“Theodora?” the Sovereign asks.
“You know my thoughts,” she says. “The longer we hold this from the Senate, the more it discredits the transparency you promised them. Senator Caraval is already inquiring about the unusual traffic over Hyperion.”
“It’s stupid to go before them until my son is safe here, by my side,” the Sovereign says. “I won’t have those men saying a mother can’t govern when her child is in danger. They’ll smear me and call a referendum to make me step down before the vote. With Caraval and the Coppers lost, we’re going to lose six to seven. My veto is all that can stop this absurd peace process.”
“Who would replace you?” Theodora asks.
“The Senate would vote. Majority rules until next election,” Daxo answers.
“Until we know who did it, there will be suspicion that this is a ploy to delay the vote…” Theodora says.
“I already know who did it,” the Sovereign replies. Theodora and Daxo exchange confused glances. “The Syndicate was hired. But by whom? Who has the most to gain?” She waits for an answer. None comes. “It was the Ash Lord. He can’t beat our legions, so he’s after our Senate. Darrow was right. This happened because I was weak, because I was tired. I never should have let the Vox chase him away.”
She focuses back on the holo of her son’s ship making its way back to Hyperion, her long fingers tapping her side.
“Lyria,” she says, eyes boring into me. I don’t bow my head this time, but stare back at her, knowing this is when the axe falls. Yet her tone surprises me. “You made a dire mistake, girl. One that should end your service to me, to anyone. But without you, we would not have found this Volga and…” She spares a glance to Holiday. “…Ephraim. Soon my boy will be back with me, because you were brave enough to own your mistakes. I must now own mine.” How could she ever understand what her mistakes cost me? She’s lost her son for a few days and she thinks she knows. She’ll never know the mud. The flies.
“You lost your family,” she says. “You trusted the Republic and we broke that trust.” Then I’m struck dumb. She goes to a knee. Her eyes on the ground. “I do not deserve it, nor must you give it, but I ask, all the same: Will you forgive us? Will you forgive me for not doing better?”
Forgive her?
I don’t understand the idea. Nor do her councilors. They gawp down at her, as off-footed as I am. Her golden braids are even with my eyes. There’s loose strands. The faint, earthy smell of oil and the coffee from her breath. I hear the air enter her mouth and fill her lungs and whistle out her nose, see her shoulders rise and fall. The power is shed, her naked soul there in front of me. She’s just a woman. Just a mother with more children than any other. Maybe she does know my pain. Before this, she was a freedom fighter. A soldier. It’s easy to forget that. She’s seen mud, and now I think she remembers it.
I can’t hold on to the anger or the pettiness or the pain. I want only to help her, to protect families like mine. Letting go of that anger doesn’t spit on the memories of Ava or Tiran or the children. It honors them. And for the first time I can remember, I feel hope.
With a trembling hand, I reach and touch her head.
She stands afterwards. “Thank you.” I nod, unable to put what’s inside me into words that don’t sound stupid. “A storm is coming to the Republic,” she says softly. “This was just the first breath. You still have a part to play in all of this.”
“What could I ever hope to do?” I ask.
“You have a voice, don’t you? When I go before the Senate, I will need you as a witness. Your testimony will save lives. It will bring the men behind this to justice. Will you help me, Lyria of Lagalos?”
“If you promise me that Liam will be looked after, and his eyesight given to him. I know there’s a way. But I don’t have the money.”
She looks down in amusement. “Are you negotiating with me?”
“I won’t help you if you don’t help him.”
“Very well. It’s agreed.”
I spit in my hand and stick it out to her. She looks down at it in surprise, then shakes my hand.
I’m guided by Holiday to the door. There, I turn back around. “I wonder…could I see Kavax?”
“No,” the Sovereign says. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea right now.”
I nod and follow Holiday out of the room.
At the doorway to my room, I stop. “Could you tell Liam I’m all right?” I ask her. “He must have been worried.”
“He was told you were on an errand for Kavax,” she says. “He wasn’t worried.”
“All the same. Could I see him? I won’t say a thing to him.”
“I’m sorry, it was risk enough bringing you to speak with Ephraim. We can’t have any more security risks.” She watches my face fall without sympathy. Then a sigh escapes her thin lips. “What if I take him candy or a little cake or something and say it’s from you? Would that cheer you up?”
“You’d do that?”
She shrugs. “What’s his favorite flavor?”
“Chocolate.”
“All right.” I wait expectantly, looking up at her. “What? You want a hug? Get inside.” She shoves her fingers against the opening mechanism. The door slides into the wall.
“Oh,” I say, and step in. “Thank you for the—” The door shuts in my face. “Fucking Grays,” I mutter. The room is not grand, but it’s clean and has a full water bathroom. Exhausted, I turn on the water to the shower till steam rises. I wriggle out of my borrowed clothes, awkward with the shoulder sling, and stand under the stream of hot water thinking of how lucky I am to be alive. To not be on the run.
You’d be proud of me, Ava. Ma. I know that. And there’s more I can do. Help the Sovereign till this is through, and maybe we can bring all those bastards down. But it wasn’t the Syndicate who killed my family. Whatever happens here, those Red Hand butchers will go unpunished. How can that be fair? How can it be right?
I turn off the shower and stand near the exit vents so the hot air can evaporate the water from my stomach and breasts. When I open my eyes, I see a pair of white maid shoes on the wet white tile. My eyes track upward. The woman is a Brown in her mid-thirties with two great moles, a hooked nose, and a bird nest of hair. She holds a gun in her hand. At the end of it is a large hypodermic needle that she pulls out of my chest. I take a step toward her and lose my footing. I don’t even feel the ground come up to greet me. The world fogs and spins. And the last I see is the woman patting my face.
“Hello, traitor. House Barca sends their regards.”
APOLLONIUS, SEVRO, AND I cut our way through the fortress guards. It seems most of the manpower was sent to fight beyond the walls, likely to stop Apollonius’s force from ever making landfall. Those who remain offer thin resistance to our combined violence. After shattering a trio of Gold bodyguards near the gravLifts, we divide to search more efficiently for the Ash Lord. Sevro and I stick together, while Apollonius sets off on his own.