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“Lysander? I see you seized the moment. I had no doubt you would. Octavia would be proud.” His voice mocks me.
“Where’s our evac?” I snap. “We have inbound enemy armor. Our shells are dead. Our mobility—”
“It doesn’t seem long ago that we were last in New Sparta, does it?”
“Ajax, we need evac, do you register?”
“I looked forward to those winters on Grandfather’s estate more than anything. Believe me when I say that. You were less serious there, away from the old crone. There was no one to impress. Not until Grandfather took us hunting and left us in the bush. He told us to race back.” His eyes narrow. “You remember. Of course you do. You remember everything.”
Kalindora’s face falls as she understands. Cicero’s face becomes a mask of utter contempt. I hold out hope that it is not what it seems.
“You remember how I begged you not to leave me behind because I sprained my ankle. Didn’t really. I was just afraid of being left alone, because you were always so sure where you were going. If it was just us, you would have helped me. But you had to win, didn’t you? You had to show them that you were worthy of being the Heir of Silenius.” His lips curl back from his teeth. “You left me behind. It took me three days to find my way back. And when I did, Grandfather wouldn’t even let me join the dinner table because I was…unwashed. You found me crying behind the stables. You’d brought me your own food and you sat with me and do you remember what you said?”
“Ajax…”
“?‘You really must learn your navigations, Ajax.’?”
“I see.” The silence between us is cold and final and mutually understood. “Is this your choice or Atalantia’s?”
“Mine. I will mourn for you, little brother, but I will not step aside. This is my time. Give Kalindora my apologies, but she chose poorly.” He pauses, no mockery in his voice. “Should the Void take you, celebrate, my brother. For before death, there was glory.”
The link drops.
I stand rooted to the spot. I thought if betrayal came, it would come from Atalantia. Not Ajax. I saw the signs, but I chose to believe in a friend. What a pity for us both. For all those memories to come to this.
Is this how Cassius felt?
“I am to die for a brotherly feud,” Cicero spits. “This is utterly…Venusian.”
Rhone speaks in a tight whisper. “My liege, we can evacuate you south via air.”
“And how many men could we take?” I ask.
“Less than a third.”
I search the Praetorians on the ground beneath as they attempt to leech energy from downed starShells. They came for me. To save my life, I would have to abandon six hundred of them.
I search for some alternative, and find only one. “I would know the names of my wingmen on the third charge.”
“Flavius ti Vessia and Charon ti Occipiter.”
I repeat the names as the sound of the enemy machines grows louder. “What would Octavia do?” I ask.
Rhone says nothing.
“She would run,” Kalindora replies with a blank expression.
“A fine idea,” Cicero says. “Let’s.”
I stare into the dust. “If that is the measure of our loyalty to our men, perhaps we deserve to die.”
Kalindora tilts her head at me.
“Are you mad?” Cicero’s narrow eyes go wide.
Rhone steps forward. “My liege, you are—”
“Not a Sovereign. Not anything really.” I grimace. “But I will not live while men sworn to me die. I know the risk they took in coming here.” Kalindora gives me a nod of surprised approval. “Rhone, prepare the Praetorians as you see fit. The enemy won’t be long.”
