Secondborn (Secondborn #1)(99)

“Anything you need,” Crucius replies, surprising me again.

“And can you tell Clifton I’m here?”

“He knows. He’s leaving headquarters now. You should know he’s bringing someone with him.”

“Who?”

“The Virtue.”

“Clarity Bowie?” Suddenly, I wish I were still hidden inside Tyburn Fountain.



A team of uniformed soldiers patrols the rooftop. They’re not Clifton’s security, but the Iono soldiers who protect the Clarity of Virtues. A Verringer hovers near the rooftop, a halo-shaped crest of the Clarity of the Fate of Virtues on its side. I glance at Hawthorne. He’s nervous.

The Verringer anchors to the railing alongside the building, blocking the view of the sea. A railed gangway ramp extends to the rooftop terrace, and Clifton emerges from the open doorway, followed by Fabian Bowie. They walk together toward the poolside entrance.

I only have a moment or two to panic before an Iono soldier opens the door. Clarity Bowie and Clifton walk up the stairs and into the apartment. I try not to fidget. Clarity Bowie has seen me looking worse, in my Census criminal attire. At least this time I’m in a dress, even if it’s filthy.

“Roselle.” Clifton says my name with a mixture of relief and concern. “Did they hurt you?”

“No one hurt me. I left the Sword Palace because Hawthorne told me what my family was planning for me this evening. He helped me get back here.”

“Firstborn Trugrave,” Clifton says with a curl of his lip, clearly not sure whether Hawthorne is truly friend or foe. “Thank you for returning our soldier to us. She means a great deal to my organization and to the war effort. I am in your debt.”

Clarity Bowie strikes me as being even more powerful in person. He’s dressed in a crisp uniform denoting his status as the leader of the Fates of the Republic, with a white cape styled much like an Exo uniform. “Clarity Bowie,” I say with a deep nod, and then a smile. “I would offer you a seat, but I remember from my youth that you prefer to stand.”

“I remember you as well. You beat my son’s head in with a clock.”

“He should’ve been quicker on his feet.”

The roguish smile that passes over his lips fills me with relief. “Grisholm could use someone like you,” he says, “someone who’s willing to bash him in the head when he steps out of line. I think everyone else is afraid to stand up to him. He’ll be the Clarity someday, and he’ll need a strong Clarity of Swords.”

“I’m sure that Gabriel will be able to assist him in that regard.”

“Walk with me.” Clarity Bowie extends his hand. I move forward and take it. He tucks my arm in his and we stroll toward the rooftop outside. We take the stairs down and wander past the pool surrounded by armed guards.

When we’re out of earshot, he continues. “I look at you, Roselle, and I see your struggle tonight written in the cuts on your feet, the scratches on your face, the rends in your gown, the weariness in your smile. And yet, you still have a rigid command of everything and everyone around you. You handle a crisis as if it’s an everyday occurrence.”

“Forgive me, but in my world, crisis is an everyday occurrence.”

“I intend to change that for you.”

“How can you do that?” I ask.

“By offering you my protection. By taking you away from the Fate of Swords and allowing you a place in my household for a time.”

“I have a position here. I am a weapons consultant for—”

“Yes, and Clifton is adamant about not giving you up. You’ll still be allowed to work with him. He’ll come and visit you in my household when he requires your consultation.”

We approach the ramp leading into the Verringer. I glance over my shoulder at my penthouse. Neither Clifton nor Hawthorne has followed us, but they’re both watching us through the glass. “I’m going with you tonight, aren’t I?”

“Right now, as a matter of fact,” he admits, ushering me onto the ramp.

“Can I say good-bye?”

“You can see them both soon. They’ll be invited to the Opening Celebrations of the Secondborn Trials—to our private party, Roselle. You will be, after all, our celebrity guest of honor at the event.” We enter the Verringer. The door behind us closes. Clarity Bowie offers me a seat by a window. “You can rest after your trying evening. We’ll be in Virtues in no time. Your room is waiting for you, and someone there is very excited to greet you.”

I gaze out the window at Clifton’s and Hawthorne’s grim visages. The Verringer purrs softly and rises into the air. “Who is waiting for me?” I ask absently.

“Your mentor. Dune.”

I gape at him. Then I notice a shiny pin on his lapel. “Are you a gardener, Clarity Bowie?” I gesture to the pin.

“I’ve become very interested in the flower’s beauty and incomparable essence.”

“Roses come with sharp thorns,” I reply.

“I’m counting on them.”





Glossary

air-barracks. Kidney-shaped dormitory airships that dock on the military Trees in Bases like the Stone Forest. They transport troops and house them.

air-billiards. A game played on a multilevel billiards table with an airstick—a cross between pool and air hockey.