Golden Son (22 page)

“Thirty-nine, forty-two, fifty-six …,” Aja says.

The Sovereign wags a long finger. “Strange. Your heart gives you away.”

I clear my mind. Let it all fade. Imagine the mines. Remember the wind moving through them.

Remember her hands on mine as we walked barefoot through cold dirt to the place where we first lay together in the hollow of an abandoned township. Her whispers. How she sang the lullaby my mother sang to my siblings and me.

“Fifty-five, forty-two, thirty-nine,” Aja says.

“Is Augustus Ares?” she asks.

Relief floods me. “No. He’s not Ares.”

The door slams open behind me. We turn to see Mustang stalking into the room wearing the gold

and white uniform of House Lune, complete with the family’s crescent moon symbol. A datapad glows on her wrist. She bows to the Sovereign. “My liege.”

“Virginia, you’re still a mess,” Aja drawls.

“Blame this dumb son of a bitch.” Mustang nods to me. “Seventy-three dead. Two Earthborn families erased, neither of which had anything to do with Bellona or Augustus. Over two hundred wounded.” She shakes her head. “I grounded all ships as you asked, Octavia. Praetorian command has initiated a no-fly zone in orbit. All family-owned capital ships have had their warrants revoked and are being pushed beyond the Rubicon Beacons till we give further notice. And Cassius still lives. He’s with the Yellows. Citadel Carvers are preparing plans for replacing the arm.”

The Sovereign thanks her and asks her to sit. “Darrow and I are getting to know each other. Are there any questions you think we should ask him?”

Mustang sits beside the Sovereign.

“My advice, my liege? Don’t try to solve Darrow. He’s a puzzle with missing pieces.”

“That’s rather offensive,” I say, playfully. But her words sting.

“So you don’t think we should keep him?”

“Cassius and his mother will—” Mustang starts.

“Will what?” the Sovereign interrupts. “I made Cassius an Olympic Knight. He will be grateful, and he will study his razor so this does not happen again.” Her face softens and she touches Mustang’s knee. “Are you all right, my dear?”

“I’m fine. Seems like I interrupted your game.”

I can’t tell which woman is playing the other. But with Karnus’s words at the gala, and the knowledge that the ships were grounded before I even started the skirmish, I know the Sovereign had plans. And now I think I can piece together just what they were.

“One last question. I’ve been saving it for the end.”

“Do ask, boy. We have no secrets here. But it must be the last. Agrippina au Julii has been kept waiting long enough.” Aja opens the box so the Oracles may go back inside.

“Tonight, at the gala, during the sixth course of the meal, did you plan to allow the Bellona to assassinate ArchGovernor Augustus and all those who sat at his table?”

Aja freezes. Mustang slowly turns to look at the Sovereign, whose face shows no hints of dishonesty. The woman breathes easily and with a soft smile lies through her teeth. “No,” she says. “I did not.”

The Oracle’s barbed tail strikes at her flesh.

16

THE GAME

Fitchner ’s razor buzzes, and he chops away the tail faster than a bee beats its wings. It flops to the floor, transparent stinger hissing out poison. On the Sovereign’s arm, the wounded creature screams.

Wailing and writhing like a dying cat. The Sovereign rips it off and throws it at the wall. My own releases slowly, as if connected with the other. Mewing pathetically, it retreats to its box to hide in the darkness. I dab away the faint trail of blood it left on my forearm.

“So you do lie,” I say with a wicked grin.

The Sovereign exhales a long sigh.

Mustang stands, enraged. “You promised you would not hurt them. You lied.”

“Yes.” Octavia rubs her temples. “A matter of necessity.”

“You said there were no lies here,” Mustang hisses. “That was a precondition of my allegiance to you. The
only
thing I asked for, and you planned to do it while I watched?”

“Sit.” The Sovereign stands, drawing nose-to-nose with Mustang. “Sit down.”

Mustang sits, breathing heavily. She won’t look at me or the Sovereign. She’s surrounded by betrayal. The Sovereign notes this, piecing together a new strategy as Mustang draws a gold ring from her pocket and rolls it compulsively through her fingers.

“Do you know why I need your family gone?” Octavia asks Mustang. She doesn’t reply. “I asked

you a question, Virginia. Put aside petulance and answer.”

“He is a threat to peace,” Mustang replies flatly, slipping the ring on her finger. “He disregards your orders. He does not obey financial directives. He delays helium-3 experts for political gain.”

“If I tried removing him from power, what would happen?”

Mustang looks up at her. “He would rebel.”

“So what am I to do? If he rebels while on Mars, it becomes his planet fortress. The monies it would take me to pry him out—to find him, to kill him, to reinstate order—is … incomprehensible.

Ships. Men. Food. Munitions. Trade. Helium-3 shortages. The Society would not recover for years.

“We cannot afford an enemy like him. But we also cannot afford an ally to so publicly affront us.

What if the Governors of the Gas Giants thought they were immune to my orders because we’re lenient with your father? Because we let him manipulate helium prices or ignore Sovereign directives? Forty years ago, in the first year of my reign, the Moons of Saturn rebelled. The war did not end until I destroyed the moon, Rhea, outright. Fifty million dead. That is how stubborn our race is. They know how difficult it is for me to flex my hand billions of kilometers from the Core. But still they are afraid. So much of a ruler ’s reign is a figment of the people’s imagination. My power isn’t ships. Isn’t Praetorians. My power is their fear. But they must have fresh reminders.”

