Golden Son

“I found out later, Nero contrived an agreement with the daughter of the sitting Sovereign. You know her as Octavia au Lune. Younger then, she convinced her father to give Nero the throne of Mars and his revenge; in return, she earned Nero’s support when she led the faction that overthrew and killed her father five years later. That is the man you started a war for.”

“I didn’t know this,” I say quietly.

“History is written by the victors.”

Lorn looks at me and the lines on his face seem to deepen. “I don’t want to go to war, Darrow. In my time, I have seen a moon burn, because one man would not bow. I have led a million warriors shot from warships to invade a planet. You cannot begin to understand the horror of it. You think only of how beautiful it will be. But they are men. They are women. They have families. And they die by the thousands. And you will be helpless to protect even the best of your friends.

“Ah!” He points uphill. “There’s Icarus.”

Rain drips from the pines as we push through the lower tree boughs to find Icarus, Lorn’s pet griffin, sleeping in a great bed of moss on a high promontory inside the small forest. Icarus’s paws curl into his body. His wings curve around him as he sleeps—iridescent and glittering with droplets of water. His great eagle’s head is nearly larger than I, one of his eyes half the size of my skull. The Carvers made him well.

“He looks peaceful when he sleeps,” Lorn says.

“He’s bigger than any I’ve seen,” I say, unable to conceal the awe in my voice.

“You’ve not been to the pole of Mars or Earth, then.”

“No. Where did you buy him?”

“Martian Carvers made him for my family. Damn that fashionable Zanzibar twit. Icarus is of the same genus as the beasts in the high aeries in Mars’s north pole. The ones they use to terrify Obsidians into believing magic is real.” He strokes the sleeping giant. “Are you still in love with the ArchGovernor’s daughter?” He glances back at me hopefully. “Is that why you do this? I heard about her and the Bellona.”

“It isn’t about what happened between her and Cassius.”

“No?” He sighs. “I could have understood that, at least. You were sloppy in that, you should know. The Irenicus Folly would have done him in three moves.”

“I wasn’t sloppy. I was making a show.”

“Sloppy. Violets are showmen. Did I train you to be a showman?”

I move past him to pet Icarus. “So you do care about me.”

He does not answer me for a spell, and it’s then that I know the moment I’ve dreaded most is nearly upon us. “In another life, you would have been one of my sons, Darrow. I would have found you earlier, before whatever happened that filled you with this rage. I would not have raised you to be a great man. There is no peace for great men. I would have had you be a decent one. I would have given you the quiet strength to grow old with the woman you love. Now all I can give you is a chance. Icarus,” he booms.

His griffin stirs by his side, its amber eye showing me my reflection. The ground shudders as the creature moves, uprooting a tree as easily as I’d pull a hair.

I move back from the beast, unsure of Lorn’s intentions.

“What is going on?” I ask Lorn.

“Look to your ship.” He points upward in the night. Through a break in the clouds, we can see my long ship glittering in orbit. She’s no longer alone. Ten torchShips come for her now, slipping around the cover of Europa’s equator to capture the Pax.

“A Praetorian death squad waits for you inside my home, Darrow. Aja au Grimmus leads them. They will take you, chain you, and bring you before the Sovereign.”

“You betrayed me?” I ask.

“No. They arrived days ago. They threatened. What could I do? Kellan au Bellona leads their fleet. It will destroy or capture your ship. I can’t stop that. But I do not want you to die. So Icarus will take you to an island where I have hidden a ship for you. Use it to escape.”

“Will they hurt your family if I escape?”

“They may try,” he growls. “That is the consequence of your decision and mine.”

He stands with his back to the sea.

“I want to fade in peace. So please, leave and never return, Darrow.”

He gestures to Icarus and I see a thin saddle upon the beast—the new toy of which he spoke. But I do not need to flee. I shake my head for what is about to happen.

“I’m sorry, my friend. But I cannot allow that.”

“Allow?” he asks, turning.

“You will join us in this war.” My razor uncoils. “Whether you like it or not.” I speak into my com, telling the Howlers to prepare to rise and the Titans to bring the ships around.

The blood drains from his face and he looks at the beast emblazoned upon my tunic. “A lion after all.”

29

OLD MAN’S WRATH