Tears flow from my eyes. When I wipe them away, I see I am not alone. Cassius weeps as well. After Aurae has finished her song, Cassius fetches cups and pours us all wine. Seeing my eyebrows rise, he gives himself the smallest portion.
With the reddest eyes in the room, he sniffs, wipes his nose with his sleeve, and raises his glass. “To the engines, the reactor, rapid winds may they devise. To our hearts, to our hands, toward deeds brave and true may they rise. To the Republic, to Mars, for hope and liberty ever may they stride.” He thinks for a moment. “To our Sovereign, a lion Gold but wise as Minerva gray-eyed.”
We drink. When the wine is gone, we melt away into the hollows of the ship. Neither Cassius nor I mention training tonight. Laying in my bunk, The Path on my chest, I look up at the ceiling at the scrawl that Lysander left behind after ten years of calling this ship home. My eyes fix on his family phrase: LUX EX TENEBRIS.
Out of darkness, light.
The words of the enemy hang over my head, and I feel purpose in a way I haven’t in some time. I have done what I promised myself I would in the prison that was Marcher-1632. I listened to Virginia. Now the rest is up to me. I look out the small bunk window and see Mars. It is no longer a light whose growing brightness measures my progress home. The moment Virginia told me what I had to do, I thought my hope would diminish in seeing this last glimpse of Mars, but it doesn’t. I hold the light inside even as my home shrinks in the distance and our black ship races toward the Belt.
36
LYSANDER
Jurisdiction
“LYSANDER, WAKE UP.”
I emerge from the darkness into pain. A familiar voice speaks in my ear. Pytha’s, rushed and worried. “Lysander, can you hear me? You were poisoned and put in a medically induced coma. We’ve only just brought you out. Something has happened. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”
I can understand her but I cannot reply. My body is possessed by a cold flame. It ghosts through my bones like a memory of hell. It wants to be hot, the flame. Something restrains it, a drug. I feel the dumbness in my thoughts.
“This won’t do. We need him lucid. He’s an eggplant.” Cicero’s voice. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Pytha says.
“Boots. They’re coming. Dammit. Exeter must have told them.”
There’s a whoosh of a door retracting. Boots thump into the room. Pulse weapons whine. A demonic voice rasps: “Step back from the Blood.”
“Praetorians, we mean your dominus no harm. It’s me. Cicero!”
“Dominus, step back from the Blood or you will be fired upon.”
“It’s too late, Kyber, we already pulled him out.” Pytha shakes me. “Wake up. Moonboy. Can you hear me? You need to wake up. Everything is at stake.”
“Praetorian Kyber, be reasonable,” Cicero says. “We are Lysander’s closest companions, not to mention I was your host on Venus and positively drowned you all in wine and Pinks. Furthermore, I am the head of a house of the Conquering. Rhone, thank Jove, there you are. Tell your men to stand down. This is absurd behavior.”
Rhone’s voice is hostile. “You woke him? My orders were clear.”
“Yes, you surpass your post, my goodman. You have no right—”
“Captain, I am his Dux. I have every right to make decisions for him when he is incapacitated. You are the one without right. I am also the ranking officer on the Lightbringer, Captain Pytha.”
“Flavinius, what is wrong with you?” Pytha snaps. “You know he’d want to be woken. He risked everything for this alliance with the Rim. He’d never forgive us if—”
“Pyyythaaa,” I murmur.
They stop arguing. Cicero leaps to my side, shoving Pytha out of the way in his elation to see me first. “Salve, brother. How do you feel?”
“Shit…”
“I’ll say. We thought you’d died. Don’t do that to me. You know I’ve a timorous heart. My sister has been keeping things afloat. Don’t you worry.”
“Re-port.”
Rhone approaches. “Dominus, you were poisoned. Do you remember?”
“Rain…fall yet?”
“He needs water,” Pytha says. And presses a metal straw to my lips, embarrassing both Cicero and Rhone for not considering my comfort. I’m happiest to see Pytha. Her Civic Crown has been tattooed. It looks proper on her head. My swallows are sluggish, but the water cools the arid rawness of my throat. I choke in my eagerness to fill myself with it. Pytha wipes tears from my face with a corner of her uniform. The tears are bloody.
Now I recognize the cold flame in my body. I remember the poisoning.
“Medusa’s…Lament,” I murmur. Rhone nods. Even my teeth are starting to ache. It will get worse. Far worse. I take a few moments to sift through the muddle of my thoughts. “How…long?”
“Eight days since you went under,” Pytha says, unable to hide her relief. “Don’t strain yourself.”
“We have Atalantia’s assassin,” Rhone reports. “It was one of the Pink acrobats, I fear.” The one who came down on her silks to offer me a bit of leisure. “Rath wasn’t incriminated. We have her confession recorded should you like to send it to the Two Hundred and make a formal complaint. But some know already. Many are furious. You’re even more popular than before you started crying blood.”
“What advantage!” Cicero is far too delighted by my poisoning. “She swung and she missed, Lysander. It’s brilliant! This might be the costliest assassination attempt in that heinous woman’s storied career! We have the votes. We can call a session of the Two Hundred and strip her of her powers. Maybe worse. Lysander Invictus, indeed. But never mind that, you’re awake now. Much has happened.”
“Tell me,” I croak.
“Lysander…the Rim, they’re abandoning the siege,” Pytha says, blessedly blunt. “Diomedes has been asking to speak with you since yesterday. Rhone wouldn’t allow it.”
“Your medici panel agreed that nine more days were required to guarantee your recovery,” Rhone explains. “I consulted with Lady Bellona and Apollonius and ordered their advice followed. I didn’t want to risk your life, dominus.”
“Where…is Ajax.” They go quiet. “Oh. Sorry. My head’s a little off.”
Cicero can’t help himself. “Lysander, you have to stop the Rim from leaving. All we’ve worked for. It’s at risk. Dido won’t listen to me or Lady Bellona. Make Diomedes listen to you. Make him tell his mother to stay, or at least tell us what is happening.”
By the look in Pytha’s eyes, I know she thinks that a dubious proposition and woke me for a different reason. Her hand squeezes mine. “There’s another option,” she says. “He said as much to me.”
I nod, eliciting thunderclaps of pain. “Show him in.”
Rhone objects. “Dominus, Medusa’s Lament is not finished with you. It won’t be for some time. If you remain awake, you could go into shock. The risk to your nervous system and for organ failure is—”
“Acceptable. Show him in.”
The old soldier holds my gaze, and nods with reluctance.