Present day
Eris hoped this was the last time she ever had to become Zoe. It would be a relief to finally put the arms merchant to rest for good. She hated looking at the shifter mask she wore, the carefully braided hairstyle, the clothes that were meant to draw attention.
The loose, airy dress that showed more skin than she was comfortable putting on display. Everything Zoe wore was for show: gold shimmer glistened across her eyelids, contrasting with deep black lipstick; her few makeshift weapons: the little jeweled rings on her fingers, sharp enough to do damage, a hair stick plated in gold that could puncture a vulnerable throat.
Eris stared at the thin metal tips of her rings and imagined ramming one into her brother’s eye.
No. She had to keep him alive for information.
For now.
Zoe was a role she had taken over when she had less of a conscience, an extension of General Discordia without the expectations and the rules that had governed her behavior as Heir to the Archon. It had been easier when she let her anger and grief for Xander consume her—it had still been so raw, so new.
Being cold, heartless Zoe Eirene-X-2 didn’t come easily anymore.
One final time, she told herself.
Eris turned her back on the mirror. Her gaze landed on Xander’s small firewolf carving—the only thing on the table beside her bunk. She ran her fingers over the small figure.
“I’m doing my best, Xander,” she whispered. “I wish you were here with me.”
But she couldn’t even bring her talisman with her. Zoe’s clothes wouldn’t allow it. No fucking pockets.
With a sigh, Eris returned the firewolf to the table and left for the command center. Clo didn’t speak as Eris took her seat in the copilot’s chair. The silence from the other woman reminded her of those days after their last mission, when their relationship had fractured as irreparably as Clo’s leg.
Eris had hidden so much from Clo. She wondered how different their last mission would have gone if she had been upfront about who she was. Maybe it would have changed nothing.
Maybe it would have changed everything.
“The person I lost . . . his name was Xander,” Eris said, not returning Clo’s look. She took a deep breath before continuing. “He was one of my brothers, but he was different from the rest. Kinder, more compassionate. The way he died . . .” She couldn’t finish. “You asked me if I’d be willing to kill Damocles, and I want you to know: if I get the chance to put a blast through his head, I’m taking it.”
Clo nodded once. They went past the Three Sisters’s checkpoint and waited in the queue for clearance into the royal palace’s airspace.
“Be careful,” Clo said finally, gazing down at Macella as they waited for security clearance. “Zelus is getting indications that the Oracle’s security on Tholosian planets has increased in preparation for the truce ceremony.”
“You’re concerned about me?”
Clo pressed her lips together.
Eris almost smiled. She’d take that as a yes.
Rhea entered the command center and approached the captain’s chair. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come along instead of Ariadne?” she asked Eris. “I can keep the soldiers calmer and more acquiescent.”
Ariadne and Nyx, back in their servitor disguises, were the only ones accompanying her. They had to do this fast, without complications. Fewer people were less of a risk.
Eris shook her head. “I don’t want to risk Damocles recognizing your abilities.”
“It’s just that Ari’s nervous,” Rhea confided in a whisper. “With the Oracle on high alert . . .”
“I need Ariadne there because the Oracle is on high alert. She’s the only one who can get around One’s security mechanisms.”
Clo’s eyebrows went up. “You sound like you’re expecting trouble.”
“I’m always expecting trouble. That’s what makes me good at my job.” She glanced at the monitors. “They’re giving you permission to land.”
Clo followed the air lanes down to the same hangar they’d gone through before. She wisely made sure to dock near the exit. It was busier this time, with merchants and suppliers ferrying supplies for the peace talks. All was the bustle of gerulae and mechanics scurrying along the ships like worker ants. Cogs in the greater machine.
Eris tried to stay focused as they followed the security guards up to the palace, Ariadne and Nyx flanking. Eris stared at the soldiers. They would obey no matter how abhorrent their orders. If Damocles told them to shoot all three women in the head, they wouldn’t hesitate.
For the glory of Tholos, they believed.
Even though she’d been there recently, it still felt strange for Eris to breathe in the air of a planet she had once considered home. It was impossible to describe, yet it was so familiar, she’d recognize it anywhere. It was fresher, greener than the stifling-hot air of Nova. Sometimes, she missed the gentle scent: the trees swaying in the wind, the cool air coming off the distant sea. Nova demanded too much. It wasn’t for the weak. And sometimes, in her quiet moments working with the resistance, she pretended she was right back here: in the palace square, breathing in the scent of sea salt.
