“Mercy,” he repeated. “Goddess, have mercy . . . The Great Dark is coming—”
“Then we’ll defeat it with iron, not blood!”
Her hand holding the dagger shook.
If she let him go, he would keep hurting people. He would keep taking Metals away until the only ones left were ones run through with the HIVE. He would keep preaching his fear of the Great Dark, a sort of fear that ensured that the only thing that burned bright was fire, consuming everything it touched.
But in the corner of her eye she could still see Riggs, and she couldn’t bring herself to shove that extra inch into this horrid man’s neck. Because if she did, then she was no better than Rasovant.
Then she would be like him, too.
And Di had saved her from those sorts of monsters.
Slowly, she eased the dagger away from his throat.
“You will tell the kingdom what you did,” she said, getting to her feet, trying to make her voice as strong as she could. “You will tell the kingdom what Metals are—who they are. You will tell them what happened the night of the Rebellion. That you killed the Emperor, and that your HIVE set the fire.”
Lord Rasovant staggered to stand, rubbing the thin cut from the dagger at his throat. He gave her a sharp, dark look.
“And then you will end the HIVE, and you will never be seen in this kingdom again,” she finished. “Do you understand?”
For a moment, the Adviser didn’t say anything at all. Until his lips twisted into a scowl and he said, “She was right. You should have burned!”
Then he reached into his robes for the outline of a Metroid at his side and she was turning her dagger on him.
Captain Siege told her to count her bullets. A dagger wasn’t a bullet, but no bullet aimed as true.
Goddess bright, she prayed the moment before her dagger sank into Lord Rasovant’s stomach, give me a heart of iron.
Jax
An explosion ripped through the left sail, sending the Dossier spiraling out of the moon’s orbit. Letting Siege and Talle off in the garden was the easy part. Getting out of Luna’s orbit—now there was the magic trick.
He pulled up on the helm, ignoring the half dozen warning signs. Yes, he knew the left sail was punctured. Yes, he knew he was losing power to the bottom level of the ship. Oh yes, and he definitely knew he was being fired on by three Messier fighters. It didn’t take a surgeon to figure out he was being followed.
Accelerating the right thruster, he leveled the ship with a lurch. Lenda hung on for dear life at the communications console, looking like she was about to vomit all over the incoming messages ordering them to surrender.
“Hey! Lose it to the side of the console!” Jax snapped at her. “And pay attention to the messages! I need to know when the captain has Ana.”
“I’m trying,” Lenda moaned. “Can you please make it stop spinning?”
“Yeah sure, love, if you want us to die.” A warning signal blipped up—two incoming missiles. Another hit to their sails and they wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon, but the Dossier’s thrusters weren’t powerful enough to dodge the attack.
Think, think, he urged himself, trying not to listen to the voice in his head that said, I told you so. You can’t change your stars.
But to be honest, when he looked out of the starshield at the millions upon millions of lights, swirling in their nebulae of purples and blues and greens, he couldn’t think of a better view. His father would never have approved, but his father had never approved of anything Jax did.
So when his father commanded him, a child of eight, to read his stars, Jax wanted to do one thing right. Just once. Besides, one never disobeyed an order from a C’zar.
What Jax had not known at the time was that while the stars were infallible, his father was not. In his father’s stars he found out the true fate of the Solani who could read them. Why they never lived long, and why they never fathered children.
Because nothing—not even a glimpse into the future—came without a price.
“I’ll die,” he told his father, his hands still shaking after the reading, chilling him to the bone like nothing ever had before. “I’ll die if I keep doing this. I’ll die if I keep—”
“What did you see?” his father had interrupted. “Did you see who the next Emperor will be? Did you see the Holy Conjunction?”
In their tiny bungalow in the city of Zenteli on Iliad, Jax had stared at his father with a growing horror. “You knew. That every time I used my power I’d shorten my life. You knew and you want me to keep doing it?”
