Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

of course. Nothing as obvious as that. But if she were to try and leave the tower without getting her father's permission first, polite guards would calmly but firmly insist that she return to her apartment while they waited for instructions from the Shreck. And they'd walk back with her, just to make sure she didn't get lost along the way. The Shreck wanted her going outside as little as possible. Officially, he was concerned that the Empress might try
    and seize her, to become one of her maids—a mentally conditioned slave with no will of her own. Lionstone had already done it once with the Shreck's niece. No one had done anything. No one had said anything. No one dared, not even the Shreck.
    But mostly Gregor was concerned that Evangeline would he revealed as a clone, in these very anti-clone days. If it were ever revealed that the Shreck had cloned his daughter after she died suddenly, and then passed the clone off as the real thing, there would be outrage in the Court and in society. Being replaced by a clone of oneself was an aristocrat's worst nightmare. Gregor would be punished and ostracized, and the clone Evangeline would be destroyed—mostly for the crime of having fooled them all for so long.
    But even that wasn't the whole truth. The Shreck kept her a prisoner because he could. He wanted to love, cherish, and own her completely, as he had his real daughter. For the Shreck had loved his daughter not as a father, but as a lover.
    Which might have been why he killed her. Evangeline didn't know the true story.
    The Shreck insisted it had been an accident, but he liked to drop hints, now and again, that no one ever defied him and lived to boast of it. Evangeline kept her head bowed and did as she was bid. For though she hated her father and would have killed him in a moment if she could, she had no choice. By playing the loving, dutiful daughter, she bought the Shreck's protection for her true love Finlay's wife and children, as she had promised Finlay she would. He never knew the price she paid. He must never know, or he would come storming up out of the underground to take a terrible revenge, not caring if he died as a result.
    Evangeline cared, so she never told him. She loved him so much she played a role that was destroying her, and never once allowed herself to think how unfair that was.

    Evangeline was cracking up, though she hadn't realized that yet. She had too many commitments to too many people. To her father for his protection. To Finlay and his family for his love. To the clone and esper underground for the Cause.
    They all wanted something from her, and sometimes their needs clashed. It was getting harder to keep them separated. Different lies for different people, until the truth got lost in the smoke. She still loved Finlay with all her heart, though she saw him less and less. The underground kept him busy with missions he never explained to her. She had been the underground's contact with the Court and society, but since she got out so rarely now, she was of less and less use to them. She couldn't explain. They might tell Finlay. And, of course, she couldn't ever tell her father about Finlay or the underground. He'd kill her for what she'd done—for defying him, for daring to love someone else.
    After all, he could always clone another Evangeline. He'd done it before.
    And so she walked up and down in her apartment, thinking furiously, beating at the shifting walls of her various personas, getting nowhere, going quietly insane. She hardly opened her mouth to anyone, for fear of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. And always worried that the next person at her door would be from security, with a warrant to drag her away to the interrogation cells. They'd make her talk. Everyone depended on her silence—lover, father, and Cause—and she felt less and less dependable with every day that passed. So far she had kept herself from cracking up through sheer force of will. Partly, because of her love for Finlay, and partly, because of all those who would suffer if she was weak. If she allowed herself to be weak.
    And so the weight she carried grew ever heavier, and she could not, would not, put it down. Poor Evangeline.

    She jumped despite herself as her comm unit chimed politely, alerting her to an incoming call. She knew who it was, who it had to be, but she went to answer it anyway. She sat down before her dressing table, and the mirror cleared to become a viewscreen, showing her the