That grand palace rising above them, made up of the bones of creatures her forefathers had slaughtered, was a symbol of everything this Empire stood for. Everything they worshiped. Letum, Bel, Rem, Salutem, Phobos, Algea, and Soter. Death, War, Honor, Survival, Fear, Agony, and Salvation. The glory of the Empire and sacrificing to their gods were all that mattered. She couldn’t let herself forget.
“Negotiare?” The guard’s voice made Eris jump. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped.
Ariadne’s voice sounded through the Pathos: <Is something wrong?>
<No.> Eris straightened her shoulders as she followed the guard once more. <I’m just distracted.>
<Better get undistracted,> Nyx muttered. <I worked my ass off not to die here.>
Eris was surprised when the guard led her to the private wing of the palace. The compound had changed so little since she had left. The same shining floors with no speck of dirt. The walls carved with scenes of their many conquests, offerings to the Gods of Death and War. The views from the portholes and the particular tinge of purple entered the overhead lights this time of day, to better complement the coming twilight. How could she still miss a place so horrible, that had caused so much pain?
She risked a short prayer to Letum herself, for despite everything, Death was her patron. Her fingers automatically went to her throat but found only the delicate gold chain of something Zoe would wear, rather than her scythes.
The gods would not help her there.
The guards posted outside Damocles’s room snapped to attention as she approached. “General Damocles is expecting her,” Eris’s escort said.
The one to her left spoke in a rough, firm voice. “Just her, then.” He gestured to Nyx and Ariadne. “These two can wait in the Star Rise Room.”
Eris had expected this. With the tightened security, no unnecessary detail came in or out of these rooms.
“Of course,” Eris said pleasantly. She took the case with the schematics from Nyx. “Don’t annoy the nice guards, ladies.”
<Be careful,> Ariadne said.
As Ariadne and Nyx were escorted away, the doors slid open.
Damocles sat at a table laden with food. Eris sucked in a breath at the sight of it all, but she schooled her features into polite interest. There were so many delicacies she hadn’t been able to eat since she’d fled this planet. Piles of sugar pears glistening in the soft light. The long, thin tendrils of the Mussuma fruit cut into perfect rounds, its violet flesh begging to be eaten. There was no rehydrated protein in sight. Fresh meat, creamy cheese, skewered meats, freshly baked bread. All foods that would go into rationing now that their resources on Charon were devastated.
Unless, of course, Tholosians were able to access the Evoli planets—by either truce or death.
Eris couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
The room itself was similar to her old quarters. Gigantic bed with a canopy of the royal arms. A chandelier of twisting, shifting holographic lights mirroring the colors of the sunset outside. Smooth walls and floors softened with rugs of living, russet-colored grass. Everything was tasteful, expensive. Completely devoid of Damocles’s actual preferences and personality. Eris doubted he spent much time there at all, except to sleep.
“General,” Eris said. “How lovely to see you again. And in a much quieter setting.”
Damocles stood and Eris bowed as etiquette demanded. It smarted to bare the back of her neck to him. If she hadn’t abandoned her true rank, he would have had to bow to her. She could almost feel that ghost next to her—the person she would have been if she hadn’t left it all behind.
Her brother studied her. “You look dressed for a ball, Zoe. I should have mentioned I preferred for us to meet in private.”
Eris knew he had done that on purpose. To unnerve her, throw her off balance. It was a show of power—nothing more, nothing less. “General, I think you’ll find I’m always slightly overdressed,” she said with a laugh. “I’m an arms dealer with expensive tastes. I like to be the fanciest woman in the room if I can.” She threw him a smile and turned to the large windows. “I see you didn’t exaggerate your description of this view the last time we met. I don’t know how you manage to get anything done with a sight like that.”
How long since she had seen a sunset on Macella? The whole world looked blue, purple, and orange. The mists lay over the ground, the skyscrapers and mountains peeking above and touching the sun as it dipped toward the horizon. Above, the two moons of Macella glimmered, half-full. The bright twinkling planets of Tholos and the smaller Agora, the other two Sisters, were visible in the sky. She hadn’t realized she could feel homesickness standing right at the heart of her old home.
“Easy,” he said, coming up behind her. “I’m usually on Tholos, and I don’t work in here. It’s too much of a distraction.”
