Chapter 1 - Henryk Gone

  Edward

  “So, he is really dead?” Beatrice said.

  Ed sat in the chair with the weapon hulking over him. A mech class plasma piece. Blue coils throbbed along the spine of the barrel. The air tasted like metal and heat. The thing hummed as if some ghost hand still had a finger on the trigger.

  “Yeah. Henryk.” Ed combed a hand through his hair. “He died. I hired scavengers to pull him and his suit out of that cave. Piper said the whole ridge was shedding stone. I think he was crushed.”

  Bea kept her eyes on the gun. A wrench in one hand. The other hand resting along the barrel. Silence pressed in.

  They were deep under the city. In the vault that once held a Martian Knight. Her father. Stone and machine and the slow pulse of coils.

  “Adaline will cry when I tell her,” Bea said at last.

  Ed did not answer.

  “Christ. Of everyone to go. He is the last I would have expected.”

  “This is war, Beatrice. No one is safe.”

  “War.” She looked at him now. “That is what you are going to call it.”

  “He fought to the last breath. Piper says he went down swinging. He saved her. There is honor in that.”

  “There is no honor for the dead.” Bea leaned in and fitted the wrench to a stubborn nut. The metal creaked. “He was what. Nineteen. Maybe twenty. He had people waiting for him. Unlike you.”

  Ed stared at the floor.

  “He had a home. Sisters. A colony that wanted him to come back with a crown on his head.”

  “He was great,” Ed said.

  “Great and dead,” Bea said. “What about the rest. How are they taking it.”

  “The Knights are a mixed bag,” Ed said. “Many of us do not have families beyond the academy. August is back and even he looks numb. Not forgetful. Not uncaring. Just numb. A lot of people pictured a different end for Henryk. He kept his distance from most of the squires so it is a mix. Kieren looks like he is back to leading Executor.”

  “He did not have the spikes?” Bea asked.

  “He had not proved himself to get them.”

  “But the boy who nearly killed my sister did.”

  “You know why Kieren received the spikes,” Ed said, and the look he gave her cooled the room.

  “And now that young man is leading Executor,” Beatrice said, a hard little laugh in her throat.

  “Kieren will shape up. All of us will. I was letting them take their time. I wanted them to grow into Martian order on their own feet. This changes that.”

  “How.”

  “Franklin, Wilbur, Mateo, and Kieren are green. Mateo at least has some training. The rest are boys who were told they were ready.” Ed rubbed his brow. “Executors in the making. Still boys.”

  “Most of them came from worlds that never marched to House Mars,” Bea said.

  Ed nodded. “This is the first time in our history we took in so many candidates at once. In other years we took one. Maybe none. Those few often failed.”

  “You mean lived,” Bea said, eyes fixed on the weapon in front of her.

  “At most there were four. Henryk made five. He had promise. With him gone that leaves Kieren.” Ed looked up. “How are the armor sets Maelia sent you. How far off are they.”

  Beatrice sighed. “Maybe a couple of weeks. True Martian plate takes time, and locking down ore contracts will slow us.”

  “Martian iron was harvested on Mars, but it needs to be synthesized,” Ed said. “Any iron works for the blend. The test is which worlds can take the stress.”

  He pulled the ipad closer. The armor plan glowed with glyphs and cold blue lines. The model stood in a T pose. Broad pauldons. Thick greaves. Slate armor with a beak helm and a red slit for the eyes. Roman numerals on the shoulder.

  Bea waved at the schematic. “That is the heavy plate. I will finish that one first for Arthur.”

  “Good. He should be first in line. What about the other suits of Martian power armor.”

  “The backpack is the problem,” Beatrice said. “False Martian power armor.” She looked back at him. “You wanted the helmet shaped like a bascinet from old Europe.”

  Edward nodded. “It does not need to be perfect. Just strong enough to carry the pack and not kill the pilot.”

  Their faces lit in the wash of the screen.

  “We need to be ready,” Edward said. “The universe is shifting. GrimGore rises. The houses are restless after the attack on the Block. A free station with no banners. The others will scare easy.”

  “You figured out who did it.”

  “If we had, we would be out hunting.” Ed glared at the poured concrete under his boots. “When we do, there will be retribution. Martians do not forget. The stars know that.”

  “Wraith is the purest of sins,” Beatrice murmured. “What about the Stargazers. The zero one and the zero two. I thought you would be raging over them.”

  Ed rubbed his jaw. “The Mercurians have the zero one parked in some warehouse. They are trying to crack your cockpit and the trick of a frame that can shift forms.”

  “They will have their work cut out for them,” Bea said, and the grin crooked before her face tightened. “They will get there.”

  “Mercurian friends tell me the zero one took a thermite grenade in the cockpit right after salvage,” Ed said. Bea’s eyes went wide. He smiled without humor. “They are trying to raise a machine we already burned to ash. Give them years. Even that may be kind.”

  “That is good for us,” Bea said.

  Ed’s smile thinned. “Henryk had that storm around him. He was dealing with it in his own way. He still made friends outside our house. He knew how to bind people to him. He felt like a hero the way old stories mean it.”

  “Yeah.” Her voice fell flat and low.

  She drew a breath. “Do you remember anything from that day that helps me fix the nicks and the cracks.”

  “What do you mean.”

  “The Stargazer zero one and zero two were prototypes,” Bea said. “I saw the footage of what Henryk did. You briefed me on what Iman reported from the cockpit of the zero one. I need details that matter to a smith. Where the frame bent. Where the plates split. What cooked under the pack. Anything that tells me why it lived as long as it did and how it died.”

