He starts in surprise. “No?”
“I don’t need it,” I say. “I don’t want it.”
He’s flummoxed. “Lyria, you don’t have to decide this instant. And the memory loss isn’t assured.”
“I don’t need it. I just need you to take it out and let me go.” I feel an existential urge to flee. To wash my hands of the parasite. “Just get it out of me.”
“How will you help your friend without it?” he asks.
“I don’t know. But I’d rather die than forget my sister, my pa, my ma. My brothers. They already died once. If I don’t remember them…Well, it’s just that Liam, my nephew, he’s a kid. I haven’t told him all about our family yet, about his ma. If I don’t no one will. Then they’ll all be gone. Like they never mattered. But I know that’s not true. They mattered.”
His confusion fades. He looks as if he’s about to cry.
“That is very beautiful, Lyria. You are right. They did matter. And to be honest, with no condescension, I very much admire you for your decision.”
Though he doesn’t say it, I know somehow that he has someone whose memory he keeps alive, like a child shielding a candle against the wind. “Very well, Lyria. If you’re sure of your decision…” I nod. “Then we can schedule the operation to remove the psyche.”
“And then you’ll let me go.”
“Yes. When the time is right, and there is no risk to this place, I will let you go and give you all you need to return home to your nephew.”
* * *
—
I’m left in my room to my own devices until Matteo comes to fetch me for my surgery. I pace the whole time, watching the carvelings swim through the glass, wondering if I’ve made the right decision. Wondering which decision is braver, but knowing in the end that I meant what I said to Matteo.
As a girl, I dreamed of being big and strong. Of being carved like Darrow. But I feel I’ve only just started becoming me. I’m gaining strength from all the bad that’s happened to me. To lose that now seems like a betrayal of what I’ve gone through so far. Worse, it’s a betrayal of everyone who’s gone out of their way to help me.
I jump when Matteo sets his hand on my shoulder to guide me to the operating table. My white paper shift crinkles as I lay down. The table is warm though the room is cold and blinding white. I flinch as a chrome orb descends from the ceiling and begins unfolding hidden appendages until it has eight. “I know Charlotte looks like a monster, but she’s actually very sweet,” Matteo says of the orb. “I named her for a character in one of my favorite books. You are in good hands.”
A long appendage with a crimson disk on the end extends toward me. I smell burning hair and feel a sting on my scalp. The appendage withdraws and I reach up to touch my bald head. “That bitch,” I say.
Matteo chuckles. “You’ll be out for the procedure. Don’t worry.”
“You ever had your skull drilled into?” I ask.
“Sadly yes,” he replies. Sensing my nervousness, he slides my hand between his and smiles down at me. His eyes are warm pools of sunset pink, a color I did not know existed when I lived in the grimness of my mine. “I want to thank you, Lyria.”
“For what?”
He looks down, very sensitive. “In life, it is very tempting to forget the past to try and make a perfect future. But the past, and the pain we have endured…they make us who we are. Without my past, my pain, I would not be what I am. I forgot that. I remember it now very clearly, thanks to you.”
His eyes return to mine. “The message you sent was, in fact, blocked by our technology. After our tea, I sent that message to the coms relay you used to report your movements to Agea. Pax may have sent you, but the message will no doubt find its way to our Sovereign, though I fear neither will be able to sway my husband to return to the fight. But there is one man who might, if he’s still alive.”
“Darrow?” He nods. “But he died on Mercury,” I say. A strange hope grows in my chest. One I did not think Darrow could still inspire in me anymore. “Didn’t he?”
“Maybe.” Matteo smiles. “But then again, maybe not.”
14
VIRGINIA
The Armor of Love
IN THE SPACEPORT SOUTH of Agea, snow drifts down on five of the fastest vessels in the Republic fleet. Their crews and space legionnaires stand at attention. Patrols circle overhead. I meet the many-colored eyes of the sailors and captains. After receiving Lyria’s message and the data her sensors collected, I had them assembled as quickly as possible.
I look at them and wish I could say: we have received information of an armory of unknown size located on the fringe of the asteroid belt. Your mission will be to investigate the scene, locate the armory, and acquire any possible weapons or ships that may be of use in the defense of Mars.
But I cannot. Instead, I say, “My friends, this mission may decide the fate of our Republic. I wish I could tell you its purpose, but you will be traveling through enemy-held space and the chance of capture is high. Your ships are fast, but the Rim’s are faster. Your route will also take you through the territory under attack by Volsung Fá, the warlord who stole most of the Volk fleet eight months ago. Only your captains and my emissaries know where you are going. Not all of you will survive. But at least one of your ships must survive to reach its destination. The Republic and Mars depend on you. Your children and my own depend on you. I thank you for your trust, from the bottom of my heart. Good fortune and good speed.” I lift my fist. “Hail libertas!”
“Hail Reaper!” they shout and board up.
His name is Darrow, I think. Because the Reaper is not mine. He’s not the man I love. Darrow is. Endure, I once told him. Yet it is I who must endure. Reaper. Reaper. It never stops. They mean well, and the Reaper’s name feeds them power. But they shout for the god while I carry a hollowness inside me the size of the man.
It’s lonely. I miss my husband.
The five senators acting as my emissaries linger behind the crews to receive my parting words. They represent three Colors—Red, Gold, and Silver. They’re the best emissaries I can spare. I shake each of their hands. “You all know Regulus. He’s as prickly as a cactus, but if his heart still beats for the Rising, I know no better emissaries to help him remember it. Win him back to our cause,” I say. “Our agent has not reported in since her last transmission. And we believe her ship has been destroyed, so keep in mind that you may not be met with open arms.” I pause. “You cannot be captured en route. You all understand?”
They nod. I wish them luck and watch them board before turning to return to my own shuttle, flanked by Lionguards. Kavax waits for me there. The look in his eyes is unmistakable.
“Word from Victra?” I ask. He nods. I sigh. I had hoped that she would be able to escape the noose that’s slowly tightening around Mars. Instead, as I glance at the report, I see she’s taken more casualties than we can afford. “If we can’t punch out and hit them, this becomes a war of attrition.”
He nods again. “Fortunately, we have all the helium.”