“Smart man.”
“I like to be the smartest man in the room,” he said, mimicking Zoe’s accent.
He was too confident, and she needed him more unnerved. He was impulsive when he was emotional; he tended to reveal too much.
“Humble, too,” she said smoothly. “One would never have thought you originally the—” When his expression hardened, Eris stopped talking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“You can say it. I didn’t earn my title, not by skill. My sister did. I was only the Spare.”
There we go. Still bitter. He couldn’t escape the echo of being second-best.
“General,” she said, sounding regretful. “I’m—”
“Stop talking,” he interrupted. “Sit. Eat.”
Damocles had always had mercurial moods; his favors came and went on a whim. She needed him upset enough to be desperate to prove himself at the reminder of his sister. Not angry at Zoe for doing the reminding.
So, Eris did the only thing she could do. She shut up and settled in the chair across from him, trying to slow her hammering heart.
Everything tasted even better than she remembered. She forced herself to keep her table manners, but she wanted to scarf the food down. How she’d missed Tholosian soups, silky smooth against her tongue. The feel of tearing into properly cooked meat with a rich sauce. Spreading melting sage butter onto still-warm bread. It was almost too much. She was grateful for the med cuffs that matched Zoe’s outfit. As long as she held the first bite in her mouth for a few seconds, she’d know whether or not it was poisoned.
Damocles watched her, his face betraying nothing until she finished. “I apologize for my earlier rudeness, Zoe.”
Eris almost let out a sigh of relief. The pendulum had swung back. Progress. “It’s all right, General. My thoughtless comment deserved that response.”
“Then why don’t we make up by finishing our game of zatrikion?”
Eris paused, trying to keep her expression steady. Playing with him last time had disarmed her more than she was willing to admit.
The last thing she wanted was that board between them again, but there was no refusing. She forced a smile. “Of course. I’d be delighted.”
Damocles motioned to the guard, who went into the other room and returned with the elaborately carved zatrikion board. Eris kept quiet as Damocles set the board as it had been the last time they played, and they both resumed the game.
“So, you’ve brought the improved schematics with you,” Damocles said, shifting a piece. “I’ll have my engineers reproduce the design and send you payment.”
Eris stole one of his pieces. “Aren’t you going to look at them? Test the weapon?”
She needed him to bring it out—if not to come up with an excuse to take it back under the guise of more improvements required.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to?”
“You have four royal guards stationed at your door”—another piece was hers—“a legion out the front, and you’ve sent my assistants to another room. So, either you enjoy the presence of military and think my employees are as useless as I do, or you’ve increased security.”
Damocles sat back, a small smile playing on his lips. “Very astute, Zoe.”
“Pirates know a thing or two about security, General. I just thought you might like to verify my work.”
He made a move and took one of her pieces, but she was still winning. “I have every confidence your new schematics are more impressive than your prototype. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”
Eris tried to stay calm. He was confiding in her; that was the important part. “Never,” she said lightly. She took a breath and risked it: “I take it you don’t trust the Evoli to remain peaceful.”
Damocles watched as she made another move on the zatrikion board. “What would you say if I signed the truce and didn’t honor it?”
And there it was. Damocles, you’re still so easy, Eris thought.
“I’m a mere merchant, General. My opinion matters little.” When his expression made clear that he expected her opinion regardless, Eris gave an answer that made her sick to her stomach: “If my weapons killed every last Evoli, I’d lose no sleep. For the glory of Tholos, and you as its future Archon. My loyalty is to you.”
Eris hated saying it. Zoe, both the dead one and Eris’s alias, would not have cared. She hated this part she had to play in degrading people from another Empire, and she hated how convincing it sounded. Because Eris had been taught her entire life that their lives didn’t matter, that the Evoli were necessary sacrifices to keep the God of Death sated.
But Eris also knew that her brother’s self-worth came from loyalty, from being seen as deserving of his place. The flare of satisfaction in his eyes was proof.
“And if they were the Evoli Oversouls?”
“I would be the first to congratulate you on your new conquest,” Eris replied.
So, it wasn’t just a coup. Rhea had guessed right: he planned to assassinate the Oversouls. The weapon could fire blasts but also disperse gas projectiles. It’d work with pressurized ichor. The weapon wasn’t large. It would be easy enough to hide. He still had three, maybe four shots left before Ariadne’s failsafe kicked in.
