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My respect for the man grows. As does Kalindora’s, it seems.

“There is your monster in the shadows waiting to strike at Venus, Asmodeus!” Atalantia laughs. “All that fretting over a delusional suicide. Why, I daresay we shan’t ever need bring the fight to the Rim. If we can just get them to all lie to one another, their honor will take care of the rest!”

“Romulus was an Iron Gold,” I say. “Honorable by any measure.”

“Several steps short, it seems,” Ajax corrects.

“He deserves your respect,” I snap. “Or at the very least the courtesy of not laughing before his progeny.”

The militant Falthe finally breaks his silence. “I will not be lectured about honor by a scarless boy, no matter his name. I was at Ilium, young man. Romulus slew my sister. He drew his blade across her belly until her spine cut down the middle. Until you have fought these…woebegone ruminants in a corridor, you know nothing.”

“You ask us to respect Romulus, Lysander?” Atalantia asks. “Respect for a man whose honor outweighed the common good? Respect for the fool whose very rebellion allowed for the Reaper to rise? Respect for the traitor who fought side by side with the slave hordes at Ilium? Who forsook his duty so terribly that even his own brother could not stand at his side?” She wags a slender finger at me. “I think you’re still lost, Lysander. Or are you as mad as them? What do you think, nephew?”

Ajax tongues his teeth in contemplation. “He doesn’t look mad.”

“So you’re not mad,” Atalantia says. She comes nose-to-nose with me, her tone warm and confiding. “Then what are you? Confused? Did they torture you?” Her eyes flick to Diomedes and Seraphina. “Was it the brute? Or the dusty little mouse? We’ll peel them apart if you like. Put them on one of Atlas’s poles.”

“You need an ally to tip the scales.”

She frowns. “No. All I needed was imperium. For years, Father kept me on a leash as he waged his conventional retreat. Apologies, war. For a hybrid foe, you need a hybrid warrior. I have turned the tide, Lysander. My agents spread poison in the enemy’s citadel. Atlas spreads it to the cradle of their birth. Soon the rabble will slaughter one another. We need no traitors here. We are upon the cusp of victory.”

I search their faces and find nothing but arrogant isolation. Each is barricaded behind their own power and prejudice. It is warranted. Some recall relatives lost in the Rim’s two rebellions. Many believe in the cultural superiority of the Core. But all remember the taxes the Rim’s rebellions cost them.

They cannot stand to admit the Rim would be helpful. So they must be humbled first. It would be far easier had I battles to my name. Legions at my call. A scar on my face. But the tools I do possess are not exactly toothless.

“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you do not need the Rim. But…” Atalantia turns on me with a warning look. “…if you have all you need, then why are there so many ships still damaged by the Battle of Caliban?” I ask. “Orion did not go down without a fight. Why not send the crippled ships back to the Dockyards of Venus for retrofit?” I look around innocently. No one answers. “Unless there is some reason you cannot? Perhaps the Minotaur did more than kill Magnus after he was freed by Darrow. Did he, by chance, take the dockyards while he was on Venus?”

“You little scheming weasel!” Asmodeus cries. “How could he possibly know that?”

“How many ships did the Minotaur take?” I press. “All that were in dock? Clearly this play against the Free Legions is a trap to lure the Republic fleets. Draw their main might and sneak around to raze their planets. But without support from Venus, you can’t sail on Mars or Luna. The jaws of the trap are set, but your foot is in it too.”

“Lysander, please. Enough showing off,” Atalantia says.

“After the Minotaur’s capture, many of his men must have gone over to you, Atalantia. How many swell to his banner now? How many ships have slipped away? Apollonius was a popular man. And it would make a curious mind wonder why he would be so eager to kill Magnus. Perhaps he was betrayed. Given ov

er to the enemy.”

They look at me as if I’ve suddenly grown fangs.

I may not know the rules of the Rim. But I know the Core. And I was right. Apollonius was betrayed. Likely because of his popularity.

I feel a sense of loneliness. These are the people who Cassius thought would send assassins for him. The ones he judged so much worse than the Rising that he gave his life to ensure they never won this war. If they do not even agree to entertain the idea of allying with the Rim, then he died for nothing.

“My goodmen, you are mid-stride into a campaign. One which I assume was intended to be an unrelenting advance. But without lifting a finger, Darrow has cut off your back foot. Without your docks and reinforcements, you are unable to go forward or backward. I offer you an ally ten years fresh. One with no claim nor desire nor manpower to rule your spheres. They have been spit upon, and they have come for satisfaction. Refuse them if you must. It is your choice to make, not mine.”

The crickets by the fountain carry the conversation.

Ajax is the first to speak. “If we destroy the Free Legions as they strike the Belt bastions and the Dockyards of Phobos, the trauma to the Republic would be absolute. Lysander’s argument is not without virtue. Nor does it detract from our imminent endeavor.”

“I know his argument has virtue,” Atalantia snaps. “It’s obvious to a genital wart it has virtue. I. Just. Hate. Moonies.” Her fingers trace Hypatia’s scales as she thinks. “I will be terribly honest, young Diomedes. I don’t think it wise to dance with venomous creatures I didn’t nurture as pups. But you did not kill my father, did you? Nor Octavia for that matter. Nor Aja nor Moira. Murdering you would be to court quagmire. And there are so many others you can help me kill.

“Answer me this. Your docks were destroyed, yet somehow you found a way to build new ships like that curious corvette in my hangar. No, I will not dissect it, because it will likely detonate if I do, yes?” Diomedes shrugs. “Clearly you have an energy source to make war feasible, even though the termites have made Mars an impregnable bastion. How? Are you using foil caraval to skim helium from the Gas Giants?” She bares her teeth. “I know Atlas would know if you dared mine the Kuiper…” Diomedes remains motionless as Atalantia’s queries multiply. “How many warships does the Rim possess? How many legions? These are things I need to know.”

Diomedes is amused she thinks he would ever tell her. “In the event of an alliance, any tasks given to the Rim necessary to the agreed-upon strategy will be fulfilled. That is all I will say.”

“Oh, to be young and think you know how things are done,” she says to the Primuses. “These are not injurious queries, Diomedes. If I don’t know how strong you are, why would I choose you for a dancing partner, young man?”

“Because all others are taken, and the song creeps upon crescendo.”