Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(28)

Agent Crow gives Othala only a cursory glance. “Greyon’s interesting,” Agent Crow replies, “but I’m much more intrigued by the story of his lineage.”

My mother thinks for a moment. “You’re referring to the legend?” she scoffs. “Don’t tell me you’re simple enough to believe that Greyon descended from the gods?”

Tittering escapes from the crowd behind.

Agent Crow’s jaw twitches angrily. “Quiet!” he roars. The other Census agents go mute. He prowls off his throne, pacing the dais. The golden crown on his head shifts. He reaches up and adjusts it before turning back to glare at my mother. “You must believe it on some level. You named your daughter after the war goddess.”

Othala’s sharp nails drum on the arm of her throne. I notice a new ring on her finger—an amethyst. It’s strange—she hates purple, and it clashes with her gown. “You do know it’s propaganda, don’t you, Kipson?” My mother can hardly contain her condescension. “We tell the simple folk that we’re descendants of the Goddess of War, and they don’t question our right to rule them. It’s an antiquated notion, but my father insisted that I adhere to it with Roselle. She’s no more a descendant of the gods than I am.”

“Ah, but you are, Othala. You’re just so distant that the immense power the deity possessed has been bred out of you. It seems to be the theme when it comes to the first families. They chose inferior spouses—except for you. Your spouse was different. Your father chose well for you, genetically speaking.” He says this with a thoughtful air, but he doesn’t elaborate further. “Greyon studied the lineage of the gods because he was a descendant of Roselle the Life-Taker.”

My mother’s nails stop drumming. She sits up straighter. “Where’s your proof? You’d need DNA from a myth. You’d need to have located Roselle’s remains.”

“And what makes you think I haven’t?”

“Have you found Roselle’s tomb?” my mother asks pointedly. “Many have searched, but none have found it.”

His face contorts in anger. “Not yet, but I will find it. I’ve already located several false ones.”

Othala’s expression twists into one of extreme irritation. “You haven’t found it because it doesn’t exist.”

Agent Crow gives her a condescending smirk. “No one creates false tombs to hide a myth. You lack imagination, Othala. Have you ever wondered what drives people to have more children than their allotted two offspring? The ban on thirdborns is a simple rule. Why break it?”

Othala’s nose wrinkles in disdain, her fingertips tracing the gilded arm of her throne. “I’m not a Census agent. I cannot fathom why anyone does it. I was loath to have even my secondborn.” Othala’s eyes bore into mine.

“You’re not the nurturing type, Othala. Even so, I believe it’s the pursuit of perfection—the need to create life, to create a perfect being. We are all trying to find our way back to immortality—to being gods.”

My mother’s fingers still on the armrest. Probably wondering, like me, if insanity runs in his blood, she glances at the madman. “We bear children because it’s required by law. Anyone who has more than two is simply an anarchist.”

“Are you an anarchist?” he asks.

Othala shifts in her seat. “Of course not! I follow the laws.”

“Which laws?” he asks. “The old Fates Republic rules, or the new Census ones?”

“I’m your partner, Kipson. I have proven my value to Census. You know that. The only threats left to its rule are the dwindling rebel incursions and my daughter.”

Agent Crow takes the seat beside hers again, slouching into it. His hand reaches out to hers idly, and his fingers caress her skin. She doesn’t move her hand away, but her entire body grows rigid.

“Are they the only threats?” he asks. He studies her hand next to his. My skin prickles. He’s playing with her.

“You’re implying that I’m a threat, but I’ve been loyal. I kept Census’s secrets for years. I’ve helped when you’ve asked. Isn’t that enough?”

“That was before. What have you done for me lately?”

“I’ve provided you lodging in my Palace,” Othala sputters.

“Whose Palace?” he asks. His eyes narrow. “I seem to recall telling you that it’s mine now.”

“That was never the agreement! A St. Sismode has resided in the Sword Palace since its inception. We agreed that I would help the transition to a new form of government, and in return, Swords would remain intact and under St. Sismode leadership.”

“Swords will remain as it is, with a few minor adjustments.”

“You promised that the St. Sismode line will continue.”

“I did, and it will continue—maybe even better than it was before.”

“And you promised me that my daughter dies.”

“And she will die.” My mother visibly relaxes, until Agent Crow adds, “Eventually.”

Othala stiffens and turns her chin in his direction. “What do you mean? How long do you plan to keep her?”

Agent Crow shrugs. “Well, if I kill her now, I can’t study her the way I’d like to, or fulfill my other promise.”