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“A little,” he says. “But there are only some things in life I’m certain of. And one of them is that I raised a winner.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
ORION
All the pieces of this macabre puzzle are finally in place.
Our approaching fleet. Drones stationed around Homeworld, weapons at the ready. The Order of the Hunt making its way toward Atarys from the opposite direction, stealth ships coasting into the planet’s oceans like water-skimming insects.
We’ve already said our goodbyes, and there’s no more time to waste. Fiona doesn’t cry as she embraces each of the men, and I watch from where I stand near the Spectre’s hatch, ready to fly her down to the planet and into the depths. I can feel her nerves through the Elixir bond, but I think they’re more related to the prospect of drowning than they are to facing a Borean magister.
She has strange priorities—strange fears. I’ll never grow tired of learning more about her.
I glance to my left to find Taln approaching me after he says his goodbyes to Fiona, limping over on his cane. I didn’t expect any of them to speak to me—not because we’re on bad terms, but because I have full confidence in the plan ahead. Taln, though, doesn’t seem so sure, his face drawn with concern.
“Hunter,” he says gruffly, tilting his chin.
“Warrior,” I nod back. “You seem disturbed.”
“Of course I am,” he says. “You and my queen are about to put yourselves in harm’s way while I stay up here.”
“We’ll be fine,” I say. “You know I won’t let her be harmed.”
“Your control can only go so far, Orion,” he says. “And I…”
I cock my head at him. “You what?”
“I’ve come to count you as one of my dearest friends,” he says quietly. “You’ll be in my thoughts as well.”
Something stirs in my chest: something warm and comforting and somehow painful. It’s a new sensation…a feeling ofbelonging. “This would be easier if I still hated you all.”
Taln chuckles. “With any luck, you’ll have an eternity to learn how to hate us again.”
He fiddles with something in his pocket, then pulls it out and presses it into my hand. I find it cool in my palm, and run my thumb over it before opening my talons to take a look. It glints gold in the light, whatever engraving there was worn rough with use.
“A medallion,” I say. “Of what?”
“Yrsa, of course,” Taln says. “I’ve carried it all these years as my steadfast companion as I go into battle. But now thatyou’llbe the one with a sword in your hand…it only seems right that you take it.”
My frill tucks close to my scalp as I try to maintain my composure. My people don’t cry—not like mammals do—but I still feel. And this…
“Thank you,” I say, my voice rough. “For your friendship. I’ll see you again soon.”
Taln puts his hand on my shoulder. “See you soon, my friend. And may Yrsa bless your sword.”
I nod to him, and find Fiona striding toward me. She’s in the fighting leathers she’s worn since Alamancia, along with the armor of a Merati queen. A Hunter’s cloak drapes over her shoulders, enough to conceal her in the deep shadows of Atarys’s maintenance canals. We’ll have to wait until the battle has begun to make our approach, and I can tell she’s already on the fence about doing this at all.
“Let’s go,” she says. “If we don’t do this now, I don’t think I can bring myself to make the leap.”
I tilt my head at her, and take one last look at the others. “I’ll keep her safe,” I promise them.
Nereus is the only one who speaks, his green eyes red with tears. “We know,” he says. “Good luck.”
—
And so the battle for Homeworld begins.
I pilot the Spectre away from the Wrath, and watch as ships begin to arrive out of hyperspace, or uncloak from stealth. Fiona joins me at the viewing window, and I feel her start to tremble when the first shots are fired. We can’t feel or hear them—in the vacuum around us, there’s no way for vibrations to travel—but I think that only makes things worse for her, especially when we watch the Wrath glide down toward the planet, a single shuttle of troops launching from its hull.
