“Matteo told me.”
He pauses for a moment. Even his silence is terrifying.
At last he asks, “What else did Matteo tell you?”
“That you didn’t get the ships you needed here, so you’re bound for the Rim. Which is under attack by the Ascomanni, well Volsung Fá.”
“He told you that?”
“And more,” I say.
He grunts.
“Must miss the Hyperion gossip circuit.”
“I’ve seen Volsung Fá,” I say.
“Have you?” I hear the interest in his voice.
“He chased me down a hallway once. All in black armor. With thorns on it.”
“Thorns?”
“He impaled men with them. He wanted Volga.”
“Ah, the time you fled thePandora,” he says.
“You know who I am. What I’ve done then,” I say.
He’s still looking straight up. “According to my wife, we’ve forgiven you. And I’m supposed to make sure you get home safe.”
“Forgiven? Slag that. I’m done feeling guilty for something I didn’t intend. I was asking because if you know who I am, you know I am close with Volga. What I don’t get is why you wouldn’t take me with you, seeing as how I’m the only friend Ragnar Volarus’s daughter has in all the worlds.”
Only when I stand up to him, and only then, do his eyes finally meet mine. He’s pained from his treatment. Still, I sway knowing only a portion of what those eyes have seen. Eo hanging. Armadas burning. A Sovereign dying on his blade. For a horrifying second, I realize what it must be like to be him. The man cursed to use the weapons of the enemy to liberate people like me.
All for what? People like me to stand with their hands on their hips and scold him?
All the anger I’ve had for him over the years dissolves in the reality of his existence. I wouldn’t want to be in an Iron Rain. I wouldn’t want to fight a Peerless Scarred. And he’s fought them all.
“I am not going to rescue Volga,” he says. “She’s probably already dead or brainwashed. Sorry. Those are the hard truths. This Fá doesn’t seem to play with his food.”
“But—”
“Ilium is a warzone. It’ll soon get worse, and Fá’s not long for this world. Helios and all the might of the Rim is coming for him. Are you a soldier, Lyria?”
“No,” I admit.
“Then you really don’t want to be there…”
“It’s because I’m a Red, ain’t it?”
His eyes flash with anger, and then soften just as suddenly. His voice softens too. “Lyria, I know the spirit of Reds. I know it well enough to know a Red’s spirit is not in her armor or her size or her experience.” He sighs. “Listen, Virginia sent me your dossier. I know what happened to your assimilation camp. I know what happened to your family. The camps never became what we wanted them to. I am sorry for it.”
“I ain’t yours to protect,” I snap harder than I mean to. “Now you listen. I don’t want your sorry. Volga is my best friend. She’s my only friend. She gave herself to Fá to protect Mars. Everyone just let her. I don’t blame them, but she’s got no one. I know what that’s like. I promised I’d get her back. She’s got no one else to fight for her. Don’t you care at all? Ain’t she the true heir of Ragnar? Don’t that matter to you? He was your friend. We all know that.”
He grimaces. “I can’t fix everything. If all goes as planned, we won’t even see the Obsidians. Probably just the rubble they’ve left behind. But oddly enough, they’ve given Mars time to breathe. I wish them well in their war against the Dominion, and I wish you well in your travels. Your ship will leave tomorrow at 0500. Go home. Personally, I’d give anything to do that.”
I leave itchy with anger, and feeling small as a tick’s prick. Somehow I thought it’d go different, because he was a Red. Is a Red. Because I’m a Red. Is it because he knows I’m Gamma? I thought he’d see my spirit, my pluck, and pack me in with the rest of the cargo the drones are loading onto his ship. But no. My chance to matter flowed down the drain with the parasite.
