Golden Son

“It would make sense. He wants to tie my fate to his family. Probably make me marry Mustang. It’ll fracture my alliance with the Jackal if I become an heir, though.”

“Does the Jackal care about that?” Sevro asks. “Seems like he’s abandoned hope of ever gaining approval. Bloody bastard’s building his own empire.”

“I’ll have to see,” I say.

Fitchner continues. “Dispose of the Jackal or make him part of the plan, it doesn’t matter. Augustus will adopt you as his heir. And he will use you as a Praetor in his armada. And if you defeat the Sovereign, he won’t settle for being King of Mars. He’ll want to be Sovereign himself. Help him be. And a year into his reign, Sevro will kill him and pin it on a rival, maybe the Jackal.…”

My turn to rock on my feet.

“You want me to inherit the empire,” I guess. “The entire Society.”

I gawk at him. At Dancer. How can they look so serious?

“Yes,” Fitchner says. “After he dies, all will look to the strongest. Be the strongest. Win the game of succession and you can be Sovereign just as you were Primus. Just as you are Praetor. It’s all games. Except this time we’re helping you cheat. We will feed you information, guard you against assassination attempts. With me on your side, you will have a spy network even the Jackal and Sovereign cannot rival. We will bribe who we need to bribe and kill who we need to kill.”

I sit reflectively looking at my hands. “I thought the lies were nearly over. I want to declare what I am. I want to declare war.”

“We can’t yet. You know that.”

I do, but I don’t want to leave these people. “I won’t be in the dark again. We will communicate. We will plan. No more gray areas. Do you understand? I can’t be alone like before.”

“Say yes, Fitchner,” Sevro says. “Or I’m not going either.”

“We’ll communicate every day, if you need. I can’t come with you. There’s a ghost war being fought that I have to manage. But in my stead, I’ll send some of my best agents. You’ll have a cabal you can trust. Spies. Assassins. Courtesans. Hackers. All with perfect covers. All willing to die to break the chains. You are no longer alone.”

Relief fills me. But there’s something I know I can’t do. “I have to go back.”

“Yes. They’ll be wondering where you are,” Fitchner agrees.

“No.” I say. “I have to go home.”

“Home?” Dancer asks. “To Lykos?”

“Why?” Fitchner asks. “What’s left for you there?”

“My family. It’s been four years. I need to see them before this begins.” I look each man in the eyes, each so scarred and so wounded in his own way. “You have to understand that. Things are about to break apart in ways we can’t predict. We pretend we know what we’re doing, pushing these Golds to war. Planning our own. Like we can control it, but we can’t. We’re just mortals opening Pandora’s box. And before everything turns upside down, I need to remember what I’m fighting for. I need to know it’s worth it.”

“You want their blessing,” Dancer says. “Her blessing.” He knows my heart better than Fitchner. If I’m to let Augustus adopt me, then I must go home first.

“You can’t tell them what you are. They won’t understand.” Fitchner steps forward, suddenly cautious of my temper. “You know that.”

“How much easier would this have all been if you and I had conspired the whole way through?” I say. “Lies breed lies. We have to trust.” I look at Sevro. “I’m taking her to Lykos.”

“Her?” Dancer asks.

“Mustang,” Sevro murmurs.

“No,” Fitchner almost yells. “Absolutely not. No. It’s not worth the risk. You’re set up now. She’s in love with you! Don’t lose that leverage because of a guilty conscience.”

“And what if I love her too?”

“Shit,” Fitchner curses. “Shit. Shit. Shit. You’re serious? I thought this was part of your gorydamn game. Shit. Boyo, you’ll ruin everything. Gorydamn idiot. Shit.”

“This is everything,” I say. “She loves me. I won’t use her anymore. I won’t leverage her. If I can’t trust her, Gold can’t change, and Titus and Harmony were right. Hell, the Society is right. You and I know that it’s not about our Color; it’s about our hearts. Now let’s put that to the test.”

“And if you’re wrong? If she rejects you for them?”

I don’t have an answer.

Sevro hops down from his perch. “Then I put a bullet in her head.”

47

FREE

The Pot is a piece of shit—a three-hundred-meter-deep nest of metal and concrete humid with the stink of swill and cleaning agent. Once it seemed to tower above Lykos’s Common like some lofty castle. But as my ship descends, it’s just a dull metal blister in the southern Martian taiga, far removed from the grand cities where men marshal for the great effort against Octavia au Lune.

The Grays inside aren’t fit to get paid doing anything but intimidate Reds. To think I once considered the Grays like Ugly Dan crack troops. Sad to see how weak and petty the demons of my youth really were. As though I come from some hollow fantasy past.