Eris anticipated Damocles’s next moves the way she would in the game before them: he only needed an excuse to go to Laguna, get close enough to target one person—perhaps the Oversoul, or even just a straggler celebrating the truce. Hit them from afar. It might not even hurt. That poor Evoli would stagger into another, perhaps a bystander looking to help. Diseases spread so easily that way. No one would know that all it took was one projectile in a weapon.
Damocles’s gaze flickered up to hers as he stole another one of her pieces. “Have you ever seen copies of the restricted Old World books in the Ancient Library?” At her confused expression, he explained. “Before my grandfather perfected the Oracle’s programming influence on all Tholosian citizens, some of the ancient texts were digitally copied and smuggled out of that library on data storage units. Literary pirates,” he added, leaning in as if to tell a secret. “There’s a reward for every copy found, of course, but a few of those texts still remain in circulation. I suspect they were acquired by the Novantae to inspire their pathetic little band of rebels.”
He was right, of course. Kyla acquired every book she could find on those rare old data units. Literature had been restricted since the second Archon spread the Tholosian Empire far beyond that which his father had acquired, and that emperor ruled ruthlessly. Information was carefully controlled, and literature became relegated to a single library and accessed only by those approved by the royal family. The Archon’s thinking was that if you controlled what people read, you could control their ideas.
After the Oracle was designed, and One’s program was downloaded into the brains of every lower citizen of the Empire, there was little need for such a heavy ruling hand. Only a few were born with the natural resistance to buck programming—those like Kyla and Sher, and every child born with the potential to become the next Archon—but a vast majority of citizens would never, ever pick up a book to read it.
Because the Oracle had programmed them so it would never occur to them that they could.
Eris laughed, as if the idea of reading was ridiculous to her. “Of course not,” she told him. Then, she quoted the Oracle’s programming: “‘There is no purpose to be found in books that cannot otherwise be discovered in the role you were born to fulfill.’ I was born in a merchant’s cohort, General. Weapons are a passion the God of Death has given me.”
Though there was no outward sign of it, she almost felt as if her answer had disappointed him. He moved his zatrikion figure—the Commandant—and took one of her pieces. They were tied. His skill had improved.
Angry with herself for being distracted, Eris nabbed her Soldier piece and took one of his. Damocles didn’t appear the least bit bothered.
“Well, allow me to tell you a story from one of those books,” he said, considering his next move. “It was an Old World religious text, revered by a faction of our early ancestors before the First Plague came to Tholos and wiped out nearly every family except the Archon’s. This fable had a parallel, you see. It was about a man named Leonis who was very close to his God, and he alone could see the corruption and violence that had overtaken his people. Leonis’s God instructed him to build a ship, in which those he cared for would be spared from his deity’s inevitable wrath. Leonis and his family left that planet; their God set fire to the world He created. Leonis’s family alone were given a new planet—our Old World. They became God’s new children, our first ancestors.”
Eris stared at Damocles, trying not to let her alarm show as he shared that tale with a gleam of pleasure in his eyes. What was he doing? She tried to decipher his meaning, his next move, but it was like a puzzle missing pieces. She cleared her throat. “That’s an interesting story. I—”
“I’m not planning a battle. Think of this as me picking my chosen. I am burning everything to ash to re-forge the Tholosian Empire anew.” His eyes met hers as he moved his final piece across the board and knocked over her queen. “King kills Queen, Discordia.”
Adrenaline sang through her veins. <Nyx, get Ariadne out of here.>
<But what—>
<Damocles knows who I am. Go!>
<What the fuck do you mean he knows who you are?>
“Discordia?” Eris gave him a bemused look. Beneath the table, her hands gripped the chair to force herself to remain seated. Damocles’s soldiers were still by the door; she wasn’t getting out of there without a fight. “General, as flattering as that is, I’m—”
“Enough games,” Damocles snapped. “There are a dozen guards stationed outside that door, and more ready to kill your friends. You lose, Discordia.”
Not yet. She didn’t lose until the God of Death took her to Avern.
“How did you know?” The words sounded calmer than she felt. How could she be so stupid?
Ariadne’s voice sounded in her head: <We’re not leaving you.>
<I said get the fuck out of here. Nyx, my brother has soldiers headed your way. Kill whoever you have to.>
<Wait a godsdamned minute,> Nyx said in shock. <Your what?>
<Nyx, just go!>
Damocles rose slowly, his expression even, almost bored. “Oh, I’ve known since before our first little meeting.”
