I linger as the two men make their way from the brig. Thalia is older than I was when my parents died. Younger than I was when Darrow killed Octavia. It wakes my sympathy. If I keep her alive, perhaps I’ll have paid some of my debt back to Diomedes.
Gaia is another matter now. When last I saw her, she hid her cunning behind a guise of senility. But grief has broken the woman. She whispers the same phrase over and over. The same phrase a barbarian murmured to a Roman declaiming the price of surrender long ago.
Vae victis. Woe to the vanquished.
50
LYSANDER
Heavy Is the Head
“So, what you’re sayingis…” Fá trails off after Atlas tells him the new order of things.
“Your reign will only last three weeks instead of three years, thanks to Lysander here,” Atlas clarifies.
The king sits across the table from Atlas and me in his stateroom. I watch his huge hands, especially the metal one, and wait for violence to erupt as he learns the curtailed length of his reign. Instead, he throws back his head and laughs in sheer delight. A great weight sloughs off him and tears come to his eye. Atlas leans over to squeeze his shoulder.
“Thank Jove,” Fá says.
He grimaces when he sees my surprise and taps his monstrous crown with a metal finger.
“Do you think I enjoy the weight of this,DominusLune?” He pushes it toward me. “The worship of asteroid-dwelling savages? The slaughter of the Society’s civilians? The venal backbiting among Darrow’s Volk? No. A single day under the sun with sand between my toes is worth ten years on a throne. One performance ofGiulio CesareorParsifaldoes more for my heart than ten thousand chanting my name. I need no honors. I crave no power. Let me be rid of it all.”
I’m stunned. “You’re not angry in the least? You helm the greatest Obsidian army since Kuthul. Power the nations of old Earth could only dream of.”
“War has never been my passion, only my profession,dominus. Once my service to the Society is done, I will retire and live out my dayseating well, attending the opera, watching races, and swimming in the sea.”
Fá’s eyes lust for that day. I look back and forth between him and Atlas. “Then what do you get out of this?”
“Satisfaction. Pride that I have done my duty to help ensure a lasting and peaceful Society and the continued advancement of humankind,” he replies. “And for myself, a small pension.”
“What have you promised him?” I ask Atlas.
“Less than he is due, and more than he requested,” Atlas replies. “A penthouse in Hyperion. A seaside retreat on Venus. A pegasus ranch in Switzerland.” Fá’s eyes go distant and dreamy at that one. “A telomerase tank, a carver, a new name, and twenty years of peace.”
“And a daughter,” Fá adds.
Atlas winces. “And a daughter.”
“Volga,” I clarify.
“You should see her, Atlas. She is bright, clever, with a mind like a sponge.”
“Has she joined you in battle?” Atlas asks.
“No, I would not press that upon her. Not this world of killing. She is gentle, in a way. She loves animals. It hurt her, the dragon hunt. But she will have flying ponies soon enough.” He frowns. “She did try to kill me at first, but I reasoned her through it. She saw how often she’s been used, and how I asked nothing of her. But she did join the hunt. It was she who captured their sigil beast. Abraxes. Tricked him right into a trap.” He laughs. “She might be a Valkyrie, but there’s a touch of that freelancer in her too.” He taps his ruined eye. “A worthy man. Oh, Atlas. I think that Gray would have been one of your favorite knives.”
“Does she know about me?” Atlas asks, a little perturbed by Fá’s excitement.
“No. Of course not. She believes the same thing we sold the Volk. That we do this to make a kingdom for Obsidian.” He pauses. “I worry she believes it too much, in a way.”
“And when she discovers that is a lie? Afterward, when you tell her of me?”
Fá brushes off the questions. “She is a creature of the cities. She is practical. She will understand and embrace our new life.”
“Will she understand, though?” Atlas asks.
Fá hesitates. “What do you mean?”
