Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(80)
“Gabriel has always been kind and gentle, a man who hated being the heir to the cruelest Fate of the Republic. Unlike you, Father, he never thought my being secondborn was a curse, or that it made me inferior. He loved me despite my birth order. We were going to change the world together, he and I, but now it’s too late. He’s dead, and I’ll be joining him soon. So I won’t waste much more of your time with my insignificant prattle. I know how you hate that.
“Gabriel made me promise I’d give you a message from him. He said his mother is set to bring a wave of war and terror to your shores, the likes of which you’ve never seen. He said there was no way for him to stop her. He believed that only his sister is cunning and strong enough to do that. So he’s stepping aside as the heir to the Fate of Swords. He took his own life so that Roselle could take his place.” Bitterness shows on her face. She swallows hard. “Personally,” she growls through gritted teeth, “whatever monsters Othala is bringing, I hope they destroy you and your entire dynasty. Good-bye, Father. May your death be long and painful.”
The hologram projection blinks out. The Virtue’s mouth is unhinged, resembling the severed head from the bronze statue in the Trial Village, locked in its last moment of horror.
“She’s mad,” he whispers. The Virtue clears his throat. “If Othala wants a war with me, she’ll get a war.” He points at me. “I’ll see that you become The Sword, Roselle. You’ll lead the Fate of Swords. Secondborn soldiers will follow you, not your mother! After all, you were one of them!” To the two trembling assistants, he barks, “Assemble all the Clarities of the Fates Republic, except for Swords. I want a meeting today! Roselle shall have a private suite in Upper Halo. I need her close to me at all times. Move!” The assistants scatter.
I’m herded out of Dune’s apartment. Quincy and Rogue get diverted by a pair of The Virtue’s assistants. Before they go, the assistants assure me that they’ll take Quincy to my new apartment to await me.
Dune and Reykin flank me as we pass through security and into corridors I haven’t seen before. The hallways don’t make sense at first. The outside of the hovering structure appears to be hollow, but to my complete amazement, it isn’t. The architecture is circular, but it’s solid throughout, with surfaces that give the illusion of sky.
Arriving at The Virtue’s command post in the center of the Halo, I realize that Upper Halo is a massive airship. I can’t imagine what it’s like flying a building, but I’m certain that my Class Seven pilot’s license doesn’t cover it.
Inside the war room, The Virtue argues with Dune over strategy for the meeting he intends to hold with the other Clarities. Eventually he informs the other Clarities that my brother has taken his own life and that I have elevated to firstborn status. Holographic images of the Clarities extend jovial congratulations. Through all of it, I nod in acknowledgment but say nothing.
All the Clarities, except for my mother, have been apprised of my brother’s death. I steel myself for the virtual meeting with Othala, but nothing could have prepared me for her appearance when her holographic image alights in front of us. Seated behind her glass desk in her Sword Palace office, she slouches in her seat with a cocktail in reach. Her red-rimmed eyes stand out in the light of the holographic image. She looks as if she hasn’t changed her clothes in days. Her hair is limp and oily. Deep lines of grief carve the sides of her mouth and line her forehead. Her sorrow causes my heart to bleed anew. I have come to despise my mother, but something inside of me is still crushed by her sorrow.
“Return my son to me and I won’t torture you, Fabian,” she says, her voice deep and raspy, her words slurred. “Do it now and I’ll give you a quick death.” She lifts the fat tumbler to her lips, drinking a large gulp.
“You’re in no position to—”
“I’m not finished, you blubbering man-child!” my mother screeches. She lurches to her feet. “Send me my son’s murderer, Roselle, so I can eviscerate her myself. Then, and only then, will I not pluck out your eyes and feed them to my maginots!”
“You’ve gone insane! How dare you speak to me—”
“I dare, you pompous ass! You won’t last a day against me now.”
Fabian ignores her threats. “No one had to murder Gabriel, Othala. He did it himself. The first thing he’s gotten right in his miserable life! Now we have a competent heir to Swords.”
“You’re blind and stupid, Fabian!” my mother replies. “Roselle will always be ten steps ahead of you. I’m actually doing you a favor, and you don’t even know it. Send her to me along with my son’s body.”
“I don’t think so. I need the right St. Sismode on the throne of Swords to stabilize the Fates and quell the open rebellion. With Roselle in charge, every secondborn Sword soldier will leap to do her bidding. They’d follow her off a cliff. She’s one of them. No one will lift a finger if you go against her. Your army will turn on you in an instant.”
“And she’s your best hope?” Othala laughs derisively. “You’re a fool. You’ll never be able to control her. She’ll run circles around you, and you won’t even know it. Won’t you, Roselle? Just like you did by aligning with the Rose Gardeners right under our noses. You had one job. All you had to do was die. If you had, Gabriel would be alive. This is all your fault.”