Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(24)
“Why?” Balmora asks. She doesn’t seem the least bit alarmed.
“Something’s happening. Something’s not right.”
The death drones blare and move into a tighter formation, herding the secondborn women into a circle around us. Some scream and overturn their chairs, skittering to get away from the drones. I remain calm. In a few seconds, the noise cuts off. Some of the women are crying.
Airships with arsenals pointed away from the beach hover above the water in defensive positions. They appear to be protecting the Halo Palace and the Sea Fortress. On both sides of the beach, guards uniformed in black and gray swarm onto the sand, moving in our direction, fusion rifles resting just below their shoulders. They don’t have their weapons trained on us, so I know we’re not the targets. They scan the water and the cliff’s edges through the scopes on their tactical weapons. A death drone breaks formation and flies menacingly close to Balmora. In its robotic voice, it orders, “Secondborn Commander, return to your residence for lockdown.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Balmora retorts with a scathing look. She’s not frightened, not like her attendants.
The first wave of Exo guards from the Halo Palace makes it to us. The highest-ranking officer steps to me. With his forearm raised to his mouth, he speaks into his moniker. “Secondborn Commander secure. We’ve also located Secondborn Roselle Sword.”
The holographic soldier projected from his moniker says, “Commander Kodaline’s orders are to protect Roselle Sword and bring her to the safe area.”
The firstborn Sword Exo frowns. “What about the Secondborn Commander?”
“Secondborn Commander will be shown to her residence by her security detail.”
The lead soldier nods, ends the communication, and drops his forearm. “Roselle Sword, you’re to come with us,” he states. Balmora’s death drones surround her and her entourage, aggressively prodding the secondborn Virtue-Fated women to retreat to the sea castle. Something’s wrong. Balmora is the most important secondborn here, isn’t she? And yet they’re more concerned about securing me than her. Of course, the orders did come from Dune, but it’s still counterintuitive.
“Promise you’ll come visit me!” Balmora calls in a desperate plea as the drones urge her away. I give her a quick nod so she’ll stop resisting and return to her home. She smiles and turns away, moving at an unhurried pace across the sandbar toward her towering fortress of stone.
Chapter 6
Crow Sights Carrion
A horde of security personnel forms a wall, cutting me off from Balmora. I’ve no choice but to go with the soldiers back to the Halo Palace. We run across the sand toward shelter on the clifftop. The stone stairs are just ahead, but we don’t use them. A concealed elevator in the face of the rock opens behind the colorful tents. The head Exo and ten of his detail all cram into the elegant lift, with me at the center. The rest of the unit falls back and waits. The doors close, and we rocket up to the main level of the Halo Palace.
We emerge from the marble belly of the giant sea god statue. Its head and beard resemble an ancient mariner’s, and its torso merges into the tail of a merman. A downward-thrusting trident is in his grip, frozen as if just before slaying us all.
I’m escorted to Grisholm’s private residence. Cutting through his seaside garden sanctuary next to the formal rose garden, we enter the arching doorways into a labyrinth of indoor bathing pools and bubbling spas. The walls and floors are tiled in mosaics of gold and lapis. Vaulted ceilings and archways are supported by columns carved with mythical sea creatures. The soldiers’ footsteps echo through the bathing chambers. Diamond patterns of light reflect off the water in waves.
We come upon a hall with a glass-domed ceiling. It features the largest, deepest pool at its center. To one side, smaller hot pools bubble and flow together, forming a river with waterfalls. A golden walkway made to resemble shells separates the steaming water from the enormous, cooler pool. Exotic plants and flowers infuse the room with intoxicating scents.
On the other side of the domed hall, posh furniture arranged in clusters circumscribes a lounging area. The floor is glass. Water flows beneath it. A bar of pure glass gleams near the far wall, a massive aquarium, in which vibrantly glowing jellyfish undulate in the calm water. Lighted glass shelves occupy each side. High-end bottles of alcohol line the pristine shelves. Lighted from behind, the bottles smolder with a unique fire.
Seated around a circular table by the bar are Grisholm and six of his entourage. The Firstborn Commander is appropriately attired in a dark-purple swimsuit with a loose shirt, unbuttoned to expose his tanned chest. His companions, all male except for one female, are similarly dressed. Cards are strewn about the table. Sweating bar glasses, with colorful liquors and ice cubes infused with gold-leaf shavings, chill on frosted stone coasters. Blue, green, red, and yellow plumes of cigar smoke hover in the air.
Among the firstborns at the table, the bare-chested one in the black bathing suit catches my eye. He’s fitter and more handsome than the others. His dark hair is wet and slicked back, and his eyes rival the sublime aquamarine of the pool. The moment Reykin spots me, his shoulders lower, and he eases back against his chair with a look of relief. The expression vanishes almost immediately behind a green puff of smoke he exhales.
When he sees me with the guards, Grisholm’s eyebrows lower, slashing together. “They managed to find you alive, Roselle. I was giving odds on it, after the events of a few nights ago. They weren’t very good odds.” He sets his cards facedown on the onyx table and gets to his feet. To the leader of the Exo guards, he says, “You’re dismissed.”