Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(44)

“Hawthorne would never do that.”

“Desperate people do desperate things,” Reykin replies.

“He’s alive because of you,” I murmur. Reykin’s eyes narrow. “I know it was you who saved him. You erased every trace of our escape from the Sword Palace that night.”

“I did that for you, not for him.”

“That was dangerous. It could’ve alerted them to the fact we’d infiltrated their systems.”

“They’ll never find anything.”

“Do you think my family are the ones behind the attack last night?”

“Yes.”

“Is there evidence in any of their communications? Something we can use?”

Reykin frowns. “I don’t know. I need to dig in and search for it, and that will take a while, but I know a few things. It wasn’t Gates of Dawn who attacked last night, and I’d rule out the Rose Garden Society, seeing as how quite a few of them are dead now. They wouldn’t shoot up their social club. Media outlets have already been calling it the ‘Rose Goddess Massacre.’”

“Why ‘Rose Goddess’? Why not ‘Rose Garden’?”

“They’ve been interviewing survivors all evening. The accounts of you defending Sword-Fated firstborns is becoming legendary. Complete idiots who attended other balls, like the one Grisholm and I were at last evening, are actually upset that they weren’t at your party to see the Goddess of War smote the Gates of Dawn.” I give him a side-eyed look. He stares at me derisively. “You didn’t think The Virtue would call out your mother, did you? The Gates of Dawn are a good scapegoat. It makes the continued conflict more palatable and you more of a heroine. The Virtue is biding his time. This attack binds Salloway closer to him. Their common enemy is proving to be a many-headed dragon.”

I gaze out the window at the landscape flying by. Large tracts of land stretch as far as I can see. It’s so green, the kind of green that you never see in the city. Horses startle and run from our low-flying airship.

I watch for a long time. Reykin communicates with Dune, letting my ex-mentor know that he found me. When the messaging between them ends, the silence grows.

“I want to see my father,” I murmur.

Reykin’s face changes. He loses some of his anger. The struggle in his eyes is real. “Roselle . . . I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it. Your father was murdered last night.”

“I know. I saw him. I killed his murderers.” I think the shock of what happened last night is finally wearing off. My hands are trembling, and my throat aches with emotion I refuse to show. “He wanted to be buried in Virtues—beside his parents. He told me that. He said, ‘Don’t let them entomb me in that Sword whorehouse.’ We were at my grandfather’s funeral. He was drunk, of course, but he made me swear not to let his body rot in the Sword Mausoleum.”

“He was the Fated Sword. Your mother is expected to hold his body in state and inter him in that shrine.”

I grit my teeth. “He didn’t want to be there. It’s insanity to give his body to his murderers. Do you know what they did to him?”

“No.”

“They cut out his tongue. They literally made him hold his tongue.”

“You can’t stop what they’ll do with his body. You won’t even be allowed at his funeral.”

He’s right. Transitioned secondborns are rarely allowed to attend the funeral of a parent. In Swords, it’s usually because we die before our parents. But if that doesn’t happen, the surviving secondborn isn’t welcome at the funeral because it makes the rest of the family uncomfortable, and maybe a little afraid for the firstborn. “This is an insane world, Reykin.”

“I know.”

“I still need to see him. I need to say good-bye.”

“Your father was a cruel man.”

“Still.”

Reykin sighs. “I’ll see what I can do to find out where his body is.”

We fly in silence to the gorgeous city of Purity, though I hardly see any of it because I’m lost in thought. “Reykin?”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you a question . . . about your family?” I glance at him. He nods. “After Census murdered them, did they allow you to bury them?”

He stiffens. “No,” he replies softly. “My mother and brother were dragged through the streets of our town, and then left in the square to rot. I wasn’t allowed to move them. My father was killed trying to defend them. They set his body on fire.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, holding back tears. I can’t cry. Not now.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s actually normal. After a battle, one or two fights between Sword soldiers usually break out. Someone will accuse someone else of being reckless or thoughtless. They’ll usually brawl. It’s a reaction to fear. Fear turns to anger, and they need to put it somewhere, or they’ll turn it inward. It’s probably healthier to vent it. You were afraid I was dead. When you found out I wasn’t, your fear turned to anger. You know what that means, right?”

“No,” Reykin replies.

“It means you care about me.”