Before? But how could . . . Her gaze fell to the game board, the pieces scattered. Of course. Of course. If Nova was compromised . . . “You killed the Novan spies. But you kept my Zoe identity intact, didn’t you?”
“The important spies, yes. Enough to ensure they’d assign you to investigate as Zoe. I figured you’d have to bring me an impressive toy to maintain your cover, but that weapon?” He let out an awed breath. “A pleasant bonus that you solved Project Harpy for me. It really is magnificent.”
Eris stepped back to keep her distance from him.
“Now, your new friends were a surprise,” he said, circling her. “Nyx, Rhea, and the little one. They might have escaped if they hadn’t met up with you. I think I’ll take Rhea back after I punish her. She’s mine, after all.”
Eris felt sick. “You let us infiltrate the palace and find those files on Ismara, didn’t you?”
His eyes gleamed, as if he were proud of this, proud of outsmarting her in this competition they’d had since childhood. “Come on, Discordia.” He clicked his tongue. “You didn’t really think you all got this far without me letting you? Without the Oracle being tipped off?” Eris tried to hold back her flinch, but he saw it. “Oh, you did. That’s cute.”
Eris went still with dread as the trill of alarms sounded through the palace. Ariadne and Nyx were on the run. Could they make it?
<Eris?> Clo’s voice. <What the flume is going on?>
<Start the engine, Clo. Nyx and Ariadne are coming to you. Get out of here.>
“Where did you get your information?” Eris asked her brother. Was the Oracle just that deep? Had One infiltrated Novantae’s systems? Or was there someone in Nova giving him information?
“Not important,” Damocles said with a wave of his hand. “What’s important is that I have you, I have your weapon, and I have your intent to ignore the truce and slaughter the Evoli on record. Everything that happens now can be traced back to you and the Novantae.”
<Eris!> Clo again.
<Leave me here, Clo. I’m not going to let any of you die for me.>
<No. We can’t just—>
<Damn it, Clo, for once in your life, just listen to me!>
Eris dove for an antique vase. She grasped the handle, swung, and slammed it into Damocles’s face. His guards rushed her, their Mors raised. Eris dodged one blast. Two. She punched a guard in the jaw. Bones cracked beneath her fist, his nose gushed blood. The other launched himself at her, but she lashed out with her ring—one quick swipe across the neck. Dead, bleeding out on the floor.
Damocles was up. He swiped the blood from his face. “You’re still quick.”
“You’re still slow. Might as well call your other guards in and give me a real challenge.”
“They know I want this for myself. Test me, Discordia.”
Eris and Damocles went for each other, blocking and punching and kicking. Eris had forgotten what it was like to fight against someone in the royal cohort. All the Archon’s children had been built for speed, for strength, for the damage their bodies could take. They crashed into furniture, breaking and splintering wood. Eris threw her brother into the table, and that glorious display of food toppled to the floor. Eris shattered a glass bottle and swiped at him. Damocles dodged, smacking her hard in the face with a metal tray.
Stars exploded in Eris’s vision. Warm blood trickled from her nose. The ringing in her ears only made the palace alarms seem to blare louder. What were Ariadne and Nyx doing? Would they survive?
Focus. Get up, get up!
“It’s better this way, sister.” Damocles hit her. Again and again, until Eris’s knees buckled. “I’ll be a great Archon when Father dies.”
He kicked her in the stomach. Eris’s breath left in a whoosh and she spat blood on the floor. Her sight was blurry as she crawled away from him. Weaponless. That stupid dress let glass cut her legs, the palms of her hands.
Get. Up.
His booted toe caught her under her chin. Eris heard the snap of her jaw dislocating. Pain made her vision go black around the edges.
To someone else, Damocles snapped, “Find out what the fuck is going on out there.” Retreating footsteps.
Ariadne. Nyx.
Clo’s voice, echoing in her mind. <Eris? We’re going to come for you, all right? Just stay alive. We’re coming.>
As the darkness closed in, she felt Damocles’s fingers lift her face. “I hope they tell stories about us, hundreds of years in the future.” Then a whisper in her ear: “I’m going to be the hero in all of them, Discordia. And you’ll be the villain.”