“Nadia!”
His icy eyes bore into me. “I reasoned with you. You refused. I treated you with due regard. You didn’t listen. I tried to spare you this, but you are an insolent child. You don’t get to choose. I’ve already chosen for you. You want to be a man? Learn the consequences. Power is all that ever matters. Defy power and you will be broken.”
“Monster!” My voice breaks into a wail. Edgaard holds my head against the deck. “She was carrying our child!”
There’s no response to this, only the sound of the waves.
“Our baby. She was carrying our child! Nadia! Nadia!”
My body is racked by coughs and sobs. The men just stare. A siren calls out, lone and forlorn in the distance.
“Let him up,” Edric says finally. The pressure of Edgaard’s and Alberich’s weight lifts from me, but I don’t rise. I am pasted to the wet deck, sobbing.
“Get up,” Edric commands coldly.
I push myself to my hands and knees. I look at him through blood streaming down my face.
“Coward! You claim power is all that matters? Face me, you piece of human waste! You killer of innocent women! You killer of unborn children! Champion of the Combat? No. Coward!” I spit into his face. “You are champion of filth! May all your riches fade to dust and your name pass unremembered!”
It is the ultimate insult to a man who wants to live forever and have his name written across the Elder Stars.
“Get up,” he says again. Alberich and Edgaard grab my limbs and stand me upright. “I will fight you,” he says simply, his voice unwavering.
I’ve never fought my father before. He’s terrifying. I hesitate but only for a moment. Hatred outweighs fear. I charge with all my strength. I kick. I punch. I’ve been trained, but I am out of practice since I left House Julii. Still, I’m not helpless. Whirling, I strike, clipping him across the jaw. I see his eyes widen with a startling realization—I am a threat—the son he thought was weak and useless.
Now he exerts his full strength. He is not a boy soldier; he’s no automaton. He is a seasoned pit fighter who clawed his way from the bottom of an arcology to stand triumphant over all comers. Even my fury doesn’t make me equal. He is the perfect balance of strength, speed, and deadly accuracy as he blocks everything I throw at him. His hand whips out. He punches me in the throat, the only punch he even throws. One touch and I crumple.
“You’re weak,” he says evenly. “Your child would have been weak, too. They would have taken him in the Pavaka.”
I gasp for air. I plod forward. Don’t give up, I think. I just need one scratch to end him. Anything. Just one. For Nadia.
Kick. Punch. Jab. Cross. Uppercut. Jab.
He grabs my fist—actually grabs it in midair. He turns my wrist back. Snap. My bones break. Then his fist comes for me again. It slams me like a rock. My vision goes black, then starry. I can feel my cheekbones indented, crushed like a seabird’s eggshell. Still I try to stand.
“Edmon.” I hear my name being called. Something slams sharp and swiftly against the back of my head.
A sea monster slithers beneath the waves of my dreams.
CHAPTER 15
ELEGY
I exist in glimpses: an azure island sky, the white adobe of the manse, a set of doors opening . . .
Eventually, I become aware of my weight hoisted between two people, my feet dragging on the ground.
“What is the meaning of this?” asks an outraged voice.
“Edmon Leontes has abdicated his position as your overseer,” says Edric.
Edric or maybe the monster of the sea?
“Put him down or I promise—”
“Ah, yes, the music teacher.” I feel the smile in my father’s tone. “You’ve made enough promises to my son.” Bones snap. A body hits the floor. The Maestro stares up at me at an odd angle, blood trickling from his mouth.
“Stop!” I recognize Gorham’s voice.
My body sags as one of my supports leaves me—Edgaard, I think. I cannot reconcile this lanky man with the innocent-eyed memory of my brother.
A cry from Gorham is followed by a wet smacking sound against the stone floor.
“Cleopatra?” Alberich asks.
“End it. Swiftly,” Edric responds.
Darkness again.
I’m strapped to a chair. Edgaard and Alberich sit across from me. My arms feel heavy. The rest of me, sore and weak. Am I underwater? Inside a fishbowl?
“What’s wrong with me?” The words are thick on my tongue.
“You’re under mild sedation,” answers Alberich.
“Drugs from Nonthera make you weak, open to suggestion,” adds Edgaard. “In the event that you might decide to try something foolish before the wedding.”
“Wedding?”
Nadia. My mother. Maestro Bertinelli and Gorham. Murdered. All so I could marry Miranda Wusong and secure my father’s position.
“The preparations are underway. You’ll be married within the next diurnal cycle,” Edgaard replies coolly.
I turn my eyes. It feels like they travel a kilometer before I look Alberich square in the face.
“There was never any chance for peace, was there?” I ask through numb lips.
He is silent. I rest my head against the seat back and close my eyes.
“Once you’ve done your duty, it will be over. Father will let you live out your days on Bone. You can return to a life of obscurity, provided you never sing of rebellion or raise a word against the Electors and High Synod again,” says Edgaard.
To the depths with you, brother.
“Don’t you care about your family?” he goes on. “About the future of this world?”
I summon the strength to open my eyes one last time. I stare at him with blades of hatred. I barely have the strength even for that. Sleep takes me.
I wake. How long have I been here? Have I been slumbering this whole time?
Aquagraphic images flash before my eyes.
“Edric Leontes was born in the arcologies of Tao. Through his own cunning and strength, he rose from the killing matches of the Under Circuit to gain sponsorship, fighting under the House Wusong banner in the Combat,” the computerized voice drones, accompanying images of my father fighting.
Why are they showing me this? I cannot move my arms or my legs. I’m in some sort of pod, bathed in a kind of gel. The images and sound project in front of me.
“Edric’s happiest moment was not his wins in the arena, but rather it was the birth of his eldest son, Edmon Leontes.” My father strides from the birthing chamber to the balcony, where he holds a child to the star of Tao and proclaims, “This is Edmon, the son of Leontes. Let all behold and claim, ‘The son is greater than the father! He is a leviathan!’”
My father loves me. The thought soothes me.
“Edmon grew up in House Leontes under the watchful tutelage of their loyal seneschal Alberich and guidance of his father. Even the emperor, Old Wusong, noticed the boy’s intelligence and tenacity at a young age.”
I didn’t grow up in House Leontes. I grew up on the Isle of Bone . . . didn’t I? A scene plays out. I’m a child standing before the throne of Old Wusong. I make a joke, and the entire audience laughs.