Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(14)

“You’re talking about the destruction of the Fates Republic.”

“I’m talking about a new world order—one that doesn’t tolerate Census agents or government-owned slaves.” Fear so strong it makes my knees weak courses through me. He means a world without Transition Days, without people like Agent Crow. I’m afraid of wanting that world, because it’s not real, and allowing myself to hope for such a place could crush me. Dune reads my fear. His voice is gentle when he says, “For now, you’ll be Grisholm’s mentor. You can handle that. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“What about Reykin? Did you know he’s here and he hijacked my mechadome?”

“I know. He briefed me before I came to find you. He’s protection for you. Cooperate with him. He’s here to help you.”

“He’s annoying,” I mutter.

“Is that why you saved him on the battlefield? Because he annoyed you?”

“I couldn’t kill him like they wanted me to—like a coward would kill.”

“So, you saved him instead. That’s why you’re the one who will change our future.”

“I love my brother,” I blurt out.

“I’ll do everything in my power to save Gabriel, but he’ll never be The Sword. He’ll have to accept that.”

“He’ll never accept it.”

“Then that’s on him. Do you want me to call a medical drone for your neck?”

I touch my throat, where my blood has mostly dried. “The assassin shouldn’t have tried to slit my throat. He should’ve just stabbed me from behind—thrust his knife through my nape.”

“You wouldn’t have made that mistake,” he replies.

“I should’ve killed the third one.”

“No, taking him alive was optimal. You would’ve followed him into the water had Reykin not stopped you?”

“Of course.”

This brings a small smile of approval to Dune’s lips. “Reykin was right to stop you,” he says. “You cannot take risks like that. Your life is very important.”

Dune and I talk late into the night. He asks me questions about the past year. He’s especially interested in Clifton Salloway and the Rose Garden Society. I don’t seem to know anything more about the Sword secret society than what Dune does already, but I’m not sure, because he isn’t as forthcoming with his information about the Rose Gardeners as I am.

“You haven’t spoken much about Hawthorne,” Dune says.

“We’re friends,” I reply with a shrug. I feel very protective of Hawthorne. Members of the Gates of Dawn have been watching us—Daltrey admitted as much.

“He helped you when you needed him.”

“That’s how it is when you’re a secondborn soldier. We have each other’s backs.”

“But he’s firstborn now.”

I don’t like what he’s implying. “You’re basically firstborn, Dune, but you’re still loyal to thirdborns.”

“Be cautious with Hawthorne. The lifestyle of a firstborn of the aristocracy is seductive. The longer he’s a part of it, the more he may get to like it.”

Dune’s words anger me, not because he’s wrong, but because he’s right, and in direct opposition to what my heart wants. The thought of not being able to trust Hawthorne again tangles with the love I feel for him and puts me in an even fouler mood.

“I’d like to speak to Hawthorne,” I say.

“That’s not possible now. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

My hands form angry fists, and I rise from my seat abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me, the evening has caught up to me, and I wish to rest now.”

“Of course. Forgive me for keeping you so long.”

I wave my hand, dismissing his apology. “I missed you, and I wanted to see you.”

“I’ll make time for you whenever you need me, Roselle.” Dune lifts the whisper orb from the table. The iridescent bubble around us bursts. “I’ll walk you to your apartment.”

“I can manage it on my own.”

“I know you can handle yourself, but I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“I insist. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

I’m out of step with our new relationship. Dune wants us to pull the pin on this world and watch it explode. He’s willing to risk everything for change. I’m worried about who will be left standing.

Disappointment shows in his eyes. “A lot has happened in a year, hasn’t it? At least allow me to walk you to the lift.” I nod. Dune escorts me to the opulent foyer. “Rest for a day, Roselle. Grisholm’s training can wait.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear that.”

I retreat into the glass elevator car. When I look back at Dune, there’s sadness in his eyes, just like on the day we were forced to part. This man, no matter what he says to the contrary, will always be my mentor—or much more than that. Before the doors close between us, I lurch out of the elevator and into his arms. He squeezes me tightly, resting his chin on the top of my head.

“You’re my father, Dune,” I whisper so only he can hear me. He acknowledges my words with an even tighter hug. When he lets go, I enter the elevator and descend from the halo.