Morning Star: Book III of the Red Rising Trilogy (67 page)

I don’t answer her.

“You find a map?” I hear Cassius ask Antonia through the crate.

“And a jammer for cameras,” she says. “I’ll push. You range, if you can manage.”

“I can manage. Let’s go.”

The jammer
pops
and the gravRig moves, taking us along with them. If Sevro and Mustang were not atop me, I could crouch and put my back into the lid, but their weight pins me down in the small container. It’s hot. Smells like sweat. Hard to breathe. I’m helpless in here. Unable to stop them as they use the path I cleared for Cassius. Unable to stop them as they push us across the deserted hangar, up the ramp into the ship and begin preflight checks.
“Shuttle S-129, you are clear for departure, stand by
for pulseShield deactivation,”
the flight officer says over the com from the distant bridge as the engines prime.
“You are go for launch.”

Out from the belly of the war ship, my enemies smuggle me away from the comfort of my friends,

the safety of my people, and the might of my army as it prepares for war. I hold my breath, expecting Orion’s voice to come over the com. To ground the ship. For ripWings to shoot her engines out.

None do. Somewhere, my mother will be making tea, wondering where I am, if I am safe. I pray she

cannot feel this pain across the void, this fear that consumes me despite all my vaunted strength and foolish bluster. I’m afraid, despite what I know. Not just for myself, but for Mustang.

I hear Antonia and Cassius speaking beyond the crate. Cassius has broadcast an emergency signal

from the craft. A few moments later, a cold voice crackles over the com.

“
Sarpedon
shuttle, this is the LDC assault-runner Kronos; you have transmitted an Olympic distress
signal. Please identify yourself.”

“
Kronos,
this is the Morning Knight. Clearance code 7-8-7-Echo-Alpha-9-1-2-2-7. I have escaped from imprisonment aboard the enemy’s flagship and am requesting escort and docking clearance.

Antonia au Severus-Julii is with me. We have valuable cargo. The enemy is in pursuit.”

There’s a pause.

“Register, code accepted. Hold on the com. The next voice you hear will be the Protean Knight’s.”
A moment later Aja’s voice rumbles through the ship, filling me with dread. So she did survive the waste to find her way back home.

“Cassius? You’re alive.”

“For now.”

“What is your cargo?”

“The Reaper, Virginia, and the body of Ares,” Antonia says excitedly.

“The body…I want to see them.”

Boots thud toward my container. The top opens and Cassius hauls Mustang out. Then he hauls me

out and tosses me to the ground before the hologram. Small and dark in the holographic projector,

Aja watches us with otherworldly calm. Antonia keeps Sevro’s gun trained on my head as Cassius pulls up Sevro’s head by his Mohawk to show his face.

“Goryhell, Bellona.”
Aja says, excitement entering her voice.
“Goryhell. You’ve done it. The
Sovereign will want to see you in the citadel.”

“Before I do, I need you to assure me that no harm will come to Virginia.”

“What are you talking about?” Antonia asks, wary how close Cassius stands near her with his razor.

“She’s a traitor.”

“And she’ll be imprisoned,” Cassius says. “Not executed. Not tortured. I need your word, Aja. Or I turn this ship around. Darrow killed your sister. Do you want vengeance or not?”

“You have my word,”
Aja says.
“No harm will befall her. I am sure Octavia will agree. We need her
to settle things with the Rim. We’re sending squadrons to intercept your pursuit. Re-direct to vector
41’13’25, circle the moon and await contact from the
Lion of Mars
for docking instructions. We can’t
clear your ship to land moonside. But ArchGovernor Augustus will be joining the Sovereign in the
Citadel within the hour. I don’t think he’ll mind offering you a ride down.”

“The ArchGovernor is here?” Cassius asks, “I don’t see his ships.”

“Of course he’s here,”
Aja replies.
“He knew Darrow was never going to Mars. His entire fleet is on
the far side of Luna, waiting for them to attack my father’s. This is his trap.”

