Iron Gold (Red Rising Saga 4)

here’d you get the money?” I ask.

“Aunt Victra.”

“She gave it to you?”

He frowns. “No, she lent it to me.”

“Really? Wait. At what interest rate?”

“Sixty percent.”

I burst out laughing. “Well, that’s one way to learn a lesson.” He frowns again. It’s startling how quickly I can affect his confidence. I’m used to soldiers, not children. I set a hand on his shoulder. “How much did you borrow?”

“Five hundred credits.”

“How much do you owe now?”

“Eleven hundred.”

“Never get in debt. That’s the lesson your aunt is teaching you.” He nods sagely. I rise to my feet and trace a hand along the bike’s fuselage. I should leave, but I don’t want to. Not yet.

His eyes are fixed on its fuselage. “I made it for us to share,” he says quietly. He takes the ring of magnetic keys and pulls one off. He hands it to me. I hold the key in my hand and look down at him. I feel like I’ve been punched in the heart.

“You want to show me how it rides?” I ask.

A grin splits his face.

We roar along a narrow path through the trees, curving back and forth, going deeper into the forest till the path spits us out into a hidden cove. Pax drives us out over the lake, the bike hovering a half meter above the water. Near the center of the lake, I tap his shoulder and point to one of the many archipelagoes. We land the bike there and dismount. He joins me in sitting on a log and we look back across the lake to the house where our friends sleep. Earth hangs overhead. The water laps against the log. My son picks at the moss that grows between us.

“You’re leaving again,” he says. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes. I wanted to say goodbye.”

He’s silent for a long moment. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either. But I have to.”

“Why?”

“I wish I had an easy answer for you, Pax.”

He stares at the reflection of Earth in the water. “Why can’t you send someone else?”

“Some things you have to do yourself.”

“It’s not fair.” He shakes his head and I notice the silent tears streaming down his cheeks. “You just got back.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But one day, you will understand what it means to be responsible for the lives of others.” I try to put an arm around him, but he pushes away.

“It’s not fair. Not to me. Not to Gran. Not to Mother. She needs you here. She won’t say it, but she does. You don’t know what it’s like when you’re gone. You don’t care.”

“Of course I care.”

He crosses his arms. “If you cared, then you would stay.”

I want more than anything to give him what he wants, what he needs. I feel the erosion of my credibility in his eyes. And I wish I could explain how he is right—a father should be there for his son. My father should have been there for me. I hated him for leaving us. For dying on the scaffold in his failed rebellion. “I’ll come back,” I say.

“No.” He shakes his head and looks away. “You won’t.”