“This means nothing. Not to us. We all know it. But it will mean something to people who weren’t here, if we let it. I don’t know what we’ll find when we return to the Core. Whether Mars stands or not. Whether there will even be a Republic navy left to rendezvous with us.
“But I do know this. One way or another, this war will not last the year. A reckoning is coming. Either for the tyrants or for us. We are weaker. We are fewer. The only advantage we have is that they can’t afford to trust one another. We can’t afford not to.”
“May I say something?” We all turn to the interloper. It is Aurae. Standing with the Daughters behind Athena, she takes off her scarf and goggles. Diomedes smiles softly. I motion her forward. “In the Garden where I was raised, we are taught to study people like flowers. Many Pinks are not destined for high halls and must know how to sense dark intentions behind even the kindest eyes. When I look at you, I sense you are all growing toward the light. There is something sacred in that, because you all represent a people. People who yearn for something more. For something they’ve never had. Lune, Grimmus, they are trying to reclaim what they have lost: control. There is nothing sacred in that. They do not lead. They pull, they corral, they confine. Their path has only room for one. Your path has room for you all. Remember that, and from this ash freedom will grow.”
On that note, the meeting adjourns. Volga returns to her jarls. Lyria jerks her head at Sevro and me to join. I nod at her dirty forehead. “The ash didn’t go unnoticed by the Moonies. Well done.”
Volga grimaces. “There is more to do before it is washed clean. Darrow, I am sorry about your friend. Cassius. He was the most handsome man I have ever seen.” Lyria snorts. Sevro rolls his eyes. “He was. A warrior must tell the truth. And I hear he was very kind. I wish I could have known him better. Lune will die. He has broken Lyria’s heart. Whatever you need. When the time comes…”
“Thank you, Volga.”
I look at Lyria. She’s wiping her eyes. “He was quite fond of you,” I say. She doesn’t let me console her. She bull-rushes me and hugs my hips. I peel her off and kneel and take a real hug.
“He was really pure,” she says. “I’m so sorry, Darrow. He loved you. I’m sorry.”
She pulls back and wipes her eyes. “Shit. This sucks.”
Not long after, Volga returns to the Pandora with Lyria as Sevro and I say our goodbyes to Athena, Aurae, and Diomedes.
“The fleets of the giants are well under way,” Diomedes says. “Uranus will try to hit the outbound Ascomanni ships and return our stolen peoples. Neptune is across the sun and will meet us in the Core. Once the Shadow Armada meets me here, we will meet you at the rendezvous.”
“I won’t be able to wait long,” I say.
“Our ships are fast. Maybe we will beat you there.” He grasps my hand and then surprises Sevro by extending his hand to him as well. Sevro looks at it in suspicion.
“Don’t be late again,” Sevro says.
“Don’t torture me again.”
Sevro shakes Diomedes’s hand as quickly as possible. “I will see you in Sungrave?” Diomedes asks Aurae. I’ve seldom been able to look at people and realize they are in love. With Diomedes and Aurae it is so obvious even the ash knows. They are a strange, shadowy pair. One raw iron, the other a moonlit glen. But people probably think Virginia and I are an odd pair as well. Aurae squeezes Diomedes’s hand. He nods to me and returns to his people.
“I’m functioning as his emissary to the Daughters before he sails for the Core,” Aurae says.
“Of course you are,” Sevro says.
Athena grimaces after Diomedes. “Since I’m sending our fleet with you, Darrow, if his people turn on us, they’ll be able to wipe us out in a week,” she says.
“But they won’t,” Aurae says. “They need us too now.”
“You sure you don’t want to come with?” Sevro asks Athena. “Just in case?”
“I am not a warrior, and this is my home. The people need me more now than ever. Cheon will have to do,” she replies.
“If that’s the case…” I unwrap Pyrphoros from my arm. Aurae laughs.
Athena ignores the blade and peers up at the falling ash. “The Garter will take decades to rebuild. Without the croplands of the Core, we’ll starve out here. Maybe not this year. But the one after? Raa knows it. I know it. So you have to win, lads. Martian grain. Martian fruit. Martian cows and pigs. That’s your sentence. Feed us, and don’t break all my ships.”
With a nod to Aurae, she turns to head back to the refugee camp.
Sevro bumps Aurae’s shoulder with a fist. “Will miss your songs,” he says. “For a while they were the only thing that could make me feel anything.” Without waiting for a reply, he swivels away and heads for the Pandora.
I face Aurae. “It’s been a journey,” I mumble. “I wanted to say thank you. For bringing us here. For giving me The Path to the Vale. I was spiraling. People have saved my life before, but I think you saved my soul.”
“And you saved Cassius’s,” she says. “It wasn’t me that did it. I liked him very much. In another life, I might have loved him. But he didn’t need a woman’s love. He needed a brother’s. The way he talked about you. Well…” Her eyes swim with tears. “Lysander was an obligation. You were an aspiration. He was so afraid on our journey to the Core. So nervous to see you and be rejected. But when he saw you respected him, valued him, he shined like a star. His path led back to you, because you made him feel loved. That is all that matters, Darrow. When he died, he knew he was loved. So when you think of him, when you feel sad, remember that.” She kisses me on the cheek. “If we do not meet again, I will see you in the Vale with Cassius. You know the path.”
* * *
—
It is a strange mismatched fleet that departs Io. Not just because the Obsidian ships are hulking juggernauts while the Athenian vessels are lean lightning. It is the people on the ships too. The ships the Daughters stole or built themselves are understaffed and, while rich with crafty specialists and brigades of Black Owls, are short of meaningful infantry that can challenge the Ash Legions. The Obsidian ships, while rich with quality infantry, are riven by animosity between the crews and the returning Volk. The Blues and Oranges and Reds on those ships will never forget the treatment they faced under Fá’s rule, nor should they. Once they were hired contractors serving under Sefi’s generous hand, then they were slaves again to the very braves who called them colleagues. Only my tearful petition, the threat to Mars, and Volga’s immediate reforms keep the lowColor crews from using their newfound freedom to sabotage or abandon the ships. Still I imagine most of them will hate the Obsidians for the rest of their lives.
It is good Lysander did not want to fight our fleet. We have no cohesion yet and would have lost despite our advantage in numbers. I hope on the journey home Sevro and I can form the ragtag fleet into a fighting force that can combine with the Republic ships not grounded on Mars to help turn the tide. I know it will be an uphill struggle.