Mustang and I are dragged down the cargo plank of the shuttle by Obsidians in black armor, each nearly as large as Ragnar and wearing the badge of the lion. I try to kick up at them, but they jam two-meter long ionPikes down into my stomach, electrocuting me. My muscles cramp. Electricity screaming through me. They toss me down to the deck, pulling me up by my hair so I’m on my knees

staring down at the body of Sevro. Mercifully his eyes are shut. His mouth pink from smeared blood.

Mustang tries to rise. A muffled thump as an Obsidian hits her in the stomach. Putting her back on her knees, gasping for breath. Cassius has been forced to his knees as well.

Antonia joins Lilath, who stands before us in black armor. A screaming gold skull on either shoulder and another in the center of the breastpiece. Down her sides are human rib-bones embedded in the armor. The first bonerider in all her barbaric finery. The Jackal’s Sevro. Head shaved. Quiet eyes sunken in a small, pinched face that likes little of what it sees in the world. Behind her, tower ten young Peerless Scarred, heads shaved like hers for war. “Scan them,” she orders.

“What the hell is this?” Cassius asks.

“Jackal’s orders.” Lilath watches carefully as the Golds scan me. Cassius suffers the indignity as Lilath continues. “Boss doesn’t want tricks.”

“I have the Sovereign’s warrant,” he says. “We’re to take the Reaper and Virginia to the Citadel.”

“Understood. We received the same orders. Bound there soon.” She motions Cassius to stand as her

men clear them. No bugs or devices or radiation tracking. Cassius dusts his knees off. I remain on mine as Lilath peers at Sevro, who one of the Obsidians has dragged down the ramp. She feels his pulse and smiles. “A fine kill, Bellona.”

One Bonerider, a lofty, striking man with blazing eyes and a statue’s cheekbones makes a little cooing noise. Tattooed fingers with painted nails tap his bottom lip. “How much for Barca’s bones?”

he asks.

“Not for sale,” Cassius replies.

The man flashes an arrogant smile. “Everything’s for sale, my goodman. Ten million credits for a

rib.”

“No.”

“One hundred million. Come now, Bellona…”

“My title,
Legate Valii-Rath,
is Morning Knight. You may address me as sir or not at all. Ares’s body is property of the state. It’s not mine to sell. But if you ask me about it again, I will have more than words with you, sir.”

“Will you have a rut?” Tactus’s elder brother asks. “Is that what you mean?” I’ve never met the

annoyingly aristocratic creature before, and I’m glad for it. Tactus seems the better of the bunch.

“You gorydamn savage,” Mustang says through bloody teeth.

“Savage?” Tactus’s brother asks. “Such a pretty mouth. That’s not how you should use it.” Cassius

takes a step toward the man. The other Boneriders reach for their blades.

“Tharsus. Shut up.” Lilath tilts her head, listening to a com in her ear as he returns to her side, lifting his nose. “Yes, my liege,” she says into her com. “Barca is dead. I checked.”

Antonia steps forward. “Is that Adrius? Let me speak with him.”

She holds up a hand to the taller woman. “Antonia wants to speak with you.” She pauses. “He says it can wait. Tharsus, Novas, uncuff the Reaper and spread his arms.”

“What about Virginia?” Tharsus asks.

“Touch her, you die,” Cassius says. “That’s all you need to know.” There’s fear behind Cassius’s eyes, even if he doesn’t show it. He never would have brought her here if he could have helped it.

Unlike the Sovereign’s men, the Jackal is liable to do anything at anytime. Aja’s guarantee of safety suddenly feels very frail. Why would the Sovereign send us here?

“No one will touch your prizes,” Lilath says, voice that eerie one note. “Except the Reaper.”

“I’m to deliver him…”

“We know. But my master requires compensation for past grievances. The Sovereign granted him

permission while you were landing. Precautionary measures.” She flashes her datapad. Cassius reads the order and goes a little pale, looking back at me. “Now may we proceed, or do you do care to fuss further?”

