And I almost believe him. I hear the guards gathering outside to ambush me.
“You defied The Companions. Your popularity with the people grew. When I learned you had taken a lover . . .” He shakes his head and looks at me squarely. “I wouldn’t have done it, Edmon, if I had known your woman was with child.”
You will not speak of her! My blade sings.
“That’s it, boy! I killed one unborn by accident, but billions yet unborn will be murdered if you don’t kill me now and stop the Julii. You and I don’t matter, nor do our loved ones in the face of this.”
A single tear of blood glides down his throat.
“Your mother, your wife, your teachers, your child—all paid the price for your obduracy. You could have married Miranda, waited until Old Wusong died, waited until I died. You could have annulled the marriage when the time was right. Your stupidity forced my hand. If I couldn’t teach you, I knew Faria the Red would break you.”
It’s true then. Faria was commissioned by my father the entire time. He betrayed me. I did not want to believe it.
“The old warrior, a legend when I was a boy for his skill, also had a vendetta against the Julii. He ensured that Bruul Vaarkson took note of you. He healed your island friend so that you could be led into a trap . . .”
Toshi . . .
“Nothing you have suffered has been without my forethought or design. I knew you’d hate me. That hate was necessary for what you have to do now.”
My head spins.
“I would’ve saved you from it if I could. Now let your suffering be for a purpose. These shaking hands of mine can no longer grip a dagger. I could not commit suicide and blame it on you even if I wanted.” He holds up his old, gnarled hands before him. “I beg you to take my life. Make a better future.”
Damn him! If I kill, he succeeds. If I do not, this world is doomed.
I hear the familiar whisk of camglobes. Three silver balls hover around us, dropped from a hidden compartment in the ceiling moments ago. No doubt the globes will automatically release the broadcast the moment I complete the patricide.
“Do it!” he screams.
There are no voices in my head anymore. No monsters or memories telling me who I am. My entire life has led to this moment, this choice. All the pain, suffering, and death my father engineered so that I would transform from a boy to a monster, a leviathan. All so that I would succumb to the violence he thought I needed to kill my rival, to kill him, and take the throne of Tao. Yet, I understand that this is not balance. One does not rise honorably, as worthy, through blood. One does not save the soul of a world by desecrating his own. I see the path before me, the choice I must make to do what is right, though it may have dire consequences for the people of this planet. It breaks my heart for the future when I choose to do what I must do. I will not take his life.
“You’d let the universe suffer for your own selfishness! Give me your sword!” he screams. “I’ll take my own life and say it was you, damn you.” He tries to reach out but can’t even lift his weak arms. “Edmon, please,” he begs.
I’ve come for this final face-to-face now so that he knows, before I go, he has failed utterly. Then again, I’m not as good as I’d like to be, either. The siren sword sings. The blade cuts cleanly. Blood spurts and then oozes. Edric screams and writhes. I pick up the memento from the floor, slick with blood. I gently tuck it into my pocket and pull out the aquagraphic recording cube. I place it at the foot of the bed and depress the playback indentation. Sound blasts from the cube.
“He and I had already agreed to end the great Edric Leontes. The poison had already been administered into his food and drink.”
“Bastard!” The croak escapes Edric’s lips.
“There was a feast following the Pavaka. Revels lasted into the night. The bargain was to be the dissolution of your nuptials, our claim to the throne of Wusong removed, and in return, I would wed the heir of House Julii.”
Security will arrive to find my father in pain, primed for a good, long stint in a regeneration tank. He’ll live out his last years in slow deterioration knowing that no son will take his head or title.
“Alberich should have been testing the food.”
I listen wistfully for a moment to the echo of my lost voice, then turn to leave.
“Alberich’s always resented Father for defeating him in the Combat . . .” I jump to a ventilation shaft, remove the grate, and crawl in to the air duct. Security guards burst through the doors to my father’s chambers as my sister’s confession plays over the loudspeakers.
“Hurry!” Lavinia shouts.
I run toward where she stands on the roof.
“Is it done?” she asks breathlessly.
I nod. She has not heard the record of her voice implicating her in my father’s poisoning.
“You won’t regret this, brother.” She kisses me fully on the mouth. I’m still as a statue, repulsed, but not wanting to tip my hand.
The howl of screamers pierces the night. Two transports with black carapaces strafe the Wusong towers as sonic weapons pulse from defending House Leontes sondis. The rooftop doors open behind us. Dozens of Leontes guards in silver and midnight blue pour onto the roof. I shove Lavinia behind me defensively and unsheathe my siren steel.
An explosion rocks the tower, and I’m hurled to the ground along with everyone else. I quickly turn to see one of the House Ruska screamers in flames as it sails into one of the Wusong towers. Glass explodes, and flames burst upon impact.
Phoebe!
The second Ruska screamer careens through the sondi blockade. My younger sister leans out the cargo bay door, her auburn hair whipping in the wind. “Edmon! Jump!” she screams over the engines.
I take one last look at Lavinia standing among the guards, alone and haughty, and then I run.
“Edmon!” she shouts as I leap and dive into the cargo bay of the screamer transport.
“Pilot!” Phoebe shouts. “Get us out of here.” The screamer veers away, dodging fire from the sondi blockade. I look out a porthole and watch as Leontes guards swarm the rooftop. Lavinia turns to greet them and is shoved to the ground. She tries to rise, and a guard smacks her with a pike. The figures grow smaller as we pull away. Alberich, too, is carried by the guards and thrown to the ground next to her. Edric Leontes, his face bleeding from two holes where his nose should be, is carried on a palanquin toward them both.
Lavinia looks up at me in the retreating screamer, bewilderment on her face. Our eyes lock, and she realizes that I’ve outmaneuvered all of her betrayals, just as the sondi turns and I lose sight of them all forever.
Phoebe collapses to the cargo bay floor, racked by sobs. I go to her. “Beremon,” she whispers through tears. “He was aboard the other screamer. He thought that it was better if we split our forces. If one of us didn’t make it . . .”
I reach my hand out to comfort her, but she stands and strides toward the cockpit before I can.