Page 89

“That was Thistle, sir.”

“Who?”

Thistle was the Howler who betrayed them and joined my brother’s Boneriders ten years before. That’s how Sevro is. Betray him and you’re purged from existence.

“The civilian toll was likely catastrophic,” I say, “but go on and make jokes.”

“Civilians.” He snorts. “You haven’t met many Mercurians lately. Mosquitoes, all of ’em. If Darrow wants to die, he couldn’t pick a better planet to take with him. Those freaks actually like chains.” He yawns. “Surprised. Thought if anyone could get him to come back for his boy, it’d be you.”

“Oh, so we’re making him a monster so you feel better,” I reply. “I said: Pax is in danger, race back and rescue him because I’m not actually the most powerful person in the Republic. I need my husband. Boo hoo. Weak and helpless am I. Pax needs you.” I look at Pebble. “And Darrow replied, ‘Pax who?’?”

Sevro just sits there.

“I didn’t ask him to come back, you little diva. I agree with his decision. He’s where he should be.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re a mother, how could—”

“Careful, Sevro. I’ve never questioned your love for your children. Do you really want to question mine?”

“He chose war over his boy. He’s gone Iron Gold on us. Doesn’t care about anything else,” he drawls.

“And you want to pretend that was easy for him. I see. Does that soothe your conscience? It was a long ride back from Venus.” He looks away. “Don’t tell me you weren’t eaten alive with guilt. Electra is one person. One. You chose her over ten million who’d die for you. Ten million you inspired. Who chanted your name. Who left their families behind to follow you.” It’s risky, but he needs this slap in the face. “What about your responsibilities? What about the families of the Free Legions? What about your oath to this Rep—”

“Fuck the Republic.”

Behind him, Pebble looks at the floor. I thought so.

“Selfish jackass,” Holiday snaps at him.

“Traitorous twat.”

“Traitor? That’s rich after Wulfgar.”

“Accident.” He looks at me. “He got in our way.” He jerks his head back at Holiday. “Seriously, shut the fuck up. You don’t even have a kid. We were your family. We put you back together after Trigg punched the ticket. And you didn’t even have the balls to come with us to Venus. So teeth together and look crusty beside your new master, cuz we all know you’re wet bread inside.”

Theodora really doesn’t like that.

“Sevro, dear. You haven’t had your balls for ten years. You gave them to Victra as a bridal dowry. And let’s not get started on how many times I’ve seen you cry. Wet bread indeed.”

Sevro looks calmly over to me. “They know I hit women, right?”

“We’re trying to save Darrow’s life,” I say. “We are trying to protect the future while you—”

“My girls are my future,” he snaps. “They got a lot of life ahead of them. Only way they’ll be safe is if I teach the Syndicate a lesson no one will ever forget. If you touch a Barca, you cease to exist.”

“You are shortsighted, emotional, and in dereliction of duty, Imperator.” I glare at Pebble, and at the shadows on the ceiling. “That goes for all of you.” Pebble rocks from foot to foot. “You want me to butter you up? Say I understand? Give you a hug? Get over yourself, Sevro.”

“Talk. Talk. Talk.” Sevro spits on the table, getting my hand. The coffee does little to hide the halitosis he gets in the field. Gross. “Slag it. My balls are growing a beard.” He pulls Tickler, a knife as long as a child’s forearm, from his boot and sets it down on the table. “You got a duke that needs castrating. We got history, so I gave you a word. Bored now.”

“You won’t be castrating anyone,” I say.

“Think you can stop me?” A grin slashes his face. “When was the last time you got your hooves bloody in a tussle, horsey? You’re gonna need more than those forty rear-echelon Pixies on the roof and old Holi here to stop us. Maybe you got big bitch Daxo hiding in the wings? A horde of Lionguard waiting to pounce? You don’t want to go full metal with me, not today.”

“Don’t insult your own intelligence by insulting mine,” I reply. “If I wanted to put you in irons, I’d have activated a containment field and embedded gravity engines in the ground that would subject you to an ungodly quantity of G’s that would knock all of you idiots unconscious in your fancy armor, Cyther-made or not. But I didn’t because this is a family affair, and I fear further damage to your already questionable gray matter.”

He doesn’t trust me. “Winkle,” he says into his com. “Sky? Still clear?” He grunts at the reply. “Keep an eye out. Daddy’s going to carve a steak.” He sets his coffee down and stands.

“You’re not the only one who lost a child,” I say. That makes him pause. “Yet you play this charade, knowing the pain I’m in. Knowing the fear I feel. I would never do this to you.”