Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(82)

“How are you?” Hawthorne asks, taking a seat. I sit in a chair next to his. He doesn’t take my hand—doesn’t touch me.

“I don’t know.” I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “Numb, I guess. Scared. Confused. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I’d hoped that Gabriel would somehow come through his addiction. You warned me that he wouldn’t. I should’ve listened to you.”

“What can I do to help you with your changeover to firstborn?” he asks. “I have some experience with it. It takes a while to get used to it.” His eyes soften. They have a silver tint to them in this light.

“I don’t plan on getting used to it, Hawthorne, but you know that.”

He looks around. It’s possible that we’re being monitored, and he knows it. “I’m in, you know,” he whispers, “for everything.”

My eyebrows rise in surprise. “Everything?”

“Whatever you want, Roselle. I’ll fight for it—for you.” He reaches out and covers my hand with his. He squeezes, and I grind my teeth so I don’t sob.

“I need you to put together a list of candidates for Heritage Council positions and a list of who currently fills them,” I tell him. “I don’t care about rank and privilege. I want smart people, not entitled ones. I want inter-Fate advisors, not just Swords. To start with, I want you to focus on finding the most innovative Stars and Atoms. I’m looking for forensic investigators not affiliated with Census. And I need a list of all Census holdings, maps of bases, lists of personnel, budget reports. I want to know where Census allocates its assets.” He frowns and begins to take notes on his moniker. I stop him with a hand on his sleeve. “We can’t use monikers to communicate or to do research. I need you to devise another form of communication. Census is inside most of our systems.”

“What other form of communication?” he asks, grinning. “Carrier pigeons?”

I sigh. “Write it down if you have to, but burn it when you’re done. We no longer use monikers for anything. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Hawthorne replies.

“Before Gabriel died, he warned me about my mother,” I continue. “He said something . . . he said, ‘Too many zeros.’ Do you have any idea what that could mean?”

“Zeros?” Hawthorne holds his hand to his forehead. “I heard him say something like it before, but only in drug-induced ramblings about freedom and freewill. None of what he said before I left made any sense.”

“What about Census?” I ask.

Hawthorne drops his hand. “I haven’t been back to Swords. Your mother wants me dead. Reports from my friends tell me Census is everywhere in Swords now, like they own the place.”

“I think they do, Hawthorne. I think they’re Othala’s allies.” I lean forward and put my elbows on my knees, holding my chin in my hands. I stare at his eyes. They’re cloudy. He must be as tired as I am.

“What do you plan to do about that?” Hawthorne asks. He’s as close as he can be without touching me.

“I don’t know yet.” I scrub my face with my hands, trying to think. “Census is entrenched everywhere that secondborn Swords are. They’re the roots of every Tree on every Base. They control our monikers—they have access to our communications. They have a stranglehold on every Fate, not just Swords. The advantage is theirs. We have to take out their leaders.”

“We don’t know who they are,” Hawthorne says. “Census acts like every one of them is a leader.”

“Census has leaders,” I insist, “or you never would’ve gotten me away from Agent Crow when I was his prisoner. He answers to someone higher up, or he would never have let me go.” There’s a faraway look in Hawthorne’s eyes, and I wonder if he’s thinking of Agnes and what Agent Crow did to her for helping me. I reach my hand out and tangle Hawthorne’s fingers in mine. “Remember when I promised you that I’d help you kill Agent Crow and avenge Agnes when the time was right?”

“Yes,” he replies.

“The time is now, Hawthorne.”





Chapter 18

Planning My Crash Landing

No funeral or memorial is planned for Balmora. The official cause of her death is ruled an accidental drowning. Her body is incinerated within hours of the pronouncement and her ashes disposed of. The coverup of my brother’s drug overdose is a much more elaborate conspiracy. The Virtue pushes it forward with the same swift efficiency and whitewash as his daughter’s death. Gabriel’s corpse is loaded into an exquisite aircraft and an accident is staged so that it looks as if a tragic malfunction occurred near his estate in Lenity. The fiery crash, with Gabriel’s body inside, is executed with the utmost care. By nightfall, it’s reported on by every Diamond-Fated media outlet the world over. When the flames die down, there’s very little left to send to Othala for burial.

The speed with which this all happens is significant. This way, there’s no chance of Othala getting Gabriel’s body back and making accusations against me or The Virtue that could be medically corroborated. The Virtue has no intention of letting me return to Swords for a memorial either. Instead, an official announcement states that, in light of the tragic circumstances surrounding my father’s memorial in Swords, a small, private ceremony will be held at the Halo Palace, which means there won’t be one.