“That’s my son,” Kavax reminds my mother.
“…and he comes on over the hill leading a column of my housemembers. Darrow and Cassius feel the ground shaking and go screaming into the loch where they clung together for hours, shivering and turning blue.”
“Blue!” Kavax says with a huge childish laugh that makes the Sons eavesdropping unable to keep their composure. Even if he’s a Gold, it’s difficult not to like Kavax au Telemanus. “Blue as blueberries, Sophocles. Isn’t that right? Give him another, Deanna.” My mother rolls a jelly bean across the table to Sophocles, who waits eagerly beside the bottle to gobble it up.
“What’s going on here?” I ask. Eying the bottle my brother’s refilling the Golds’ mugs with.
“We’re getting stories from the lass,” Narol says gruffly through a cloud of burner smoke. “Have a dram.” Mustang wrinkles her nose at the smoke.
“Such an awful habit, Narol,” she says.
Kieran looks pointedly at our mother. “I’ve been telling both of them that for years.”
“Hello, Darrow,” Daxo says, standing to clasp my arm. “Pleasure to see you without a razor in your hand this time.” He pokes me in the shoulder with a longer finger.
“Daxo. Sorry about all that. I think I owe you a bit of a debt for taking care of my people.”
“Orion did most of the minding there,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. He returns gracefully to his seat. My brother’s captivated by the man and the angels tattooed on his head. And how could he not be? Daxo’s twice his weight, immaculate, and more well-mannered than even a Rose like Matteo, who I hear is recovering well on one of Quicksilver’s ships, and is delighted to know I’m alive.
“What happened with Dancer?” I ask Mustang.
Her cheeks are flushed and she laughs at the question. “Well, I don’t think he very much likes me. But don’t worry, he’ll come around.”
“Are you drunk?” I ask with a laugh.
“A little. Catch up.” She swivels her legs down and puts her feet on the ground to clear a space on the bench beside her. “I was just getting to the part where you wrestled Pax in the mud.” My mother watches me quietly, a little smile on her lips as she knows the panic that must be going through me right now. Too shocked at seeing two halves of my life collide without my supervision, I sit down uneasily and listen to Mustang finish the story. With all that’s transpired, I’d forgotten the charm of this woman. Her easy, light nature. How she draws others in by making them feel important, by saying their names and letting them feel seen. She holds my uncle and brother in a spell, one reinforced by the Telemanus’ admiration for her. I try not to blush when my mother catches me admiring Mustang.
“But enough of the Institute,” Mustang says after she’s explained in detail how Pax and I dueled in front of her castle. “Deanna, you promised me a story about Darrow as a boy.”
“How about the gas pocket one,” Narol says. “If only Loran was here…”
“No not that one,” Kieran says. “What about…”
“I have one,” mother says, cutting off the men. She begins slow, words sluggish through the lisp. “When Darrow was small, maybe three or four, his father gave him an old watch his father had given him. This brass thing, with a wheel instead of digital numbers. Do you remember it?” I nod. “It was beautiful. Your favorite possession. And years later, after his father had died, Kieran here got sick with a cough. Meds were always in short ration in the mines. So you’d have to get them from Gamma or Gray, but each has a price. I didn’t know how I was going to pay, and then Darrow comes home one day with the medicine, won’t say how he got it. But several weeks later I saw one of the Grays checking the time with that old watch.”
I look at my hands, but I feel Mustang’s eyes on me.
“I think it’s time for bed,” mother says. Narol and Kieran protest until she clears her throat and stands. She kisses me on the head, lingering longer than she usually would. Then she touches Mustang’s shoulder and limps from the room with my brother’s help. Narol’s men go with them.
“She’s quite a woman,” Kavax says. “And she loves you very much.”
“I’m glad you met like this,” I say to him, then to Mustang, “Especially you.”
“How’s that?” she asks.
“Without me trying to control it. Like last time.”
“Yes, I would say that was quite the disaster,” Daxo says.
“This feels right,” I say.
“I agree. It does.” Mustang smiles. “I wish I could introduce you to mine. You would have liked her better than my father.”
I return the smile, wondering what this is between us. Dreading the idea of having to define it. There’s an easiness that comes with being around her. But I’m afraid to ask her what she’s thinking. Afraid to broach the subject for fear of shattering this little illusion of peace. Kavax awkwardly clears his throat, dissolving the moment.
“So the meeting with Dancer didn’t go well?” I ask.
“I fear not,” Daxo says. “The resentment he harbors runs deep. Theodora was more forthcoming, but Dancer was…intransigent. Militantly so.”
“He’s a cypher,” Mustang clarifies, taking another drink and wincing at the quality of proof. “Hoarding information from us. Wouldn’t share anything I didn’t already know.”
“I doubt you were very forthcoming yourself.”
She grimaces. “No, but I’m used to making others compensate for me. He’s smart. And that means it’s going to be difficult to convince him that I want our alliance to work.”
“So you do.”
“Thanks to your family, yes,” she says. “You want to build a world for them. For your mother, for Kieran’s children. I understand that. When…I chose to negotiate with the Sovereign I was trying to do the same thing. Protecting those I love.” The Telemanuses share a glance. Her finger traces dents in the table. “I couldn’t see a world without war unless we capitulated.” Her eyes find my Sigil-barren hands, searching the naked flesh there as if it held the secret to all our futures. Maybe it does. “But I can see one now.”
“You really mean that?” I ask. “All of you?”
“Family is all that matters,” Kavax says. “And you are family.” Daxo sets an elegant hand on my shoulder. Even Sophocles seems to understand the gravity of the moment, resting his chin on my foot beneath the table. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I nod gratefully “I am.”
With a tight smile, Mustang pulls a piece of paper from her pocket and slides it to me. “That’s Orion’s com frequency. I don’t know where they are. Probably in the belt. I gave them a simple directive: cause chaos. From what I’ve heard from Gold chatter, they’re doing just that. We’ll need her and her ships if we’re going take down Octavia.”
“Thank you,” I say to them all. “I didn’t think we’d ever have a second chance.”
“Nor did we,” Daxo replies. “Let me be blunt with you, Darrow: there is a matter of concern. It’s your plan. Your design to use clawDrills to allow the Obsidians to invade key cities around Mars…we think it is a mistake.”
“Really?” I ask. “Why? We need to wrest the Jackal’s centers of power away, gain traction with the populace.”
“Father and I do not have the same faith in the Obsidians you seem to have,” Daxo says carefully. “Your intentions will matter little if you let them loose on the populace of Mars.”
“Barbarians,” Kavax says. “They are barbarians.”
“Ragnar’s sister…”
“Is not Ragnar,” Daxo replies. “She’s a stranger. And after hearing what she did to the Gold prisoners…we can’t in good conscience join our forces to a plan that would unleash the Obsidians on the cities of Mars. The Arcos women won’t either.”