“Your loss, beautiful.” Hanschen shrugs.
This has become routine—Hanschen flirts, and the others laugh. While I attempt to fit in, he will attempt revenge when the moment is right.
“As I said, there’s a gift waiting for the Companion who returns with the data card first.”
I picture the red-haired youth sitting on his posh throne in the Julii tower watching us squabble on an aquagraphic. This has also been routine—Phaestion talking to us from on high, sparingly handing out praise and affection. He’ll hold celebrations where he will invite only one of us, but not the others. He’ll join us in the practice arena every once in a while, holding court among the boys, but choosing to ostracize one. The constant competing for approval has started to wear thin for me. Phaestion used to be my friend unconditionally. Now we all fight for him like a pack of wolf eels.
“Approaching drop zone,” the pilot’s voice says, cutting in over the intercom.
“You will be competing against the plebeian cadets of the academy and against one another as well.” Phaestion laughs.
Competing for him, I think angrily.
I flip my headset to a private channel. “Phaestion.”
The sophistication of this point-to-point satellite transmission is quite beyond anything Tao had even a decade ago. Slowly the Pantheon has been incorporating the tech of other worlds into their arsenals.
“Edmon?”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“Doing what?” he responds. He’s probably cocking his head to the side in mock innocence.
“Dropping us out of a sondi, having us scavenge, pitting us against each other?”
“It’s just a simulation, Edmon,” he says coolly, his words the same as they were that night.
This whole thing is to punish me.
“This is how soldiers fight,” he says.
“We aren’t soldiers,” I argue.
“We’ve always been warriors. That’s our heritage. You haven’t seen the new arena the Electors have been creating. Since the Fracture Point opened, the Pantheon has been looking to sell the broadcasts and feeds to extraterrestrial markets. They have to make it more dangerous, more exciting. It’s a new world. We have to be ready.”
I see the steely determination in Sigurd’s eyes, Perdiccus’s excitement for the challenge, and the mental calculations Hanschen’s going through. All of it for Phaestion’s love and approval. He has us in the palm of his hand.
“Edgaard is too young,” I say with a snarl.
I turn and see my eleven-year-old brother tightening the straps of his suit. He’s small but hearty, with a wide, square face. He tightens the final strap, completely capable even at this age, a miniature version of what my father must have been like as a boy. There is one crucial difference—Edric’s pale eyes are cold and hard. Edgaard’s soft blues are warm and kind.
“Perdiccus is right. This is going to be fun!” Edgaard beams.
“Edgaard isn’t the weak seal pup you were when you first started training. He’s pure Nightsider,” Perdiccus gibes.
It’s true. Edgaard isn’t plagued with the same lack of skill, nor crippling sensitivity, but I’m not the same boy anymore, either. I’m stronger, my bones tougher than before. Physically, I’m now their equal. I’ve learned to show them a cold, hard side of myself. In the pit of my heart, though, it’s a lie. I’m not one of them, not truly. I am half Daysider, after all. The teachers’ insistence that the superiority of Nightsider instruction is the source of my achievements quells any question, yet everything from the lessons with The Maestro, to my old home Bone, to my dark hair screams to us all—I am different.
I shove the feeling aside. You are who you say you are, Edmon, and you say you are one of them right now.
Perdiccus punches me on the arm when he catches me staring at Edgaard. “You don’t give your little brother enough credit.”
Edgaard smiles. “I’m going to come in first. Our father will be proud.”
“You think he’s watching?” I ask. Even in the sondi, camglobes hover around us.
“He’s always watching, Edmon.” Edgaard nods solemnly.
No doubt the floating silver orbs will track the whole contest just as they’ve been broadcasting our program for years now. The Exploits of The Companions has been one of the most popular entertainment aquagraphics on the nets. Not that I’ve helped the ratings. I’ve refused to accept a concubine or allow a camglobe during my music lessons. In little ways, I’ve been a thorn in House Julii’s attempt to create a narrative about us even as I’ve tried to fit in.
I don’t care, I tell myself. The Maestro said I might be able to go to Lyria—
“Prepare to disembark,” the pilot’s voice says, cutting into my thoughts.
Perdiccus steps up to the open bay door. “Last one home suffers the humiliation.” He sticks out his tongue and lets himself fall into the twilight.
Sigurd scowls at me. “Don’t get in my way. Or do. I might enjoy that.” He jumps.
Sigurd’s always baiting me these days. It’s his way of showing friendship, if in fact you could say he’s truly friends with anyone. I can tell he doesn’t like how much I’ve improved. It’s threatening.
“They’re numbskulls,” Hanschen says. “But they’re strong numbskulls. Neither of us could take them alone.”
“But if we team up?” I already know where Hanschen’s mind is going. He’s faster than any of us and could outrun them, but if it comes to a fight, he’s at a disadvantage. The way to win is to form an alliance.
“Great minds . . .” Hanschen leers. “Whaddya say, gorgeous?”
“You and me, stunner,” I say. “They won’t know—”
“What hit ’em,” Hanschen finishes. He grins and steps out of the carriage door, diving toward the surface of Tao like a torpedo.
I peer over the edge. My heart leaps into my gullet.
“Edmon.” My little brother’s voice catches me. He looks at me with innocent blue eyes. “Did you just make a deal with Hanschen?”
“If I did?” I ask. Part of me still resents him. He has everything that should be mine. It’s not his fault. He’s not our father. “Only one of us can win. Hanschen will betray me as soon as he has the opportunity, but I’d rather have to deal with him at the end than Perdiccus or Sigurd.”
Edgaard nods. “How do you know he hasn’t already made the same kind of agreement with one of them?”
“Smart thinking. Does it make any difference if he did?”
“I guess not?”
“You first.” I motion.
He steps up to the doorway but stops. “What about me? Will you betray me if you get the chance?”
Should I lie? Should I tell him I’d never betray him?
“You’re my brother, Edgaard” is all I can say.
He smiles and steps into the atmo.
The rush of the wind is in my ears. I tense. My pulse quickens.
By the twisted star, I don’t think I can do this.