“Of course, you know their names,” he says. “Strabo…well, he’s taking a long nap. I tried to make it short, but he was very tough and not very likable. Honestly, you can’t imagine what he was doing, or to whom.” Cassius’s eyes flare. “Let’s just say his life was the second thing he lost.”
Armor alone doesn’t explain how he accessed my quarters without my Praetorians noticing. How he can sit here without the security teams seeing him on the feeds, or how he could have gotten on the ship at all. Of course, there are secondary entrances built into my rooms. Two that the Praetorians know and guard. And one only two other people know about: Horatia and Pytha.
“Pytha,” I mutter. “You told her about Atlas.”
“I did.”
I close my eyes in anger. “Rather presumptuous of her to let you in.”
“She only wants to help you. I only want to help you. You’re no Strabo after all.”
I keep my distance. My hand rests on my razor. “So that’s why you’re traipsing around the system with Darrow, why you saved him on Mercury, helped him over Venus. To help me.”
Cassius watches my hand on my razor.
“Lysander, I am here to help you. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have hidden in a closet and burst out while you were meditating upside down practicing Mithridatism—or whatever new strange hobby you have. At any rate, do you think Pytha would have let me aboard if she thought I meant you any harm?”
He’s making an effort for it to feel like old times. Only it isn’t. Not just because of all the deeds between us, but because he is far more dangerous than he ever was.
“No,” I confess. “Though the fact that she left that decision in your hands is…troubling. If you aren’t going to kill me, why not ditch the armor?”
“Your drags. I imagine I’m the only person the Praetorians hate more than they hate Darrow. He is the enemy, so there is a measure of professional respect for him, no doubt. Me? Well, I betrayed the company. Shamed them by getting the Sovereign.”
“History is not kind to Olympic Knights who break their oaths, is it? Most get the Kiss of a Thousand,” I say. I wouldn’t want that for my worst enemy, much less Cassius.
He pats his armor. “I like my skin where it is. Thank you.” He smiles. “Now, can we talk?”
“If you wanted to talk, why didn’t you come—”
“To the meeting? Wasn’t invited. Diomedes wouldn’t let me attend. Apparently it was for Imperators only, and no one’s rallied behind my banner in a long time. But I did hear what was said, for what it’s worth.” He raises his eyebrows. “Not going to sit. All right. I’ll stand.” He stands, feigning ease as he strides away from the couch to admire the room. “You redecorated. It’s quite stately now. Far less spartan.”
“I nearly forgot. You’ve been here before.”
He nods at the leading question. “Darrow brought me up from the brig when he was sailing on Luna. We spent the night watching old videos of ourselves at the Institute, drinking scotch. Or was it bourbon?Scotch. It was smoky. Regardless, I remember Darrow hadn’t had a chance to adjust the decor. Fabii’s blood was still wet on the bridge deck. These are nice.” He strokes the wooden walls and peers down some of the hallways. “A library too. Knowing you, I suppose there’s a garden somewhere.”
“Three doors down to the left. If they notice Pytha is hijacking the feeds of the cameras, this will end very badly for you,” I say.
“I trust her competence. Obviously you do too. This ship is a monster. TheArchimedesmust have felt like a very small prison for you. This is quite a home, one fit for a Lune.”
I shrug. It’s hard to keep my guard up around Cassius. “Truthfully, I haven’t spent much time here. TheArchimedes.Well, that was home.”
“Not a prison like you said?”
“No. Not all the time,” I confess. “I often miss it.”
“It could be home again,” he says. “After this.”
I smile. “You haven’t changed. Ever the romantic, at the expense of any kind of realism. It’s your charm.”
“I do that. Don’t I?” he says, a little dark. “Suppose that’s natural for a man who makes so many mistakes.” He spots the display case that dominates the far wall. “Is that what I think it is?” He approaches the case. “May I?”
“It won’t bite.”
“Unlike its owner.” He picks up the spiked helmet of Ares from the case. He turns it in his hands. “I haven’t seen this in a long time.”
“I lost three men salvaging that from Sevro’s room. The whole place was booby-trapped.”
“Far less than Aja and I lost taking it from its first owner,” he says.
