Sevro kicks Tactus in the balls from behind, foot going between legs hard enough to dent metal. He elbows him in the side of the head, sweeps his legs in swift kravat form. Three more strikes to the ears before Tactus hits the ground. Sevro puts one knee into Tactus’s shoulder wound, a forearm against Tactus’s throat, the other knee to Tactus’s groin, and his free hand dangles a knife over Tactus’s eyeball. “Talk about Quinn again, and I’ll cut your balls off and jam them in your eye sockets.”

“Brother always said … keep your eye … on the ball,” Tactus gags out.

The metal cabin door hisses open. Augustus fills the frame. He stares down at the scene just as Victra brings Lysander forward from the aft of the ship.

“They’re almost done, my liege,” I say. I step over Tactus and Sevro to join the ArchGovernor in the cabin. Victra does the same, except she steps on Tactus, grinding her heels.

“Prime work,” she says to Sevro.

“Slag off, cow.”

“Who is the little one?” she asks me as we slip into the cabin and close the door.

I tell her.

“The Rage Knight’s son? Nasty little man. I don’t think he likes me.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

The cockpit is larger than my room in the Citadel’s villa. An array of lights ring the pilot and co-pilot chairs. Mustang sits to the left, a Blue pilot to the right. The Blue is jacked into the ship. A blue light glows under the dermis of her left temple. Mustang flies, right hand in a holographic control prism, speaking quickly with the Blue. Out the curved viewport, Earth hovers. Augustus, Pliny, and comically stooped Kavax au Telemanus discuss our options behind Mustang.

It is quiet.

“Well done, Darrow,” Augustus says without looking back to me. “Though you could have chosen a better ship …”

Mustang interrupts. “What’s going on back there? They said someone was hurt.”

“Quinn is dying,” I say. “We have to get her to a medBay, fastlike.”

“Even when we hit orbit, we’re thirty minutes out from our fleet,” Mustang says.

“Fly faster.”

The ship trembles as Mustang and the Blue push it hard.

“It was a good plan,” Kavax says, beaming down at Mustang. “It was a good plan, Virginia, infiltrating the Sovereign’s household. Just like when you were a girl. The time you and Pax hid in the shrubbery to listen to your father’s counsel. Except Pax was bigger than the shrub!” He booms a laugh that startles the quiet Blue.

Mustang reaches back to squeeze his forearm, hand smaller than his elbow. He preens like a hound with a pheasant in its jaws, looking around to see if we all noticed her compliment. She’s got a way with men bigger than bears.

The love on the man’s face makes Augustus’s own disinterest monstrous. And even worse, thinking about the Jackal killing this man’s son makes me sick.

Mustang spares me the slightest glance, her hair bound behind her head, the memory of a smile still creasing the corners of her lips, and it’s like I’ve been punched in the heart. There’s no smile for me. And the horse ring no longer graces her finger.

There’s silence for a long moment. Augustus turns to look at me. “I assume Octavia attempted to bring you into her fold as well?”

“She attempted.”

“Slag herself. Bet you told her to go slag herself, eh, boy?” Kavax booms. He slaps my shoulder, knocking me into Victra. “Sorry.” He’s bent like a hothouse tree grown too tall for its roof. Water drips from his red forked beard. “Sorry,” he repeats to Victra.

“Actually, Lord Telemanus, I thought her offer tempting. She manages to treat her lancers with respect. Unlike others.”

Augustus wastes no time with banter. “We’ll amend that. I owe you a debt, Darrow. Provided we make it to my fleet.”

“You owe it to Mustang and the Howlers as much as me,” I say.

“What is a Howler?” he asks.

“My friends in the black armor. Sevro’s the leader.”

“Sevro. That wretched little thing that was atop my lancer, yes?” The ArchGovernor raises an eyebrow. “Thought I recognized him. Fitchner’s boy.” His tone sits poorly with me. “The one that killed that Priam brat in the Passage.”

“He’s with us, my liege. Loyal as my own hands.”

The door hisses open and Sevro and Tactus join us. We all turn to look. Sevro recoils slightly. “What?” he challenges.

Tactus scoots off to the side, away from Sevro.

“Does your loyalty lie with me or with your father, Sevro?” Augustus asks.

“What father? I’m a bastard’s bastard.” Sevro looks the ArchGovernor up and down skeptically. “And all due respect, my liege, I could give a cat’s frozen piss about you too. Your daughter brought me from the Rim. My allegiance is to her. But above all it’s to Reaper. That’s it.”

“Mind your manners, you little puppy,” Kavax growls.

“You must be Pax’s father. Sorry he went. He’s a man I might have died for. But I see he got his good looks from his mother.”

Kavax isn’t sure if he’s been insulted.

Augustus observes this. “Darrow, I owe you an apology. You were right. Loyalty, it seems, can extend beyond the Institute. Now … Lysander.” Augustus glances out the shuttle’s viewports. We rise steadily. He kneels to speak with the boy. “I’ve heard tell that you are an exceptional lad.”

“I am, my liege,” Lysander says as firmly as he can. “They test me regularly, and I train in all manners of studies. I rarely lose in chess. And when I do, I learn, as I ought.”

“Do you now? I had a son like you, once, Lysander. But I’m sure you knew that.”

“Adrius au Augustus,” Lysander says, knowing the lineage.

“No.” Augustus shakes his head. “No. My younger son isn’t like you at all.”

The boy frowns. “Then the elder. Claudius au Augustus?”

Mustang glances back.

“Yes.” Augustus nods. “A kind, special boy with a lion’s heart. Better than me. Kinder. A ruler.” He spares a strange, meaningful glance at me. “You would have been friends.”

Lysander tries to look dignified. “What happened to him?”

“They left that part out, eh? Well, a large young man from the House Bellona by the name of Karnus took liberties with a certain young woman my son was courting. My son took umbrage and challenged Karnus to a duel. In the end, when my boy was broken and bleeding, Karnus kneeled, cupped my son’s head”—he puts one hand around Lysander’s head—“and smashed it on the cobbled stones till it broke open and all his specialness dripped out.” He pats the boy on the cheek. “Let’s hope you never have to see such a thing.”

“Is that your plan for me, my liege?” Lysander asks bravely.

“I’m only a monster when it is practical.” Augustus smiles. “I don’t think I will have to be this time. You see, we’re just trying to get home. So long as your grandmother permits our passage, then you will be safe.”

“Grandmother says you’re a liar.”

“Ironic. You will tell her we’ve treated you well, I hope.”

“If I am well treated.”

“Fair enough.” Augustus touches the boy’s shoulder and stands. “Victra. Take him to the passenger hold.”

Victra glowers. Of course Augustus chooses the only woman but Mustang. Tactus notices her reaction and steps forward. “Might I, my liege? I’ve not seen my own brothers in some time. I wouldn’t mind talking with the lad.” Augustus nods as if to say he doesn’t care. Victra thanks Tactus, surprised by his gesture. He winks at her, punches my shoulder, and pats Lysander roughly on the head, almost knocking him down. I’d hate to know his brothers.

“Come, tiny one. Tell me, have you ever been to a Pearl club?” he asks, leading him away. “The girls and boys there are spectacular.…”

The ponderous stork climbs higher and higher. In two minutes, we’ll hit the edge of the atmosphere.

“They tried to kill me as I slept,” Augustus murmurs. “She knows I will not forgive this.”

“She’ll come to Mars,” I say.

“Is there no chance for amends to be made?” Pliny asks.