Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(83)
It’s almost midnight by the time I’m released from The Virtue’s presence. I’m shown to my new quarters by a member of his staff. My new suite befits my stature as firstborn. Decadently appointed in shades of gold, it’s excessive to the point of gaudiness. My footsteps echo against the high ceiling in the drawing room. Projections of the cosmos play upon its lofty heights, but I can change the image to whatever I want, from storm clouds to a sun-filled sky.
One arching glass wall affords a view of the sea. Dismissing my new secondborn staff, I walk to the window, staring at the moon shining on the water.
“How are you?” Reykin asks from behind me.
Startled, my pulse speeds up. I want it to be because I wasn’t expecting him, but my heart thumps more from a combination of his deep voice and his extremely handsome appearance in tailored dinner attire. “I didn’t know you were here.”
He comes closer. “Quincy’s here, too—sleeping in one of your unoccupied bedrooms with Rogue. I’ve been keeping an eye on her. She’s taking the events of today very hard.”
“I think she loved Balmora. As for how I’m doing, the answer is I don’t know,” I reply truthfully. My emotional self-awareness shut down hours ago. Now I’m simply numb. “Where’s Dune?”
“Strategy meeting with his brothers.” My eyes flare with alarm. I look around at the opulent furnishings, any number of which could be spying devices. “Don’t worry,” he reassures me, “I’ve secured the room. No one will overhear us.”
“Where’s Phoenix?” I ask.
“You want me to get your mechadome?”
“Of course,” I reply. “It’s part of my . . .” I was going to say “family,” but I don’t want to sound crazy. “Why are you here?” I ask instead. His eyebrows rise. I sigh and rub my forehead. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised they let you in here. Did you sneak in?”
“I didn’t have to sneak. You’re firstborn now. You can do whatever you want. Entertain whomever you’d like, whenever you’d like. But I am here on official Halo Palace business.”
“Oh?”
“The Virtue and the other Clarities are planning to present you to the world as the heir to the Fate of Swords tomorrow night at the Secondborn Trials Opening Ceremonies.”
“Why would they do that? It’s too soon! My brother just died!”
“In everyone’s eyes, Roselle, you’re still secondborn, and that’s a problem. The Virtue and the aligned heads of the Fates need to change your narrative, and quickly, if you’re to overcome your mother’s perceived authority as The Sword. They’re out of time, so it’s going to happen now.”
“What are they expecting me to do?”
“They want a new opportunity to showcase your mastery in the realm of warfare. It’s something your mother doesn’t have, and you excel at it. Grisholm suggested to his father that you and I give a display of your skill at the ceremony tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry. What?” I rub my forehead.
“They want us to mock duel.” He says it softly, like I might explode if he’s too loud.
I shake my head in disbelief. “They want us to fight each other?”
“Mock duel, like we always do. An exhibition with fusionblades, to show your skill.”
“And you agreed to this?” I teeter between amazement and derision. “Fighting with a sword is not the same as ‘mastery in the realm of warfare.’”
“I agreed to be your sparring partner because I’m not going to allow someone else near you with a sword,” Reykin insists. “Especially not a Sword soldier.”
“You know how insane this is, right? There should be a period of mourning for Gabriel.”
He frowns. “Like I said, there’s no time for that. Listen, I know you’re grieving. I know you wanted things to be different with your brother.”
“And I know you got exactly what you wanted,” I reply with a total lack of emotion. I have no energy left.
“I did,” he admits, “but I am sorry that it hurts you.”
“I can’t talk about this right now, Reykin. I just need a moment of peace. Is that too much to ask?”
“No,” he replies with an air of contrition. “It’s not too much to ask.”
“Good night.” I turn and walk to my bedroom. Closing the door, I lie on the bed and cover my face with a pillow so no one will hear my sobbing.
No matter what I say or do, I won’t be able to avoid attending the Secondborn Trials.
The realization gives me no small amount of anxiety. I walk the open-air corridor of the rooftop cloister, listening to Clifton Salloway give our supreme leader a status report regarding the security measures he’s directly overseeing. The picturesque cloister, built atop the floating Halo, shades us from the bright sunlight. The pace Bowie sets is brisk. He walks beneath the barrel-vaulted ceiling at such a clip that the other members of Fabian’s Council of Destiny fall behind, holding their sides as we make another lap.
The Virtue’s advisory council members are mostly Virtues. I assume that their duties usually don’t require much exercise, because only Clifton and I aren’t winded. I shouldn’t judge them too harshly. A few of the women are over a hundred and fifty years old, not that one could tell by looking. They have excellent Atom technicians who keep them appearing middle-aged or, in some cases, younger.