“You do not have a choice,” his father had replied. “You are a powerful asset to the Solani legacy—”
“I’m not a weapon!” he had cried.
That night, Jax left.
He didn’t know what would have happened if he had stayed. Would he have died before now? Would it have been slow, in his sleep under the stars, with the taste of his mother’s cider still on his tongue?
How boring that sounded.
Lenda’s voice rose, frantic, from the comms chair. “Jax! I—I think there’s a missile—”
He reached out to the lever commanding the sails and grabbed ahold of it tightly. If he drew the sails back into the ship, they’d only have their inertia to coast with, and they weren’t yet out of the moon’s gravity.
So, obviously, what went up must go down.
He was counting on it.
“Hold on!” he cried, pulling the lever.
The sails sucked into the sides of the Dossier with a sharp noise, and the Dossier slowed out of speed with a sharp jerk. The Messier fighters went screaming past them, missiles exploding in a sharp blast. The blowback knocked the Dossier backward, and with an excited cry, Jax let gravity wrap its fingers around the old girl and pull her—like a meteor—toward the ground.
Hive
His father slid, like a melting piece of iron, to the Empress’s feet. And did not stir again.
As he watched, a tremor went through him, the voice in the back of his head screaming, so loud even the song could not block it out. It made him advance quicker, it made the song sweeter. It no longer felt like a minor chord in a major key, but an accompaniment, a sorrow that ached in a place he had long since forgotten. His father—his father was dead, both the voice and the song wailed.
He gave a cry, clutching his lightsword, and charged the Empress.
A moment before he swung, she looked up and ducked, scrambling out of the way. He slashed again with reckless abandon, carving a glowing mark down the wall. She stumbled on her dress, fleeing.
But there was nowhere she could run where he would not follow.
The HIVE’s song roared in his thoughts, prickling the back of his neck like splinters. The Empress had killed him. She’d killed Father. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
Kill her! the song cried, and he agreed.
He stepped over the corpse of his father, the dagger embedded in the man’s stomach. The old man’s yellowing eyes found his face. He reached up a bloodied hand, mouth forming words, but no sound came out.
There is not time for this, the red song screamed. Go after her!
But he did not want to leave Father. He did not—
The song spiked, puncturing any sorrow, any separate thoughts. He placed a hand on his father’s neck and squeezed. The man gave a gurgle, gasping, before his hand fell limp against the bloody floor.
After her, the song sang, and he obeyed. The Empress could not hide.
A group of guards rounded the corner to stop him, but he felt his way into the communicators inside their lapels and overheated them. They exploded, leaving gaping holes carved into the guards’ chests. They dropped with barely a scream.
Their Messier counterparts watched. Good statues.
He stepped over the bloody bodies, his lightsword humming hungrily in his grip. He could follow her to the ends of the cosmos without tiring.
He would follow her until she was dead.
r /> It did not take long for her to reach the end of the hall. She did not know the palace well enough, and humans made the most foolish mistakes. She stopped in front of the closed doors to the North Tower. There were new chains locking it shut.
She turned around. Her face imperfect. Illogical.
He advanced slowly.
There was no need to rush. Moments like these were to be savored.
“Snap out of it,” she said, pressing her back against the door. He could hear her heart thrumming, the pump of a fleshy organ in a brittle cage. “I know you’re still in there. I know you are—”
“You ruined me. Do you remember? I did not want to go onto the Tsarina, but you did not care.”
“You said you would go anywhere with me.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“But then, last night. You could have come away with me. You could have saved me. You could have been my home.” The hurt on her face deepened with every word, how it made the scars seem sharper. “But you did not love me enough to try.”
“I love you more than iron and stars, Di,” she whispered.
Di. Yes, she would die. He would be her death.
But he was not her Di.
Ana shook with a sob. Tears. She often woke up with those. Streaming down her cheeks.
You are mine, the HIVE sang.
“You’re my best friend,” she said.
