Constantine stares at me for a long moment. Then he narrows his eyes, and in that gaze is a cold anger I’ve never seen. Now I can tell that the paint on his face is smudged because he’s been crying. Through the bond between us, his rage spikes.
What are you doing here?he says, his voice snarling. He must be even drunker than I thought, if he has only now noticd me.
I didn’t see you in your bed, I tell him.So I came in to investigate. Seemed reasonable, after your eventful night. Why aren’t you back in the palace?
Am I obliged to tell you everything, my little Skyhunter?Even in my mind, his voice sounds slurred and careless.
How can I protect you if I don’t know where you are?
So interested in protecting me today.He laughs once and turns his back to me again.Get out.
I hesitate, my curiosity locking me in place as my eyes dart up to the maps, then to the keys again, then back to this unsteady Premier. The assassination attempt really did get to him, after all.
A tempting thought emerges: I could kill him here. No windows, no one else here to protect him. It’s likely that no one knows this room exists except for the Premier. Everyone trusts me with him, given the very public way I just saved his life. But here he is alone and weak, a dying young man left to face the Skyhunter, the near-indestructible weapon he has created. I could cut his throat and flee in the middle of the night. Grab the keys and free my Striker friends. By the time anyone else finds him, we’ll all be long gone. What delicious irony it would be. The urgethat fills me is so strong that my fists tighten, every bit of my body wanting to move forward.
When I don’t leave, Constantine looks skeptically at me.You want to kill me, he says through our bond.
I say nothing.
Of course you do. Everyone does.He gives me a bitter smile.You should have just done it during the dance. You would’ve gotten to me faster than that girl.He turns his back again.Go ahead, then. Do it, and flee this hall. Just remember—if you can’t find your mother by the time I’m reported missing, my soldiers will slice her throat. So risk her if you like.
Constantine’s words cut me like knife after knife. Again and again, this is the damn truth that keeps me captive. If I kill Constantine now, my mother will almost certainly die. Caitoman will look for his brother in the morning, as will the rest of his advisors. I can try to get to my mother before then. Maybe Red and Jeran will. But the risk is far too great.
You know I can’t, I say.
He stares at me, his eyes reflecting the fire of the lanterns, before turning back to his maps. My gaze follows his.
These are the artifacts you’ve ordered to be uncovered, I tell him.You’ve been studying them for a long time.
I half expect Constantine to command me out of the room again. But he seems lost in thought, his hands running idly over the papers on the table.
My father first discovered mentions of those relics in the Early Ones’ writing, he finally replies, as if talking to himself.
His father. I was only a child when the late Premier swept the Federation’s armies across the middle of our continent—but even as a little girl, I could remember the adults around me talking in hushed, worried tones about the Federation’s advancing armies. I could recall mymother saying to my father,And what happens if that man turns his sights on Basea?on evenings when they thought I was just playing with my wooden toys.
Why so much interest?I ask Constantine now. I’ve moved closer to the keys. My hand clenches and unclenches at my side.Is this truly about powering your Federation with their energy?
He turns his face up to the large map tapestry covering one of the walls.
In the brief silence between us, I think the Premier has forgotten that I’m here. The emotions flowing through our bond are a confusing jumble, a storm where before there was only his coldness and cruelty.
I’m finally close enough to the keys. I hesitate for just a moment, letting myself quietly memorize the pattern imprinted on the metal.
Constantine doesn’t answer right away. But when he speaks again, he says,I loved my mother.
And in a sudden rush, one of his memories sears bright in my mind, drowning out the dark tide that had threatened to consume us both. For an instant, I pause in my memorization.
I wince, blinking, as the tiny room vanishes. When I open my eyes, I find myself in the body of a young boy squealing with laughter as he runs with his younger brother, still a small thing toddling about. I recognize Caitoman immediately in the memory—already stockier than Constantine, even as a tiny child. The boys chase each other down the hall, shouts echoing, until they reach a corridor where they see their father standing at the end of it. The old Premier looks in his prime, strong and formidably built, the figure that Caitoman inherited but Constantine failed to. He’s talking in low voices with his advisors. From this distance, I can hear one of the advisors murmuring to the Premier.
“I’m sure your wife and new son will be fine. It is written in the stars.”
New son?
Caitoman halts, his gaze shy at the sight of his father. Constantine stops too, then gestures for his brother to follow him down a different hall. They chase each other through the maze of the palace; the farther they get from their father, the more at ease they seem to be.
Eventually, the boys double back and find themselves heading down a dimmer corridor. Constantine has pulled ahead, alone for a few minutes while his brother chases after him.
Here he slows, then stops as he wanders to a slightly ajar bedroom door. He peers into its darkness, where he catches a glimpse of his mother lying in the bed, midwives buzzing around her.
