers of fifty thousand credits each, routed through shell companies we can trace directly to Vionian intelligence operations.”
I felt a surge of satisfaction at having read the situation correctly, my political instincts proving as sharp as ever despite my current circumstances. The shame of my exposure seemed to fade as I watched Solamo’s deception unravel before the assembled elite.
