Traitor Born (Page 7)

Hours later, I’m virtually in the same position, seated at the small table, when the door opens and an Exo officer enters. She’s probably in her early thirties, fit, with a firstborn sword moniker shining golden from the back of her left hand.

“Roselle St. Sismode,” she says, pulling out a metal chair across from me and taking a seat.

“It’s Roselle Sword,” I reply.

“How about just Roselle?” she asks with a small smile. “I’m Vaughna Jenns. I’m in charge of this investigation.” She sets a metallic mug of what smells like coffee on the table in front of her and pushes it in my direction. “Thirsty?”

I am, but she’s a Sword. She could be working for my mother and brother. “No. Thank you.” I give her a polite smile.

“I can take a sip of it first, if you’re worried.” She leans back in her chair.

I pretend I don’t know what she means. “Did you locate the man that dove into the sea?”

“We recovered two bodies from your apartment, but as for a third, that one seems to have gotten away.”

I cross my arms, wishing I’d followed the killer off the cliff. Not knowing for sure if my brother ordered the strike stirs intense fear within me. If it wasn’t by Gabriel’s order, then I have more to worry about than the power struggle with family. I’ve committed treason for the Gates of Dawn. I’ve made an enemy of Grisholm by usurping Malcolm Burton’s position in the Halo Palace. I’ve done things in the name of my Fate as a secondborn soldier that could lead to retribution. I’m also a high-profile figure in the Salloway Munitions Conglomerate—it’s face. “What Fate were they from?”

“We don’t know. Their monikers were removed.”

“Let me see the bodies. Maybe I’ll recognize them without their masks.” She complies, using her moniker’s holographic screens to show me the bodies in my apartment. They’re both young—my age or younger. I don’t recognize either man and exhale in frustration. “They’re not familiar.”

Firstborn Jenns extinguishes the images. “Can you think of a reason why someone would want to kill you?” she asks with a straight face.

“We’re at war. I’m a Sword.”

“You’re in the Halo Palace. The Virtue—or his heir—would make for a better target than you.”

“Find the third assassin, and we’ll have our answers,” I reply.

She purses her lips. Perhaps she expects some kind of theory from me? She must know that if I were to accuse my mother or brother of plotting my death, I could be convicted of treason. I’m secondborn. I don’t have the right to make any unsubstantiated claims or statements against firstborns—especially not The Sword.

She sighs. Lifting her left hand, she touches the light of her golden holographic sword. The moniker opens a holographic screen, and she retrieves the statement I gave to the Iono officers hours before. “So, this is your story. Three men entered your apartment to murder you. You killed two of them—”

“No, the first was shot by the second. The second I stabbed in the neck with the first’s knife.”

“Quite right. And the third, you . . .”

“Shot in the shoulder.”

“Where did you get the weapon?”

“The second assassin dropped it when I stabbed him.”

“With the first one’s knife?” she asks. I nod. “And you were able to shoot the third . . .”

“In the shoulder,” we say in unison.

“That’s quite a feat,” Firstborn Jenns says. “Three against one, and you were unharmed except for a small cut on your neck?”

“My mechadome helped.”

She snorts skeptically. The door behind her opens. Dune enters, making the small room feel tiny. Firstborn Jenns jumps to her feet, nearly spilling the coffee. “Commander Kodaline.”

“Firstborn.” Dune acknowledges her with a slight nod. “The questioning is finished for this evening. If you have anything more, you’ll submit it to me.” He turns to me. I don’t move. Fear and devotion hover just behind my serene mask.

“Yes. Of course,” Firstborn Jenns acquiesces. She’s clearly intimidated, but if I had to guess, it’s more by his presence—the raw power in him—than by his position.

“Roselle, please join me,” Dune orders.

I rise from the chair, sore from not having moved in hours, and leave the room with him. We walk the bland corridors of the security floor side by side. Dune shows me to a lift. Unlike the others, its walls are made of glass. It takes us upward within a shaft gilded in gold leaf. The air feels thinner, but mostly from the awkwardness of spending my entire life with him, only to have been kept apart for more than a year now, unable to tell him about all the devastating events I encountered as a soldier. An invisible wall divides us. He’s a stranger I’ve known all my life—a spy. I don’t know what was real between us and what wasn’t. I feel a mix of emotions—hope, desperation, fear, betrayal, and despair. I struggle to contain it all.

To give the illusion of being unaffected, I focus on the mundane. His hair is pulled back in a tight knot, making him appear younger than his thirty-nine years. Earlier today, he was wearing an Exo uniform—a promotion from the Iono uniform he wore as my mentor at the Sword Palace. Now his formal attire is of Sword aristocracy. He could rival my father, Kennet, in elegance.

He notices my puzzled expression. “I was at a Secondborn Pre-Trial event hosted by a tremendous bore when I was pulled away.”

“You look nice.” I glance away from him, hoping my hero worship isn’t apparent in my tone. “Who was the bore?”

“Firstborn Harkness Ambersol,” he replies. “Have you met him? I don’t recall.”

“No, but I’ve heard of him.” If Harkness had been to the Sword Palace, I wasn’t introduced to him. He’s firstborn and I’m secondborn. I was kept away from most social gatherings at the Sword residence for that reason. “Isn’t Harkness next in line for the position of The Sword, should either Gabriel or I be unable to claim the honor?”

“He is. Your friend was there as well. He asked me about you.”

“Which friend? I have so many,” I lie. I have two—Hawthorne and Clifton. Maybe Reykin. Maybe none. I can’t decide. They all come with strings.

“Exo Salloway. He asked me to tell you that he misses you.”

“Was Clifton holding on to the arm of the loveliest Diamond-Fated starlet in the room when he told you that?” My smile is ironic, imaging the handsome Exo Sword with his movie-star good looks.

“He was quite alone this evening and adamant that I deliver his message.” A definite frown accompanies Dune’s answer. A year ago, I would’ve been devastated by any inkling of my mentor’s disapproval. Now I’m surprised to find that I’m somewhat annoyed. Clifton has done more for me than I can repay.

“I miss him, too,” I reply, wanting to see Dune’s reaction. His frown deepens.

The transparent elevator suddenly exits the opaque shaft and travels through the open air toward the golden halo-shaped crown that hovers over the rest of the Palace. The night sky is glorious with glowing stars. For several moments, all I can think about is how beautifully decadent the city of Purity is at night. From the skyscrapers that hover far off the ground, to those that spiral and change their shapes before my eyes, the city shimmers with opulent extravagance.