He faltered. Blinked. “Friend?” He pressed his free hand against his forehead. “I—I think—Ana . . .”
“Di?” Her voice sounded hopeful.
He lowered his lightsword. It hummed, hummed, ready and waiting. She took a hesitant step forward.
“Di? Are you—is it you?” she asked, and when he looked back to her, he knew his eyes were moonlight. It was so easy to change their color. Her face broke into a smile, and she took another step forward. Then another. He helped close the distance. The HIVE, sweet and soft, sang like the whisper he had once heard a lifetime ago. “Di—Di it’s you, I’m so sorry I—”
“Ana!” someone shouted behind them.
He glanced over his shoulder to their uninvited guests.
The captain’s hair glowed the color it did when she was angry. Orange. And it seemed as though she was accompanied by what was left of her lackeys. The pirate captain aimed her Metroid at him. “Get away from her!”
“Captain?” he asked, turning to her. “Thank you for coming. I am . . . fine. I am myself again. The HIVE told me things. So many things . . . I could barely think.”
“He’s fooling you, Ana,” the Ironblood beside Siege warned. Blood painted his face, but it was not his. What had happened to Mellifare? “He’s not in there. He can’t be.”
“He has to be,” the Empress argued. “He has to be somewhere in there.”
The captain’s face hardened to stone as she tensed to pull the trigger. “I’m sorry—”
He quickly grabbed the Empress to use her as a shield, back toward them so she could only see his face when he killed her, and pressed his lightsword against her stomach.
The captain did not shoot. He smirked.
Humans were so predictable, he thought, until he became distinctly aware of a sharp prick against his ribs. He glanced down. She had a dagger hidden in her dress, it seemed, that she now pressed against his side.
“I promised,” she whispered, “I promised you on iron and stars.”
Iron and . . .
It was a promise, was it not?
You are mine, the red inside him screamed.
His hand shook, but at this range he could not miss. And neither would she.
“I promised . . . ,” she sobbed, the tip of her dagger quivering. She could kill him. The dagger was angled in a way that would not miss his vital components. “Remember what I promised, Di?”
If Metals had hearts, his would have broken, for he had promised, too.
But it was a good thing he did not have one.
He pressed his lips against her ear, relishing her smell. Of a moment long ago, honeysuckle vines and dusky sunlight falling across her cheeks.
“I should have let you burn,” he whispered, and slid the blade into her.
Ana
The pain was so bright it fractured the universe.
Someone screamed. Loud and yet so far away, like light from a distant star.
The dagger in her hand clattered to the ground.
Di watched, eyes warming to red again, as he pulled the sword out. The stench of iron filled the air. She pressed a hand against her pain, and it came away slick. Her stomach was wet and warm with crimson—the color of his hair.
Her blood? But she couldn’t die. Not yet.
She’d never thought she was afraid of death. She thought it was something she’d be ready for when the time came. But now its cold fingers squeezed around her heart.
And she couldn’t tell it no.
As she tried to breathe, a starburst of pain rushed up through her torso. Her head spun as though she was dancing. Dancing—an orchestra. Whirling around the ballroom. Crimson hair and an honest smile. All she ever wanted was to dance with him again, but there was no music.
Everything was so quiet.
Blood coated the back of her tongue. It tasted like iron. She turned her eyes back to him. But she did not recognize the monster staring back.
He let her go, and without anything to keep her steady, she fell.
Robb
Robb grabbed a flashbang from Talle and lobbed it at the son of a bitch. It exploded, so bright it blinded everyone, giving him time to draw his lightsword and rush the Metal. He slashed. Di deflected with his own sword, still sizzling with Ana’s blood. Robb attacked again. Sparks sprayed off their blades as he pushed Di into a corner.
Robb was the best fencer at the Academy. Like hell would some Metal beat him.
