Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(17)

“What do you call it?” The orb is icy to the touch. The cool sensation travels across my skin on contact. In seconds, I’m practically hypothermic.

“Nothing yet, I just made it.”

“You just made it?” I ask, agog. “How did you know it would work?”

“I didn’t.” He snatches it back from me, powering it off and returning it to his pocket. “But you were crying.”

“I was crying?” I feel sweaty. I need his device back so I can get rid of my blush.

“I thought someone was hurting you,” he replies gruffly. He looks away.

“I think you should call it a ‘phantom orb,’” I mutter, trying to change the subject. “Can you make me one?”

“No.” He scowls, turning and leaving.

I follow him.

Reykin switches on the lights with a holographic board in the hall. In the drawing room, the iridescent glow of a whisper orb draws my attention the moment I cross the threshold. The orb sits silently on the low table, its bubble spanning the entire apartment. Reykin set up a perimeter to hide me in.

“Why won’t you give me a phantom orb?” I ask as I catch up to him in the foyer.

“Because you’ll use it. You’re supposed to be Grisholm’s mentor. You’re not to go snooping around the Halo Palace. You’re not to do anything out of the norm. End of story.” He finds Phoenix inside the niche in the foyer wall, connected to a recharge station. He squats down and disengages the unit.

I talk to his back. “Maybe I don’t want it for here. Maybe I can use it to go back to Swords . . . see if I can get a secret meeting with my brother.”

Reykin lifts the heavy mechadome. Turning, he brushes past me. “Your brother will kill you. Didn’t you learn that last night? Or even last week? You’re not leaving Virtues. That’s final.”

“You don’t know that Gabriel had anything to do with what happened last night.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

“If he did, it’s because he’s afraid of—”

“Gabriel should be afraid. I’ll kill him if he comes near you again.” He sets the fat bot on the table in the formal dining area.

“My brother—”

“Doesn’t love you. He wants you dead.” He lifts a silver case from a chair and places it on the table next to Phoenix.

“You don’t understand!”

Reykin rounds on me, his expression furious. “What am I missing?” he demands.

I place my hand over my heart and whisper past the aching lump in my throat. “I told you before. I love him. I feel for my brother what you felt for your little brother before they killed him. Gabriel didn’t take Radix’s life. He didn’t do that to you. Census did that. The Fates Republic did that. You’re condemning Gabriel for wanting to live—the same as I want to live.”

Reykin’s hand closes around the nape of my neck, gathering me to him. My cheek rests against his chest, and I stare at his bicep where it strains against his sleeve. I choke back tears, refusing to cry in front of him ever again. I’m surprised by his embrace, but at the same time I’m not. Because we’ve saved each other’s lives in the most harrowing of situations, I have a very visceral connection to him. A trust beyond what’s rational. “That’s not why I want Gabriel dead,” Reykin says softly. “I want him dead, Roselle, because he’d rather kill you to save himself and his dying way of life than change and grow stronger to protect you. We’re never going to see eye to eye on this.”

I pull away from him. “No, we won’t.”

Reykin sighs. “Do you want to help me make some upgrades to Phoenix?”

“Aren’t you afraid Grisholm will wonder where you are?”

“I left word for the Firstborn Commander that I was going into the city to visit some establishments and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.” He faces the table and removes fasteners from Phoenix’s hull.

“What kind of establishments keep you out all night?” I murmur, mostly to myself. I pick up a tool and ease a fastener from Phoenix’s side.

“For a soldier, you’re very na?ve,” he replies, but there’s a look of relief on his face.

“I’m not na?ve,” I reply with a sniff. “I work with arms dealers and the underbelly of Swords society. Are you talking about some kind of betting establishment?”

“No,” he replies. “I’m talking about a pleasure house.”

“Oh.” My spine straightens. “Do you visit them often?” I want to bash him over the head with the fastener extractor in my hand.

“No, it’s just a cover.” I don’t know whether I believe him. My frown says as much. He becomes angry again. “Those places offer the rape of secondborns who have no choice. If you know anything about me, know that! What do you think I’m doing here?”

“Okay. I’m sorry,” I reply. “What exactly are you doing here?”

“I’m trying to change the world.” He’s as intense as Dune. I could drown in the depths of his eyes.

“Is that all?” I ask with a small conciliatory smile. “I thought you were here to make sure I do everything you tell me to do.” I’m overwhelmed by the firstborn Star and his plan of the future. I even find it mildly amusing because it’s so insane. His ambitions are in direct opposition to how I was raised—where conformity to the rules of the Fates Republic is paramount. He expects me to just switch my thinking and my loyalties to fit into whatever vision he sees this rebellion taking.