“And so my family is to be the reminder.”

“Yes. Tell me that doesn’t make sense.”

Mustang stays quiet for a long moment. “It is the logical political move. But he’s my father.…”

“Which is why I didn’t tell you. Consider this.”

She waves her hand and a holo ignites on the floor, rising to fill half the room. It’s a riot. Buildings smoke. Grays mow down women and men with pulse weapons. She changes the image. A dozen more

dance across the room. A woman falls in front of me, dead. Hole in her skull. Smoking still.

I stare down at the sudden horror.

“Is this Mars?” I ask, fearing for my family.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” The Sovereign traces a finger through the muzzle of a pulseRifle as it fires. “It’s Venus.”

“Venus?” Mustang whispers. “There are no Sons of Ares on Venus.”

“Nor will there be after tonight. The flame spreads even to the Core. Two hours ago, multiple bombings racked this Society. My Politicos and Praetors and various high-level personnel throughout the empire have initiated Order Zero. No media will report this. Wherever there are flames, we make quarantine. We
will
snuff them out. Something your father did not do, Virginia. In fact, he allowed the Sons to thrive. To spread here.”

I warned Harmony. I only hope the Sons aren’t all lost.

The Sovereign crouches in front of Mustang. “Your father must die. He hanged the very woman the

Sons of Ares used to start all this. His face burns across their propaganda. If he goes, if we strike them, then they fade. We will kill two birds with one stone. Arrange the transfer of power to Bellona, and Mars is at peace for the first time in my reign. All it costs is fifty lives. I know he is your father, but you came into my fold for a reason.”

Looking at Mustang, I understand that reason now, and it breaks my heart.

She stands slowly, walking to the window as if fleeing the decision. She stares out at a ship passing in the distant fog. “When Mother was alive, he used to ride with me through the forest. We’d stop at this wildblossom clearing and lay in the red flowers, arms out, pretending we were angels. That man is dead. Do with the new one as you like.”

17

WHAT THE STORM BRINGS

The Obsidians escort me to new quarters, Fitchner trailing along behind, pacing jovially on the marble floors. When we reach my door, he takes my hand.

“Well played, boyo. Good reading on her—knowing she wants what she can’t have. Gorydamn clever. Warms my heart to finally see you playing the game and winning, you little pisser.” He slugs my shoulder. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to market and buy you servants. Pinks. Blues. Obsidians of your very own. For now … I left you a present.” He gestures into my room where a lithe Pink lies on the bed. “Enjoy.”

“You don’t know me at all. Do you?” He sighs and leans forward.

“This is the hand life has dealt you. It’s not a bad hand. Imagine the things you can do as a personal emissary of the Sovereign. She makes your Governor look like a small-town slumlord. You have your girl. You have opportunity. Embrace your new life.”

The door slams.

A new life, but is it worth the cost? I don’t know what’s happening with the Sons. That’s something I can’t affect. But he expects me to let Roque die? To let Tactus and Victra and Theodora perish to Praetorian death squads?

I walk around my suite, ignoring the Pink. Luna’s night clouds sprawl as far as the eye can see beyond the huge bank of windows that comprises the suite’s north wall. Buildings puncture the clouds like glittering spears.

I am trapped by opulence.

Rain continues to pour. The storms of Luna are enigmatic creatures. For a man of Mars, it is a slow rain. Lethargic. As though the drops tire of their own fall in this low gravity. But the winds that come are gales. There are no cracks in the Citadel’s windows through which the wind can whistle. I miss the moans of my old castle on Mars. Miss the laments of the deepmines. Those moments when the drill

cooled and I sat there touching my wedding band through my frysuit, thinking of how soon it would be that I had her lips to mine, her hands on my waist, her body drifting light as dust over my own.

But I cannot think only of the Red girl. When I see the moon, I think of the sun: Mustang burns in my thoughts. If Eo smelled of rust and soil, then the Golden girl is fire and autumn leaves.

Part of me wishes I would remember only Eo. That my mind belonged to her, so I could be like one of those knights of legend. A man so in love with one lost that he closes his heart to all others. But I am not that legend. In so many ways, I’m still a boy, lost and afraid, seeking warmth and love. When I feel dirt, I honor Eo. And when I see fire, I remember the warmth and flicker of the flames across Mustang’s skin as we lay in our chamber of ice and snow.

I examine the empty room, which smells neither of leaves nor soil, but cardamom. The room is too vast for my taste. Too rich. There is ivory on the walls. A sauna. A massage parlor adjacent to a pleasure-Chamber. There’s a commChair, a bed, a small swimming pool. These are my chambers now. I see on a dataFile that I’ve been given a fifty-million-credit stipend to choose my attendants.

They left me an additional ten million to populate my harem. This is the price they pay me for betraying my friends. It is not enough.

My eyes now fall on the Pink who lies on my bed. Naked, covered only by a blanket. I threw it on her to mask her form, thinking of poor Evey when I first saw her. But the longer I look at this new girl, the harder it is to remember Evey, to remember Eo or Mustang. That’s what Pinks are for, to help you forget. So effective they even make you forget their own sad plight. When she grows old, she’ll be sold off from the Citadel staff to some high-class brothel. And a few more lines will form and she’ll be sold down the ladder and down the ladder till she has nothing more to give. It happens to men. It happens to women. And, I’m beginning to realize, it happens to Golds.