He tossed his lightsword up, catching the hilt in reverse, and rammed it into the Metal’s shoulder like a stake. The sword slid through, although he wanted so angrily to hit his memory core, and sank into the wall behind.
Di hissed in pain as the sword pinned him like a moth to a corkboard.
Try to get out of that fast, Robb thought.
Siege swooped Ana up in her arms and they ran, following the lanterns, finding themselves in the great hall, murals of the Goddess on the ceiling. They ran as fast as they could, so close to the entrance of the palace Robb could see the gilded front doors.
And that was when the Messiers leaned forward from their statuesque perches and pursued them.
Robb dodged the grip of one, but another pulled at his tailcoat. Talle took out her pistols and sent bullets into their chests, dropping them one by one, but they swarmed out of doorways like silver-skinned ants replacing those that fell.
And behind them, pushing through the flooding Messiers, was the unmistakable glow from Di’s red eyes, cutting down every body in his way with a sword in each hand. His injured shoulder spit sparks as he went.
The sword hadn’t held him long enough.
“Di’s coming!” Robb warned, as at the same time Messiers filed into a line at the entrance of the palace, blocking their escape.
“Talle, up ahead!” Siege thundered.
Talle dug into her coat for another flashbang and pulled the pin out with her teeth, pitching it at the Messiers. It exploded in rays of white. Robb dodged between two blinded automatons, the sound of Di’s lightswords slicing through them a moment later.
They hurried out into the square, now a graveyard of sweet-smelling food stalls and half-destroyed tents. Di followed, too vicious to be slowed down.
Robb realized they weren’t going to make it out of the palace alive.
He turned to Siege frantically. “Where’s Jax? What do we do—”
A roar—so loud it sounded like a starship—came from above. The smell of thruster exhaust exploded through the square.
From the dawn-filled sky fell a ship he never thought he’d be happy to see again. The Dossier.
&n
bsp; Jax.
The ship landed in the center of the square, flattening tents and stalls. The cargo bay door lowered, and in its yawning mouth stood Lenda with a heavy machine gun slung under her arm. She shot cover fire over their heads, raining sparks of white-hot bullets onto the Messiers in pursuit.
“WE’RE ON, JAX! FLY!” Siege howled after she’d climbed into the cargo bay, followed by Talle.
She spun back, extending her hand back to Robb. “Grab it!”
Twenty feet away, Di was closing in. His eyes flickered like rubies. A pulse throbbed from his Metal body and made his hair levitate, infused with static. Every comm-link and holo-pad in a twenty-foot radius exploded, leaving gaping holes in the Ironbloods still trying to escape.
The chip in Robb’s wrist sparked. He hissed, shaking away the pain. He took Talle’s hand and was pulled up into the cargo bay.
Siege cradled Ana in her arms. Blood was everywhere, soaking her opal dress crimson. The fiber optics in Siege’s hair shimmered with panic. “Ana, darling. Please—please, darling. Talle! Get a med kit! We have to stop the bleeding. Stay with me. Ana,” she choked, cradling her. “You’re safe, you’re safe. . . .”
But being safe didn’t matter now.
Thrusters hummed as the ship shifted, rising.
Robb glanced out between the closing cargo bay doors one last time and met Di’s ruby eyes. He was still coming, quickly, without remorse. Fifteen feet—ten.
The Dossier rose higher into the air.
Then Di stopped. He reached his hand up as if to grab the ship. Robb felt a shift—brief, like a magnetic pull—
And Di snapped his fingers.
The chip in his wrist lurched. Robb clutched it with a cry, dropping to his knees. Pain, swirling, throbbing, raced up his swordfighting arm as the chip grew brighter. And brighter. Blazing like the sun through his skin. He screamed. Pain curled up around his shoulder, seized hold of his heart, and squeezed. It squeezed so hard he barely felt it when the chip burned away the nerves in his wrist. When it tore apart the blood vessels in his hand. When it spread like molten lava, up and up and up his arm until the pressure was too much and the light was too bright—