Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(9)

This time I don’t follow him. Shame over my weakness today makes my cheeks burn. I should be able to control my fear without using chets. Putting my hands on my knees, I take a few deep breaths to try to calm my heart, which bludgeons my sternum. Slowly, with Reykin gone, my anxiety subsides. I straighten, find my way back inside, and alert the first guard I find to the horrific homicide that took place in my room.

I surrender the fusionmag. Two Iono guards conduct me to the underground security level of the Halo Palace. The subterranean interrogation room, devoid of everything except a metallic table bolted to the floor and a few stiff chairs, is as sterile as it is spare. Bright lights shine down from the ceiling, heightening my fear of exposure as a spy. The two guards, both women, listen with skeptical expressions as I report the murder attempt on my life. After asking me very few questions, they leave to investigate. The door closes behind them. I test the door. It’s locked. I’m confined to the room. I return to the metal chair and sit. It’s cool down here. I notice I neglected to put on shoes during the chaos. My feet are grass-stained. Alone in a small interrogation room, I stare at my dirty toes.



Hours later, I’m virtually in the same position, seated at the small table, when the door opens and an Exo officer enters. She’s probably in her early thirties, fit, with a firstborn sword moniker shining golden from the back of her left hand.

“Roselle St. Sismode,” she says, pulling out a metal chair across from me and taking a seat.

“It’s Roselle Sword,” I reply.

“How about just Roselle?” she asks with a small smile. “I’m Vaughna Jenns. I’m in charge of this investigation.” She sets a metallic mug of what smells like coffee on the table in front of her and pushes it in my direction. “Thirsty?”

I am, but she’s a Sword. She could be working for my mother and brother. “No. Thank you.” I give her a polite smile.

“I can take a sip of it first, if you’re worried.” She leans back in her chair.

I pretend I don’t know what she means. “Did you locate the man that dove into the sea?”

“We recovered two bodies from your apartment, but as for a third, that one seems to have gotten away.”

I cross my arms, wishing I’d followed the killer off the cliff. Not knowing for sure if my brother ordered the strike stirs intense fear within me. If it wasn’t by Gabriel’s order, then I have more to worry about than the power struggle with family. I’ve committed treason for the Gates of Dawn. I’ve made an enemy of Grisholm by usurping Malcolm Burton’s position in the Halo Palace. I’ve done things in the name of my Fate as a secondborn soldier that could lead to retribution. I’m also a high-profile figure in the Salloway Munitions Conglomerate—it’s face. “What Fate were they from?”

“We don’t know. Their monikers were removed.”

“Let me see the bodies. Maybe I’ll recognize them without their masks.” She complies, using her moniker’s holographic screens to show me the bodies in my apartment. They’re both young—my age or younger. I don’t recognize either man and exhale in frustration. “They’re not familiar.”

Firstborn Jenns extinguishes the images. “Can you think of a reason why someone would want to kill you?” she asks with a straight face.

“We’re at war. I’m a Sword.”

“You’re in the Halo Palace. The Virtue—or his heir—would make for a better target than you.”

“Find the third assassin, and we’ll have our answers,” I reply.

She purses her lips. Perhaps she expects some kind of theory from me? She must know that if I were to accuse my mother or brother of plotting my death, I could be convicted of treason. I’m secondborn. I don’t have the right to make any unsubstantiated claims or statements against firstborns—especially not The Sword.

She sighs. Lifting her left hand, she touches the light of her golden holographic sword. The moniker opens a holographic screen, and she retrieves the statement I gave to the Iono officers hours before. “So, this is your story. Three men entered your apartment to murder you. You killed two of them—”

“No, the first was shot by the second. The second I stabbed in the neck with the first’s knife.”

“Quite right. And the third, you . . .”

“Shot in the shoulder.”

“Where did you get the weapon?”

“The second assassin dropped it when I stabbed him.”

“With the first one’s knife?” she asks. I nod. “And you were able to shoot the third . . .”

“In the shoulder,” we say in unison.

“That’s quite a feat,” Firstborn Jenns says. “Three against one, and you were unharmed except for a small cut on your neck?”

“My mechadome helped.”

She snorts skeptically. The door behind her opens. Dune enters, making the small room feel tiny. Firstborn Jenns jumps to her feet, nearly spilling the coffee. “Commander Kodaline.”

“Firstborn.” Dune acknowledges her with a slight nod. “The questioning is finished for this evening. If you have anything more, you’ll submit it to me.” He turns to me. I don’t move. Fear and devotion hover just behind my serene mask.

“Yes. Of course,” Firstborn Jenns acquiesces. She’s clearly intimidated, but if I had to guess, it’s more by his presence—the raw power in him—than by his position.