Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(10)

“—and you need to start acting like the head of this family,” his mother finished.

The words made him pause. Feel nauseous. “Forgive me, what?”

“It’s only natural when the new Emperor takes the crown that he abdicates all family ties, and as the Goddess must have foreseen,” she said with an air of bitterness, “I have a second son.”

Robb bit the inside of his cheek before he could say anything he regretted. He wasn’t like his brother. At nineteen, Erik Valerio was dashing, popular, and conniving in a way that granted him whatever he wanted. He looked like their mother—tall and olive skinned, a sharp face, with straight dark hair and a smile that made you want to trust him. He was made to lead.

And as the second son, Robb never thought he would amount to much. He looked the most like their father, broad shouldered and stocky, with hair that curled like the lies that fell from his tongue.

Goddess save him, the head of the Valerio family?

That was his father’s position. His father’s title. Not his.

“Right, of course. Naturally.” He turned to flag down a waiter for a glass of champagne. “The rose blend,” he began—and paused.

The waiter wore a black collar around his neck. A voxcollar. Robb tried to keep his face placid, even though the sight of one of those horrible things made his blood boil. His grandfather had created them to control the prisoners on Cerces, but taking away one’s voice was a punishment no one should endure.

“Oh yes, I’ve been wanting to try that one—make it two,” added his mother, and the waiter bowed and left. Then she frowned. “I would much prefer Messiers at our next engagement. They do not gossip. I’m sure Lord Rasovant would let us borrow a few.”

“Is that why we’re using voxcollars on our employees?” he asked, keeping his voice level. To keep them from gossiping?

“Do you disagree with my choices?” his mother asked, narrowing her eyes. “Voxcollars keep my employees loyal.”

“Humans can’t be HIVE’d, Mother—”

“No but they can be quiet. As Valerios, we need to be mindful of what people say, especially once our Erik takes the throne.”

Because if word got out that the crown rusted for Erik Valerio, his legitimacy would be questioned, and instead of finding someone the crown didn’t rust for—including a citizen not of the nobility—the Ironbloods would rather choose their own. It was easier to control a kingdom that way.

But if he said as much to his mother, he wouldn’t have a tongue.

“And once he does take the throne,” she went on, “I will see to it that the Academy will forgive your prior misdeeds and welcome you back. I cannot have an uneducated son running my family.”

Prior misdeeds, as if his failures were simply part of a laundry list to be expunged, like every other smear on the family.

He pushed himself off the railing. “Excuse me, Mother, I think I hear my name being—”

She took his right wrist and pressed into the thin flesh to grind the tracking chip into the bone.

He sucked in a painful breath.

“I know you are still searching for him, Robbert,” she said, her eyes more steel than blue, marbles behind kohl lashes. “You will put an end to these heedless fantasies. Your father is dead, and we have a legacy to pursue. Toriean el agh Lothorne”—their family’s motto, carved into every crest and every insignia with their name—“Glory in the Pursuit. Understand that. Be the man your father couldn’t, or you will ruin us all.”

She pressed for a moment longer, grinding, grinding, thumb digging into his skin, before she released him.

He drew his arm away quickly, rubbing the tender flesh. He couldn’t meet her icy eyes. The tracking chip had been a precaution years ago, implanted permanently into both of her sons so she’d never lose her family again.

At least that was what she’d told them.

He could run, slip through the asteroid belt surrounding their kingdom, and disappear to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, but he could never escape her.

“Yes, Mother,” he replied as the waiter came back with their drinks. He pushed the glass of champagne away apologetically, trying not to stare at the voxcollar. “Can we pick this up later? Mother, it was a pleasant chat. We must do it again soon.”

He managed to control his gait as he left, careful not to let his anger dig into him until he was out of her sight. If she thought he would stop searching for his father now that he had a lead, she was sorely mistaken.

He was about to take the stairwell hidden behind a curtain of honeysuckle vines when his brother’s voice drifted up from the roses. “What do we have here? A rodent in the bushes?”

Robb’s feet slowed to a stop.

“Haven’t seen you around before. I think I would’ve noticed someone like you,” his brother went on—and one of his lackeys laughed. “And she doesn’t have a voxcollar! You really aren’t supposed to be here, are you? Trying to sneak in to get a better look at your new Emperor? Go on, take a good look.”

Now he understood why his mother had wanted the waitstaff voxcollared.

“Let go of me, asshole!”

He froze. He knew that voice—the outlaw from the shrine. The one with the rogue Metal. She had followed him here? How could Rasovant’s ship mean that much to a criminal? When caught, she’ll be arrested—at the very least for trespassing.