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“Because she forgot the words, and I think it the saddest song ever sung.” I pause before my next question.
“You want to ask about Virginia again, don’t you?” The corners of her lips twitch with pleasure as she plucks my pain. “Do you want to know if I’ll give her to you if you join me? It’s possible.”
“She is not a thing to be given,” I say.
She laughs, amused at my innocence. “If you say so.”
“Where are the three Deep Space Command Centers?” I ask recklessly.
She gives me the coordinates without blinking. “How did you know the words to the Reaping Song?”
“I heard it as a boy. And I forget little.”
“Where?”
“It’s not your turn,” I remind her. “Why are you asking me these questions?”
“Because one of my Furies has led me to suspect the Sons of Ares are perhaps something different than we imagined. Something more dangerous. Who is Ares?”
My heart thunders.
“I don’t know.” I watch the Oracle’s tail. It doesn’t move. “Who you do think Ares is?”
“Your master.”
“Thirty-nine, forty-two, fifty-six …,” Aja says.
The Sovereign wags a long finger. “Strange. Your heart gives you away.”
I clear my mind. Let it all fade. Imagine the mines. Remember the wind moving through them. Remember her hands on mine as we walked barefoot through cold dirt to the place where we first lay together in the hollow of an abandoned township. Her whispers. How she sang the lullaby my mother sang my siblings and me.
“Fifty-five, forty-two, thirty-nine,” Aja says.
“Is Augustus Ares?” she asks.
Relief floods me. “No. He’s not Ares.”
The door slams open behind me. We turn to see Mustang stalking into the room wearing the gold and white uniform of House Lune. A datapad glows on her wrist. She bows to the Sovereign. “My liege.”
“Virginia, you’re still a mess,” Aja drawls.
“Blame this dumb son of a bitch.” Mustang nods to me. “Seventy-three dead. Two Earthborn families erased, neither of which had anything to do with Bellona or Augustus. Over two hundred wounded.” She shakes her head. “I grounded all ships as you asked, Octavia. Praetorian command has initiated a no-fly zone in orbit. All family-owned capital ships have had their warrants revoked and are being pushed beyond the Rubicon Beacons till we give further notice. And Cassius still lives. He’s with the Yellows. Citadel Carvers are preparing plans for replacing the arm.”
The Sovereign thanks her and asks her to sit. “Darrow and I are getting to know one another. Are there any questions you think we should ask him?”
Mustang sits beside the Sovereign.
“My advice, my liege? Don’t try to solve Darrow. He’s a puzzle with missing pieces.”
“That’s rather offensive,” I say.
“So you don’t think we should keep him?”
“Cassius and his mother will—” Mustang starts.
“Will what?” the Sovereign interrupts. “I made Cassius an Olympic Knight. He will be grateful, and he will study his razor so this does not happen again.” Her face softens and she touches Mustang’s knee. “Are you all right, my dear?”
“I’m fine. Seems like I interrupted your game.”
