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The White doesn’t believe me as I watch the slaves load into the starship. “Are you aware there is a species of bat on Mercury that begins life as mammalian larva?”
I ignore the fool and turn away to look at Fá. The odious shit reclines on his throne as braves from the city bring him women one by one to add to his harem. Sefi had more dignity in her little toenail.
Xenophon prattles on.
“In order for the larva to mature to its destined form, it must find a host to grow inside and then consume when it is ready to fly. Fá was a catalyst. But a rich, haughty city fallen from grace was the necessary chrysalis for this transformation of the Obsidians to their former selves. Where else could a tribal people be nurtured with such discontent? Olympia had every opportunity to spare itself this fate. But without a shepherd, mankind cannot help but succumb to its own greed.”
The White surveys my face.
“You are in pain. How could you of all people look down and wonder how they can do this to a city they uplifted? Fear made Olympia polite, Mr. Horn. But when they realized there was nothing to fear due to Sefi’s manners, they partook in incremental predation on the Obsidians. A Hyperionin should know: a city is a thief. Designed in every facet to part coin from purse. The only difference is it smiles when it does it. Did Olympians thank the Obsidians for ten years of frontline horror? For their generosity in pouring capital into the rebuilding of their city? No. No, they gouged them in shops, cheated them in casinos, mocked their race, and then, after all that, turned on them in an instant and chose the Republic that could not even put food in their mouths, and a hero who abandoned them for the Core. What greater insult is there? The question is not, how could they do this? It is, why did they not do it sooner?”
“Because Sefi was a decent woman.”
“No, she was remarkable, as are you. But she was crushed under the guilt of being seen as the voice of the man she admired, when really she barely knew him much at all. She let her past overrule her nature. As do you. Why?” I ignore the White until those pale hands grab my scarabSkin. “Why?”
“Because we’re something you’ll never be, shithead: human.” The reply breaks something inside the White. Xenophon turns away, wounded. I activate the power switch Pax put in the heartspike. “I want to speak to Fá.”
“Why?”
“That, dear asshole, is between me and the ogre.”
“Very well.” Taking his heart controller in hand, Xenophon brushes past me. I turn at the last second and release the heartspike into his pocket. He leads me past Fá’s guards. We wait for the man to finish picking a Pink for his harem. He waves us forward in amusement as the terrified girl is dragged away.
“Salve, Xenophon,” he says with a smile. “I see my heir’s guardian returned.” He notices the cuffs. “Not as friend, it seems. Still. He protected her from the savagery of the heatlands. It is no good for him to be on a leash.” He motions for his men to remove the cuffs.
“He is a substantially dangerous man,” Xenophon warns. “Despite his size.”
Volsung considers me. “So I have heard.” His men unshackle me.
“Cheers, oldboy,” I say to Fá with a wide smile. I rub my raw wrists and eye the weapons on the Ascomanni. I wouldn’t make it halfway through a lunge. There is no other way. It is not a great decision, not the sum of my life, as I thought of Trigg’s death. It is a small choice to simply say: Fuck you.
“Is my heir alive?”
I frown. “Didn’t you kill her?”
“I had no chance to mold Sefi. She is not my daughter. When you have so many, they matter very little. Ragnar was my first. I taught him to hunt before I was taken back to the stars. Volga will be my second. She will be like clay. I will make her in my image, so that when the time comes, she will inherit the worlds.”
“Pity she sunk to the bottom of the sea then,” I reply. “Sloppy work, that. Should have hired me. I’m the tits, didn’t you hear?”
“Bottom of the sea, you say?” He comes down from his throne and sniffs me like a dog. “Then you must be a nøkken. For I smell her upon you.” He runs a nail along the scarabSkin, leaving flakes of Sefi’s blood. “She dressed you in this very armor.” His whiskers scratch my chin. “She kissed you upon the cheek.” He draws back and looks at Xenophon, lowering his voice. “Does our master still wish to tame this dog?”
“He would prove an asset. But his nature makes it decidedly unlikely, regardless the collar. The master trusts my discretion.”
His nature. I chuckle. Validation after all.
“He is not worthy for me. Xenophon, kill him without marks. We will make it look as if his heart gave in to his depredations. When Volga comes for him, she will weep, but not hate.” He cups his hand. “And she will be like clay.” He gives me a mocking smile. “Thank you for your service, Gray.”
He climbs back on his throne to continue filling his harem as Xenophon readies the controller for my heart. Fá’s beasts grip my shoulders to drag me away. “Well, aren’t you a cockless little yeti,” I say to Fá. His big head turns toward me. “At least have the testicular fortitude to look me in the eye as I die.”
Volsung grants me that honor. His men back away as Xenophon thumbs the control and activates the kill switch. I glance over at the White. Xenophon frowns when I don’t fall to the ground from heart failure. “Hey, milky. You like riddles. What do you call a piece of shit with a bomb in his pocket?” I unzip the front of my scarabSkin to show the scar Electra left. “Oops.”
Xenophon frowns and looks down a sleeve. “Oh…” Xenophon disintegrates as the signal to the heartspike in his pocket activates the explosives Pax wrapped around it. The heat hits me before the roar.
The world turns over as I’m thrown like a rag doll.
I can hear nothing. My whole body is cold. My right eye sees washed-out images. My left eye nothing. Half-melted men stumble around me, screaming soundlessly. Smoke twirls up into the blue sky. My spine is broken. My legs do not work. My right arm gone. I am cold but afraid. But not as afraid as the first day at the ludus.
The most afraid I have been in all my life was seeing those cold halls and colder boys and lying down to bunk. I don’t have to go back there ever again. I feel the metal of Trigg’s ring on my finger. The warmth of warm water. The sound of it lapping against a raft. Soon it will be the starry sky. And we will lie beside each other forever. Fá is dead. Volga is safe. Good luck, Snowball.
