Iron Gold (Red Rising Saga 4)

WE GATHER GEAR QUICKLY, raiding the Den’s armory for provisions. I watch the city move outside the window as I pause inside the concrete and metal room. Two Red Howlers push a crate of specialized combat armor out the door behind me. “So you know how we’re marching into almost certain death?” Sevro says from behind me.

“I wouldn’t say that,” I reply without turning.

“If we’re to go to Venus, slip past their orbital checkpoints, planetary patrols, and the Ass Lord’s own private army, I need something from you.”

“Name it.”

“I need to see my girls before we go.”

I feel a pang of sympathy. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Neither is yours. They cancel each other out.”

“I want to see Pax too….” I try not to think of his face. Of the betrayal that will be in my son’s eyes. “But the Wardens will look here first, there second.”

“You got Lionguards there,” Sevro says. “Wardens won’t get past them. It’s Augustus House territory.” It’s a good point. “The others can get the Nessus from orbit and we’ll rendezvous. No time wasted…” He looks at me hopefully, and I know whatever I say, he’s going to go.

This constant pull of duty and family. We bear it together, but he bears it naturally. I feel I’m not the father my son needs. I should not leave before telling him I love him. But still I’m afraid to face him. The memory of him in the dueling grotto staring up at me lingers.

“All right, but I go with you.”

“Well, I should hope so, dipshit. You’ve got a son to kiss goodbye.” He claps me on the shoulder, hoists up a drum of ripWing ammunition, and shuffles away. I look out at the window and wonder if Mustang has figured out my play. I wish more than anything that she were not the Sovereign. That I could have her with me. But our duties are different, and they’re what we chose for ourselves. I return to stuffing supplies in a rucksack.

“You know what is funny to me?” Victra’s reflection joins mine in the window. Her jade earrings are brilliant in the pale light. “They think you know what you’re doing.”

“You think I don’t?”

She snorts her answer and looks at the Minotaur helm in Pebble’s hands as she passes us.

“There was always a contingency plan to assassinate him,” I say. “This isn’t some ad hoc stupidity. The pieces are aligned.”

“Haven’t you tried to kill him before?”

“A few times, but not personally.” A pulseFist is jammed into the sack.

“I’ve tried three times,” she says to my surprise. “Assassination is probably the only enterprise where private industry is not more efficient.”

“I have a plan,” I say. In goes a backup razor.

“Of course you do.” She pauses. “Darrow. Have you stopped to think what happens if you die?”

“You saw what happened in the Senate, Victra. I’m not the Rising any longer. It’s evolved past me. I am obsolete. And that’s a good thing. Virginia is more important than I am. Hell, Dancer is more important than I am. My purpose is singular—to remove the threats to the Republic. The Ash Lord is irreplaceable. If I kill him, then the Saud and Carthii and the last great houses will destroy each other in the power vacuum.”

“Atalantia will still be alive.”

“Atalantia is not her father,” I say. “She’s more Aja than her father. A soldier. Not a general.” I place four ion detonators in the bag.

“You always did want to be a martyr. Didn’t you?”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” I say curtly. “This is about responsibility. The Republic can’t survive with war always snapping at its heels. This division is because I took too long. I told them to trust me with the war. And I haven’t won it yet. But I can, and I will.”

“Fuck the mob. You don’t owe them anything.”

I smile at her. “I wish I could agree with you.”

“Darrow…” She comes close so no one can overhear her. “Have I ever asked you for anything? Then you’ll know how much I mean this: do not take Sevro with you. As a favor to me. Tell him to stay here.”

“He won’t.”