She’s their prisoner. We’re not so different, she and I, secondborns to the two most powerful Clarities in the world. But unlike me, Balmora’s family wants her alive, in case something happens to Grisholm. Mine wants me dead so there will be no alternative to Gabriel.
“What do you do here all day?” I ask. “Do you have a job of some sort?”
She shakes her head. “I have no duties and few interactions with anyone, apart from my staff and the occasional visitor. But now that you’re here, you can be my special friend and come for tea and tell me about all the things you’re doing out there in the world.” I’d hardly call the Halo Palace “the world.” It’s more like the most privileged island in the world. “Please say you’ll come!”
“I’ll come when I can,” I reply.
On the walk back, she chats nonstop about her visit to the Sword Palace when we were children—her memories of me and of Gabriel. It’s clear that she has romanticized that time, talking about Gabriel as if he’s the most heroic person she has ever met. I try not to become irritated. I’m not really mad at her. I’m mad at our parents and society for turning the chivalrous boy into a bitter man. When we near her easel, she shows me her oil painting. To my untrained eye, it’s exquisite, the exact likeness of the castle in the sea before us. “This is beautiful, Balmora. You’re an artist.”
“I’m not allowed to be an artist,” she replies, her lips pouting. But I know my compliment has made her happy because her mood changes quickly, and she pounces on my arm once more. “You have to let me paint your portrait! I won’t take no for an answer.”
“But I—”
“I said I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer!”
“I don’t know the first thing about sitting still.”
“No. You wouldn’t, would you?” She giggles. “We’ll figure something out.”
She needles me until I say yes, and I spend the next few hours watching her paint the castle. She teaches me about perspective, using a focal point to determine the angles and lines. It’s fascinating. I use focal points to target and kill. She uses them to capture and create.
We have a small picnic together, set up by her secondborn staff on the beach under a luxurious awning with tables and chairs and linens. We sit apart from the other secondborn women, who talk quietly among themselves about the upcoming Secondborn Trials and their favorite Diamond-Fated actors. I pick at my food, afraid to try anything not tested by Phoenix first. I only eat the finger foods from the same plates as Balmora, even when she tries to offer me things she’s not eating. A part of me feels stupid and paranoid. Another part of me knows everyone is a potential enemy.
Balmora grills me about life at the Sword Palace, and especially about Gabriel. She listens to my tales recollecting his childhood games and acts of chivalry. These are the only stories I can give her, because after the age of eleven, I hardly ever saw him. She laps them up like the pastry cream on her fingertips.
“Do you want some advice?” Balmora asks as she wipes her hands with her napkin. She has a smile much like her mother’s, though more sublimely impish than wickedly beautiful.
“I don’t know. Depends on what we’re talking about.” I set my napkin aside.
“My brother hates to be embarrassed above all else. If you want him to do what you tell him, that’s your leverage.”
I think about it for a moment. “Thanks.”
The tide is fully out now, and the sea castle is completely exposed. The sun is scorching. It’s so much warmer here than in Swords. By this time of year, we’d be issued heat-regulated armor. I should wear a bathing suit the next time I come to the beach.
The dishes are just being cleared by mechadomes when combat airships suddenly fly by overhead. The teacups tremble on their saucers. I shield my eyes and track them. They’re new, heavily armored troop carriers. By the look of them, they have multiple types of guided missiles and advanced combat weaponry. The Salloway Munitions signature is in every sophisticated line of the airships. Clifton is nothing if not meticulous when it comes to his products, and I would know his designs anywhere.
“What is it?” Balmora asks.
Several more fly over in combat formation. “We should get off the beach,” I warn as I get to my feet.
“Why?” Balmora asks. She doesn’t seem the least bit alarmed.
“Something’s happening. Something’s not right.”
The death drones blare and move into a tighter formation, herding the secondborn women into a circle around us. Some scream and overturn their chairs, skittering to get away from the drones. I remain calm. In a few seconds, the noise cuts off. Some of the women are crying.
Airships with arsenals pointed away from the beach hover above the water in defensive positions. They appear to be protecting the Halo Palace and the Sea Fortress. On both sides of the beach, guards uniformed in black and gray swarm onto the sand, moving in our direction, fusion rifles resting just below their shoulders. They don’t have their weapons trained on us, so I know we’re not the targets. They scan the water and the cliff’s edges through the scopes on their tactical weapons. A death drone breaks formation and flies menacingly close to Balmora. In its robotic voice, it orders, “Secondborn Commander, return to your residence for lockdown.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Balmora retorts with a scathing look. She’s not frightened, not like her attendants.
The first wave of Exo guards from the Halo Palace makes it to us. The highest-ranking officer steps to me. With his forearm raised to his mouth, he speaks into his moniker. “Secondborn Commander secure. We’ve also located Secondborn Roselle Sword.”
The holographic soldier projected from his moniker says, “Commander Kodaline’s orders are to protect Roselle Sword and bring her to the safe area.”
The firstborn Sword Exo frowns. “What about the Secondborn Commander?”
“Secondborn Commander will be shown to her residence by her security detail.”
The lead soldier nods, ends the communication, and drops his forearm. “Roselle Sword, you’re to come with us,” he states. Balmora’s death drones surround her and her entourage, aggressively prodding the secondborn Virtue-Fated women to retreat to the sea castle. Something’s wrong. Balmora is the most important secondborn here, isn’t she? And yet they’re more concerned about securing me than her. Of course, the orders did come from Dune, but it’s still counterintuitive.
“Promise you’ll come visit me!” Balmora calls in a desperate plea as the drones urge her away. I give her a quick nod so she’ll stop resisting and return to her home. She smiles and turns away, moving at an unhurried pace across the sandbar toward her towering fortress of stone.
Chapter 6
Crow Sights Carrion
A horde of security personnel forms a wall, cutting me off from Balmora. I’ve no choice but to go with the soldiers back to the Halo Palace. We run across the sand toward shelter on the clifftop. The stone stairs are just ahead, but we don’t use them. A concealed elevator in the face of the rock opens behind the colorful tents. The head Exo and ten of his detail all cram into the elegant lift, with me at the center. The rest of the unit falls back and waits. The doors close, and we rocket up to the main level of the Halo Palace.
We emerge from the marble belly of the giant sea god statue. Its head and beard resemble an ancient mariner’s, and its torso merges into the tail of a merman. A downward-thrusting trident is in his grip, frozen as if just before slaying us all.