Everyone, everyone, has a plan.
Mom will “give me the world” on a blood-strewn plate. The Prime will map me, Niles will stop him at the expense of himself, and the Brinkers will kill off everyone with my blood—my lesser-than-thou nonroyal blood—that they can get their hands on just to prove a point. Like Mom’s trying to prove a point, and Niles, and hell, even the Prime.
Do this or die. Do this or they’ll die.
Do this, or I’ll get myself killed for you.
You were always meant to rule, Kit.
“Really? Then maybe you should have stuck around for the last ten years teaching me how!”
I kick the wall. It doesn’t care.
I have more bruises than the wing at this point. Serves me right. None of this is the flightwing’s fault.
I drop to the floor and stare at Yonni’s heart. It beats in its box, quiet and innocent. No one would suspect. No one would even dream.
Think, Kit.
The Prime thought he could reinstate power soon, that it wouldn’t be difficult. He doesn’t know Mom. With or without power, he’ll probably try to take over the House.
What had Niles said? Even if your mom blew ten Archives, she couldn’t touch my dad.
Lady Galton okayed the gutting of the Brinkers’ home planet, so as far as integrity goes, she’s on level with the Prime. The bloodling Heir is lost to the abyss, since the records point to me.
There has to be another out.
I breathe deep, switch on the fresheners, and wait for Mom to show.
She does. Soft mouth, soft eyes. “There you are.”
“Tell me about the virus override,” I say. “And how you’re controlling the feeds.”
Mom said I have to be in range of the central grid. So I stand on the southern end of the Gilken Tower, bare toes curled over the roof edge, hair bound tight so it doesn’t blow. It’s breezy up here. Dark below, dark above. The cloudsuites with backup generators thrive in glow-dotted harmony, while the rest of the city looks on in shadow. Traffic whirs, private flightwings, and panic. Not here, though. This street is as dead as the tower under my feet.
The flightwing fills the rooftop at my back. I don’t know how the hell Pali landed it in the space, but she managed. Definitely worth her weight in hardware. It’s probably not the safest or most secure vantage, but I know this roof—where it is in proximity to the blown Archive and the city’s power grid.
More than that, I know the view.
I switch on the three freshener sticks sticking out of my side pants pocket. Metallic Seafin. Burnt Ash.
Energized Renewal.
I had to be very precise indeed to get the name of the last one.
I rub Yonni’s heart. It beats with the blood in my ears as the scents trigger the implanted receptor, then transmit the override signal to the grid. It burns, hot and hotter, glows bright between my fingers.
I balance on the pads of my feet and focus on the skytower cluster near Low South’s Market, with the giant ad-screens that can probably be seen from space.
“Transmit override code K581M,” I say. “Project me as Millie Oen and restart the grid.”
The city blazes. A thousand windows and streetlights rocketing to life.
I let go of the heart. “Begin projection.”
Mom’s face appears everywhere—in shop windows and digitized street signs, on the massive ad-screens half a district away.
I tip my head and so does she, in tandem.
Right, let’s do this.
“Do I have your attention?” I say and she echoes in an all-encompassing boom. “Excellent.”
She smiles and so do I.
“I was hired by the Prime to eradicate the true bloodling line. I was supposed to destroy all physical DNA records, which meant destroying the Archive. This, I did. Those deaths are on my head.”
I won’t pass that responsibility off, not even on the Prime.
“It was wrong. I should never have taken the job, listened to the Prime. I should have had the courage to stand against him. It may be too little too late, but I’m standing now. The only DNA you’ll find in the official bloodling records is mine. So unless you want me as your next Heir and House Lady, I suggest you rework your governmental structure and sort out your shit.”
I lean back and fold my arms, which has Mom glaring on-screen. “Also, as soon as this message wraps up, I’m reinstating the blackout everywhere except the Outer Brink. This whole House runs on stolen energy bought with blood. Lord Galton harvested the independents with their populations still on-planet, and we all just stood by and watched. And his wife? Lady Galton? She plans to do the same thing to our own people, to the planets on the Brink—which is why they get to keep their energy, and you don’t.”
Softer, under my breath, I add, “Project indie loop.”