In many ways, this part proved easier for him than the family dinner. Though he wanted nothing to do with his mission or his brother, duty felt comfortable for him. Routine. Pretending to be a normal son while his mother eyed him with worry over the dinner table felt distinctly uncomfortable. Dining on roasted duck plated with priceless porcelain, while his comrades scraped beans from a can, nauseated him too much to eat.
“The coming year matters more than any other time of your life,” his father said. “If we aren't invited to the summit, we'll lose our footing on the global stage. Bringing the Followers to heel is crucial. We cannot leave the cancer growing within our bodies. The Phaedra insists that we destroy the Followers’ network before the oceanic colonies begin their talks.”
That was the wildest thing his father had ever said. The Followers might not have much power in the empire, but they flowed through every vein of the country. They established their churches all over this continent before the first Phaedra ruled as emperor. The religion grew up from the chaos of the Collapse when war and poverty destroyed society. When the wealthy Old Ones abandoned the mess their corruption created in a final killing blow to everyone trying to survive. Since that time, the Followers sought to rebalance their world.
But the Phaedra planned to destroy a group that survived the Collapse of an entire world? And in only a year?
Zayne clamped down on the inside of both cheeks to keep himself from scoffing.
“This is a historic opportunity for us,” his father said. “The oceanic colonies possess a refined version of PXI that's gentle on the body and heals wounds within hours to days. So, treat the prisoner and Becka Stiles like your own personal mission to end the war. We need this medicine.”
Father never shared that with them before. Zayne heard the rumors, but assumed they were unfounded. The Old Ones established three styles of colonies tomaximize the chance of humanity’s survival on Earth: in the ocean, on the land, and in the stars.
As far as anyone knew, the people living in the satellite colony died long ago. The Old Ones didn’t allow them the technology to travel through space, and anyone with a telescope could see the shredded debris of the massive stations that hovered above Earth. They were likely stranded up there when the end came for them.
The oceanic colonies, on the other hand, were alive and well. They didn’t communicate with the rest of the world often, but when they did, they positioned themselves as thriving, though in need of resources to remain that way. Given the dangers of living beneath the ocean and the difficulty in escaping those colonies to find the Old Ones, they must have been entrusted with the refined PXI. Perhaps, even more technology beyond that.
Ciondo shouldn’t be invited to that summit. Medicine like that in the hands of the Phaedra meant no warring against him again. He'd heal his soldiers and deny the lifesaving medicine to anyone else, unless it benefited him. Those colonies should not trust the Ciondian Empire with this kind of power.
“I have concerns about this operation,” Luke said.
Zayne snorted. “Concerns about me, I'm sure.”
For the first time since Zayne returned home from war, his older brother met his eyes. “Yes. Concerns about you.”
“Enough.” His father slammed his fist against the table, eyes shooting between the two brothers. “The Phaedra's spoken, and we'll follow his commands without complaint.”
Luke's nostrils flared as he turned a slow gaze to their father. “Sir, I merely want to discuss guardrails, not undermine the Phaedra's will. My brother is idealistic and soft-hearted. He needs help with the woman.”
“Soft-hearted.” The High General never took sides between them, but he narrowed his eyes at this. Glare locked on Luke, their father jerked the collar of Zayne's shirt down, exposing the slinking tails of the snake tattoos. “You know what he did to earn this badge. He's proven himself to his Phaedra. You're acting like a brat.”
Only after his father released his shirt did Zayne realize he'd frozen in deference. Heart, body, mind—all frozen so well that he didn't feel the aversion to ripping the covering off his nightmares until seconds later. And just as quickly, that disappeared. Mist in the air. Fleeting and inconsequential.
His brother ran his hand over his face and sighed, softening his voice now as he looked at Zayne. “We all know this is challenging for you. Now is the time to ask for help.”
It almost sounded like Luke cared. Almost. “Stay out of my way. That'll help.”
Father groaned and sat back. “The Phaedra will never choose one of you as High General if you cannot manage your temper. Control yourselves and get along.”
His brother wanted the position more than anything. It was the last thing Zayne wanted, but he needed the power of the High General to destroy this regime. “You're right.” Zayne dipped his head. “I'm sorry, Father.”
“As am I.” His brother lowered his head more than Zayne. Annoying.
“I've lost patience for your bickering,” the High General said. “It's been three years. You two need to move on. Zayne is marrying Mellie for Phaedra's sake. Leave it in the past.”
Rarely did anyone allude to what happened, and the mention choked the air from the room. Their problems did not begin with what Luke did three years ago, and Zayne moving on to a new engagement erased nothing.
“Can we focus now?” Their father asked.
“Yes, sir,” Luke and Zayne said in tandem, staring at the table.
“Dr. Cooper will administer a psychological assessment of the prisoner. You'll both escort her on the train with a full security team.”
Never. He'd kill the doctor if he touched Kira. How could his father expect Zayne to go see that monster?
Even Luke, for how much he hated Zayne, managed to look disturbed.
“Zayne is going?” Luke's brows pinched.
