She yawned, head tilting back as he worked on the second braid. “No school?”
“No school.”
“Will there be toys?”
He lied to her out of love, as any parent would. “Yes. Lots of them.”
When the braid was finished, Vanya hugged her to him tightly, kissing the crown of her head, trying to memorize the way she felt in his arms—small and warm and oh so precious.
A soft clearing of a throat had Vanya looking up, meeting Soren’s gaze from across the courtyard. “We’re ready.”
Vanya nodded, lifting Raiah in his arms. He carried her through the Imperial estate and to the garage, where Soren’s velocycle had been outfitted with a ride-along seat meant for a child. Alida stood nearby, a child-sized helmet and goggles dangling from one hand, eyes wide and wet as she looked at them.
“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them she’s a tithe,” Soren said as Vanya buckled Raiah into the ride-along seat.
Alida silently handed him the helmet, and Vanya carefully placed it over his daughter’s head. He secured the tiny strap beneath her chin before placing the goggles over her eyes. Then he leaned down and kissed her firmly on the cheek.
“I love you,” he said in a low, rough voice.
“Love you back, Papa,” Raiah said with a sleepy smile.
Vanya straightened up and forced himself to let his daughter go. Soren slung a leg over his velocycle and started the engine. His own helmet and goggles were in place, the night lenses flipped down, because dawn was still two hours away.
He was leaving with no escort, weighed down with what weapons Soren could carry, a televox, an Imperial writ, and the heart of Vanya’s House seated behind him.
Vanya desperately wanted to keep both of them by his side.
“I’ll keep her safe, and I’ll call when we’ve arrived at Karnak,” Soren promised.
Vanya pressed his hand over Soren’s chest, where he knew the vow rested beneath the leather vest. “I know you will.”
Because Soren had kept him safe years ago, the same way he was doing now. Vanya would owe him more than he could possibly repay, and Soren had to know that.
Vanya didn’t care about the legionnaires around them, about Alida, about anyone else watching. He leaned down and kissed Soren goodbye with a ferocity that he could never admit out loud was love, but it felt like that.
“Vanya,” Soren whispered against his lips, quiet and aching in a way Vanya knew only too well. “I—”
“Don’t,” he said raggedly, pulling back. “Don’t speak unless it’s to ask me for what you want.”
Soren’s smile was a crooked, tight thing. “I’m not supposed to want.”
But he did, and they both knew it, even if they never gave voice to what they shared between them in the nights Soren found his way to Vanya’s bed.
And it felt like Vanya’s world was breaking when Soren drove away, but Vanya was the one who let it shatter.
“What now?” Alida asked when the rumble of Soren’s velocycle could no longer be heard.
Vanya tipped his head back and looked at the stars, finding the Lion constellation after searching the sky, the Dawn Star shining bright in the midst of celestial teeth.
“We bring a House to ruin.”
Five
JOELLE
That morning’s broadsheet arrived at the House of Kimathi late. It eventually found its way beside Joelle’s breakfast plate, unfolded and placed within reach by a servant. The headline screaming from the top of the page put a frown on her face.
“He survived,” Joelle said, making a moue of annoyance.