Cassius has no choice. He depresses the remote. The metal cuffs locking my hands to my chest open. Tharsus and Novas are there to grab my arms and haul them to the sides, wrapping their whip

form razors around each wrist, pulling taut till my shoulders grind in their sockets.

“You’re going to let them do this?” Mustang snarls at Cassius. “What happened to your honor? It is as false as the rest of you?” He’s about to say something, but she spits at his feet.

Antonia smiles repugnantly, captivated by the sight of me in pain. Lilath takes my razor from Cassius and walks away toward the ripWings that escorted us into the hangar. There, she holds my slingBlade up into one of the smoldering engines.

“Tell me, Reaper, did you piddle my baby brother. Is that why he was so besotted?” Tharsus asks as we wait. His perfumed locks fall over his eyes. He alone has not shaved his head. “Well, you’re not the first to plow that field, if you catch my flow.”

I stare straight ahead.

“Is he right or left handed?” Lilath calls over.

“Right,” Cassius replies.

“Pollox, tourniquet,” Lilath instructs.

I realize what they intend and my blood runs cold. It feels like it’s happening to someone else. Even when the rubber tightens around my right forearm and the needle-pricks of sensation tingle through the tips of my fingers.

Then I hear my enemy.

The clicking of his black boots.

The delicate shift in everyone’s mannerisms.

The fear.

The Boneriders part to watch their master enter out of the mouth of the main hall to the hangar bay, flanked by a dozen more towering Gold bodyguards with shaved heads. Each tall as Victra. Gold

skulls laugh on their collars, on the handles of their razors. Bones rattle on their shoulders, finger joints taken from their enemies. Taken from Lorn, from Fitchner, from my Howlers. These are the killers of my time. Their arrogance drips from them. As they look at me, it isn’t hate I see in their violent eyes, but a fundamental absence of empathy.

I told the Jackal I didn’t hate him. That was a lie. It’s all I feel watching him walk across the deck, the pistol he killed my uncle with hanging on a magnetic strip holster on his thigh. His armor gold.

Roaring with Gold lions. Human ribs implanted along the sides of the torso, each carved with details I cannot make out. Hair combed and parted on the side. His silver stylus in his hand, twirling, twirling.

Antonia takes a step toward him, but stops herself when she sees he’s walking to Sevro and not to her.

“Good. The bones are intact.” After he’s examined Sevro’s bloody body, he stands over his sister.

“Hello, Virginia. Nothing to say?”

“What is there to say?” she asks through gritted teeth. “What words have I for a monster?”

“Hm.” He takes her jaw between his forefingers, causing Cassius’s hand to drift to his razor. Lilath and the Boneriders would cut him to pieces if he even drew it. “It is us against the world,” the Jackal says softly. “Do you remember telling me that?”

“No.”

“We were young. Mother had just died. I couldn’t stop crying. And you said you’d never leave me.

But then Claudius would invite you somewhere. And you’d forget all about me. And I’d stay home in

a big old house and cry, because I knew even then I was alone.” He taps her nose. “These next hours are going to test who you are as a person, sister. I’m excited to see what’s beneath all the bluster.”

He moves on to me, loosening my muzzle. Even on my knees my physicality dwarfs him. Fifty kilograms heavier. Still, his presence is like the sea: strange and vast and dark and full of hidden depths and power. His silence, his roar. I see his father in him now. He tricked me, guessing my play on Luna, and now I’m afraid all I’ve done is going to unravel.

“And here we are again,” he says. I do not reply. “Do you recognize these?”

He runs his stylus down the ribs in his armor, coming closer so I can see the details. “My dear father thought a man’s deeds make him. I rather think it’s his enemies. Do you like it?” He steps even closer. One of the ribs shows a helmet with a spiked sunburst. Another rib shows a head in a box.

The Jackal is wearing Fitchner ’s rib cage.