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“You don’t need to be snide, lad.” My eyes flick up to look into Fitchner’s. “You came here to win an apprenticeship. You’ve done that. If you keep pushing the Proctors, they will kill you.”

“I seem to rememember us already having this conversation.”

“Darrow, there is no slagging point to what you are doing! It is reckless!”

“No point?” I echo.

“If you beat the ArchGovernor’s boy, then what? What does that achieve?”

“Everything!” I snap. I shudder with anger and stare at the fire till my voice finds control again. “It proves I am the best Gold in this school. It shows that I can do whatever they can. Why should I even speak to you, Fitchner? I’ve done all this without your help. I don’t need you. Apollo tried to kill me and you did nothing! Nothing! So what exactly do I owe you? Maybe this?” I let the blade slither out.

“Darrow.”

“Fitchner.” I roll my eyes.

He slaps the table. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a fool. Look at me. Look at me, you condescending little twit.”

I look at him. His stomach paunch has grown. His face is haggard for a Gold. His hair yellow and slicked back. He’s never been handsome—less now than ever.

“Look at me, Darrow. Everything I have, I’ve had to fight for. I was not born to an ArchGovernor’s household. This is as far as I could ever go, yet I should go so much further. My son should go further, but he can’t and he won’t. He’ll die if he tries. Everyone has a limit, Darrow. A limit they can’t skip past. Yours is higher than mine, but it’s not as high as you’d gorywell like. If you go past it, they’ll knock you down.”

He stares away as if ashamed, glowering at the fire. His son. It’s in their coloring, in the face, in the disposition and the way they speak to one another. I’m a fool for not saying it out loud sooner.

“You’re Sevro’s father,” I say.

He does not respond for some time. When he does, his voice is pleading. “You make him think he can climb higher than he can. You’ll kill him, boyo. And you’ll kill yourself.”

“Then help us!” I urge him. “Give me something I can use against Apollo. Or better, fight them with me. Gather the other Proctors and we will take the battle to them.”

“I can’t, boyo. I can’t.”

I sigh. “No, I thought you wouldn’t.”

“My career would be over in a pinch if I helped you. All I’ve slaved for, all the many things, would be risked. For what? Just to prove a point to the ArchGovernor.”

“Everyone is so frightened of change,” I say before smiling sincerely at the broken man. “You remind me of my uncle.”

“There will be no change,” Fitchner grumbles as he stands.

“Never is. Know your damn place or you won’t make it out of this, boyo.” He looks like he wants to reach and touch my shoulder. He doesn’t. “Hell, the trap’s already set for you. You’re walking right into it.”

“I’m ready for the Jackal’s traps, Fitchner. Or Apollo’s. It makes no difference. They won’t be able to stop what’s coming for them.”

“No,” Fitchner says, hesitating for a moment. “Not their traps. The girl’s.”

I answer him in a way he will understand. “Fitchner. Do not play me for a fool with vague, annoying references to duplicity. My army is mine, won in heart and body and soul. They can no more betray me at this point than I can betray them. We are something you have not seen before. So stop.”

He shakes his head. “This is your fight, boyo.”

“Yes. It is my fight.” I smile. Now is the time I’ve been waiting for. “Fitchner, hold up,” I say before he reaches the door. He stops and looks back. I kick back my chair and stride over to him. He eyes me curiously. Then I stick out my hand. “Despite everything, thank you.”

He clasps it. “Good luck, Darrow,” he says. “But take care of Sevro. The little shit will follow you anywhere, no matter what I say.”

“I’ll take care of him. I promise.” My Helldiver grip tightens on his hand.

For a moment, if only a moment, we are friends. Then he winces at the pressure my hand is putting on his. He laughs at first, then he understands and his eyes widen.

“Sorry,” I say.