Golden Son

“Pax and I had never met before. All I saw was an obstacle in my path. Of course I knew of the Telemanuses, but after Claudius got his brains splattered everywhere, Father split Mustang and me up to protect us. Put me in even greater isolation than her. I was his heir. I had no friends, only tutors. He ruined my youth. And then he discarded me as he discarded you, because we lost. You and I mirror each other.”

A fight breaks out in the level above us. A scorcher cracks. Bouncers rush upward, cradling their own weapons. Most of the patrons sit undisturbed.

“What of your sister?” I ask hesitantly, knowing deep down that I have no other options left but this one.

“Do you want to know how she fares?” he asks plainly. “Who shares her bed? I can give you whatever answers you want. My eyes are everywhere.”

“I don’t want that.” I shake my head, trying to banish the dark idea of someone sharing her bed. Of her finding joy in someone else, even if she deserves to. Even stranger is thinking the Jackal knows these things. “Is she involved in this?”

“No,” the Jackal says with a heavy laugh. “You know she’s with Lune now. It’s hilarious, really. Who would have thought that of the two of us, she’d be the prodigal twin? Well, more

prodigal.”

“She cannot be hurt,” I say. “If she is, I will cut off your head.”

“That’s aggressive. But you have a deal. So you are with me.”

“I’ve been with you since I got into the shuttle. You know I have no other options. And I know no other person would ever summon me here. The variables could only lead to this end.” And why should they not?

I took his hand, he took a friend. All he has done is bite and claw for his own survival. Watching him now, so small and plain in a world of gods, it’s almost as if he’s the hero nobly struggling against a father who rejected him, against a Society that laughs at his size, his weakness, and scorns him as a cannibal even though it was they who told him to do whatever he had to do to win. In an odd way he is like me. He could have had his hand repaired, but he chose not to, wearing it as a badge of honor instead of shame.

So I’ll go along with this. Then, in the end, maybe I’ll kill him. For Pax.

His face splits into a grand smile. “I’m so pleased, Darrow. So pleased. And, to be honest, a bit relieved.”

“But what is next?” I ask. “You must need something from me now.”

“A Gold by the name of Fencor au Drusilla has learned of my … dealings with the syndicates. He is trying to blackmail me. I need you to kill him.”

Of course. “When?”

“Not for a week or so. The real purpose of killing him will be to gain favor with one of the Sovereign’s cousins who was slighted by Fencor. With Fencor’s death, you’ll fall into the cousin’s … favor.”

I choke down a laugh. “You’ll have me play the role of a Pixie gallant, flitting about court, bedding ladies?” Mustang will think I’m doing it to spite her.

The Jackal’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Who said anything about ladies?”

“Oh,” I say, realizing what he means. “Oh, that’s … complicated. Tactus might be better for this.…”

The Jackal chuckles at my surprise. “Oh, you’ll do just fine. But all this is worry for another day. For now, relax. I’ll purchase your contract through a second party as soon as it goes up for auction.”

“The Bellona will try to buy it.”

“I have a backer. We’ll outspend them.”

“Victra?”

“No. She’s more of a broker in this. What you have to understand about Victra is she’s not … how do you say … partisan

. She just loves stirring the pot. The backer you’ll meet soon enough.”

“That won’t work,” I say. “I want to meet him now. I’m not your puppet. I share everything I know, you share everything you know.”

“But I know so much more. Fine.” He leans forward. “You’ll meet him tonight. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just think it appropriate that he introduces himself.”

“Fine enough. I want to bring the Howlers back. And Sevro.”

“Done. You’ll also need to select a blademaster, someone to tutor you with the razor. We’ll need you to kill a few people publicly in the future.”

“I know how to use a razor,” I say.

“Not what I’ve heard. Come now, there’s no shame in it. I have a few names. It’s a pity Arcos isn’t tutoring. These days I might actually have the funds to afford Stoneside and his Willow Way.…”

His words trail off and his eyes drift from me, pulled to the slinking form of a woman who cuts through the smoke and drab of the tavern like an ember falling through fog. I can smell the almond on her skin, the citrus of her lips as she nears our table, graceful and stirring as the air of Venus’s Summer Coast. Bones fragile, avian. She wears a black shift that covers her skin except her bare shoulders.