The action ignites a wildfire of dissent and opprobrium.
Julia has to hammer her staff for quiet.
Atalantia laughs. “Unfortunately, the madman has raised arms against the Society. He is cornered by Asmodeus’s army. My own ships are four days away. When they arrive, they will extinguish House Rath forever.”
“Your ships will not be needed,” I say. “I have already made peace.” I extend a hand toward Horatia. “Au Votum.”
Horatia stands. “As we speak, my brother, Cicero, leads our fleet toward Venus. They will arrive in four hours. In the name of Lysander the Peacemaker, my brother has helped broker a ceasefire between House Carthii and House Rath. Apollonius will vacate the docks and turn them over to their rightful owners, House Carthii. The deal was struck not six hours ago.”
Atalantia whirls on the Carthii. “Cornelius, what is this?”
The Carthii stares at her in confusion. “My father would never agree to this—”
Horatia holds up a holocube. “I have in my possession a message from au Rath and the head of House Carthii.” Julia motions Horatia down and sends Ajax to collect and deploy the message.
Apollonius blooms into the room, three times his natural size. Only his hair is groomed. The rest of him is a testament to his frontline heroics. His left arm is broken, his right ear missing, his face covered with burns and shallow lacerations. His eyes glow with triumph.
But it is his companion who draws gasps. Valeria au Carthii stands beside Apollonius with a somber expression and speaks. “Salve, fellow Aureates. No doubt you have watched this battle between our houses with much consternation and fear of the risk to this critical infrastructure. Too much blood has been spilled. I have lost brothers, a sister, legions, and a father in this battle.” Murmurs rise. Her siblings stand in a panic. “Yes, a father.
“I regret to inform you that my great father, Asmodeus, fell yesterday. He died like a Peerless, on the field of battle with the mortal wound in his front. With great loss comes reflection. My father’s slights against au Rath were not imagined. Indeed, my father betrayed au Rath to the Republic seven years ago. Though there is a temptation to seek revenge, au Lune recalled to me on Mercury the words of Lorn au Arcos. Death begets death begets death…
“Now is not the time for blood feuds. Now is the time for unity. Thanks to Lysander and his proxy, Cicero, au Rath and I have agreed to terms. My house legions have sworn themselves to me. The dockyards are now under my control. Restoration and production begin tomorrow. Goodmen, the hatchet is buried. Goodladies, the feud is done. Our mission is too important. Mars must fall.”
Valeria said all that needed to be said with none of her usual flair. It is the perfect tone for the next administrator of the dockyards to strike. Apollonius also has a new tone suitable for this venture—as I requested, he’s reduced his grandiloquence.
“Gratitude, au Votum. My noble kin. For too long have I been cast from your favor and the fray. My eyes have been fixed on civil enemies only to forget the wily instigator that set us at each other’s throats. This…conflagration over Venus was nothing but another device of the devil who plagues us all. Darrow, and his wicked little henchman too. Barca.
“It was Darrow who attacked the docks with atomics, as many of you know. It was Darrow who sparked this battle. It is Darrow who has fled me, laughing at the chaos in his wake. No more. You call me madman. You call me black sheep. I care not. My legions board my crafts of war. We sail on Mars to reclaim our homeland. We sail with Votum, with Lune. Join us. For Mars must fall.”
Their images shrink back into the holocube in Ajax’s palm.
Horatia thrusts up her fingers in the horns. “Mars must fall!”
The Reformers surge to their feet and join the chorus. But it’s not just them. Apollonius has friends, admirers, and they burst to their feet with the horns uplifted, roaring his name in a battlefield frenzy. I turn to look at Diomedes and raise an eyebrow. Not one member of their deputation has so much as moved. He leans to whisper into his mother’s ear. She smirks, tongues her molars, stands, and lifts her blade. Then so does Helios.
As soon as they do, Julia au Bellona stands. With a glance for me, she sets her hand on her stomach, smiles, raises her other hand, and makes the horns. Her clients and friends burst to their feet and carry on the chorus until only Atalantia and her bloc remain seated. The majority is with me, and then some.
Atalantia has not moved. With a sigh, she waits for the uproar to die down.
“My ears are open, and I hear you,” she allows. “Your passions have been awoken. If you must forsake prudence to act on them, it is your right. But you understand, I cannot abandon the strategy that has brought us to the brink of victory: my own. I will maintain the siege of Luna with my fleet, and I wish you all well on this…escapade. For all our sakes, I pray Lysander is as gifted on the field of battle as he is on the speaking floor. Good luck, my friends.” Her eyes twinkle in amusement. “If Luna falls before Mars, perhaps I’ll come and join you.”
She stands from her chair and strides in my direction. Horatia and a few of her Reformers intercept her. Atalantia snaps her fingers and five Olympics rush to her in a moment, including Ajax. Knowing she wouldn’t risk a bald-faced assassination of me now, I have the Reformers let Atalantia through. Her anger is buried beneath a proud smile. “Truly, my beloved, I didn’t think you had it in you. My fault for always believing the best in people.”
“My mother and father send their tidings,” I reply.
Ajax stiffens and turns to look at Atalantia. She does not show any signs of guilt, but whatever he sees on her face makes his eyelids twitch. She’s too focused on me to notice.
Atalantia licks her incisors. “Kalindora?”
“Kalindora,” I say.
“Quite the liar that one.” She sighs. “I’ll send you your new boots. Oranges make fine leather.”
Whistling for her Olympics to follow, she heads for the exit, stopping only when she notices that Ajax has not fallen in behind her. She turns back and cocks her head at him. He looks back and forth between us, and then lifts his fingers in the horns. She lets out a small laugh of surprise mingled with disgust before turning her gaze on me. “Don’t let Glirastes’s death haunt you, Lysander. Now that you’re in the game, he won’t be the last friend you sacrifice.”
Atalantia strides out trailing Olympics and Irons.
I look over at Ajax and grip his shoulder. He gives me a hard nod, then we both look up to the top of the Colosseum, where Atlas watches us for a moment from his perch before flying away on his skipBoots, as silently as the crows who left before.
18
VIRGINIA
The Returned
VICTRA’S WAR SHUTTLE SQUATS in my reserved spot on the executive tarmac outside the Citadel of Agea. Muttering aspersions, I jump out the side of my own shuttle before it even sets down, and sprint for the Citadel.
Removed from the rest of Mars’s capital, the grounds are quiet. On the other side of the lake looms a battered Votum torchShip. It only just cleared orbital security to land. I spare it a glance and cut through the gardens, moving so fast Holiday and my Lionguards struggle to keep up. Their boots and capes trail red dirt from my tour of the bunker construction sites in the deepmines of Cimmeria.