  “Iman,” Ed said, folding his arms tight as if the room ran cold. “Let me think. Useful, but that system ran like a grandma on speed in a broken chair. The AI was subpar. She cursed the whole time. Swore she could have taken that cell with a pen if her machine had not betrayed her.”

  Bea narrowed her eyes. “I can tell I will not like her.” She turned back to the weapon and checked a stubborn coupling.

  “She is difficult,” Ed said. “Henryk and she were a thing for a while. I do not know how far it went. When his name came up she went bitter in a breath.” He lifted his hands. “But I will not lie. She said she was mid fight when the AI tried to resync into Stargazer mode. The frame lurched into her like a battering ram and threw her into a building. She swore she had them on the run. That hit gave the terrorists their opening.”

  Beatrice’s glare softened. She shoved hair off her face with an oily knuckle. “Damn it. I knew the AI was not ready. I will fix it for the next build.”

  “Next build.” Ed tilted his head. “You want a run that can be produced.”

  “At least a spec I can trust in sim,” Bea said. “The machine is already expensive by Martian standards. Transformable frames eat money. Students all over the systems pull it off in sim. Then the real thing collapses on the pad. We cracked most of the code. We are closest. I will step back from the zero one. That AI acts like a second pilot riding your hands. You need three of them or you need to be enhanced like Henryk to keep up. I will push the zero two to finish.”

  “Mateo is hungry for Henryk’s machine,” Ed said. “She is not enhanced. She is trained and eager. Make the inputs steadier and less twitchy.” He paused. “Before Henryk died. He did not get shot down.”

  Bea went still. “Oh.”

  “The suit lost power,” Ed said. “Dead in the dark. Underground.”

  “That idiot,” Bea muttered. She pinned him with a look. “How many times did he short the system. What was he doing.”

  “Bea, I”

  “Remember,” she said. “That is how we stop more deaths.”

  Ed stared at the floor and dragged up the day.

  “Henryk was obsessed with Martian laser doctrine,” Bea went on. “Only a few houses can outfit full laser units. Venus and Neptune sometimes. The rest run mixed loads. Mercury and Earth haul lead and shells and missiles.”

  “Atmospheric reentry,” Ed said. “He burned ammo in the rifle and lost one beam blade. He was not running his father’s chainsaw sword. He also fired that experimental plasma piece.”

  Bea’s hand flew to her face. “I warned him that system was a prototype. We barely ran a bench test. He likely cooked half the bus.”

  “I do not know the Warcasket lingo,” Ed said.

  “Everything he did stacks,” Bea said. She held up grease black fingers and counted off. “Unassisted reentry for a Warcasket is something I only just solved. The plasma cannon and the rifle draw from separate feeds, but rapid fire and sustained burn will cook a line. And that cannon is one shot. A sun in a bottle. You know what that does.”

  “Yeah,” Ed said. “I saw the Neo Youtube footage of what he did to Jacen’s flagship. It was not pretty.”

  Bea scoffed and went back to work. “A miracle it did not blow up in his hands. That cannon can punch a hole through a shielded hull. It can erase a small ship in one shot. I forgot to install the safeguard that locks it to one fire and the cooling did not even have a gauge for the pilot. We were going to test it on a closed range with a dummy Warcasket on remote. That is how dangerous it was. How many times did he fire.”

  Ed scratched the back of his head. “Three.”

  “Three. Christ, Edward.” Beatrice stared at him. “How did he know it was cool enough.”

  “You know Henryk. He would wait a couple of minutes. He had a sense for machines, eyes for things we do not see. He knew when to pull the trigger. I do not think he understood how much power he was drawing. By the time he did, it was too late.”

  Beatrice shook her head. “That explains it. I will keep the laser loadout, but I am decommissioning the plasma cannon for now.” She let out a thin breath. “At least we know it will not kill the pilot on the first pull.”

  “Do not put it in Mateo’s suit,” Ed said. “He is eager and he is angry about Henryk. He has been blaming us.”

  “Think he will leave.”

  “You know how hard it is for nobodies to get taken in by a house. Most drift to banners that take anyone like Mercury or they wash out and try again. Mateo leaves and he still carries the red taint of Mars on his arm. He is an orphan like us. He hates that truth, but he has nowhere to go.”

  “A pack of orphans,” Bea said.

  Ed’s pocket buzzed. He checked the screen and his eyes jumped. She kept talking, not seeing it yet. “Edward, how do you stand it. You and Henryk were close. You said you had hopes. What are you going to do now. I do not trust Kieren, but do you believe he can lead House Mars toward something better.”

  Edward looked up at her, then stood fast. “Sorry, Bea. I have to go.” He grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

  “Late for class,” she teased.

  “Class can wait. Remember that contact you gave me. The one I sent Joseph and August after.”

  Beatrice’s eyes widened. “They have been gone more than a month.”

  “Nearly two,” Ed said. “Tell your contact to suck a dick. I told them it was a one to two day run. They kept them out there forever. I thought they were dead. I was about to send another team, but the Martians are a mess and we lost two already. I thought that count included August and Joseph. They are back, Bea.”

  “They are back.”

  “I just got a message from Wilbur. They took both to a hospital. I am going to see them and find out what happened.”

  “Are they all right.”

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  “They are in a hospital. That means they are alive.” Ed gave her a small grin that did not touch his eyes. “First good news in a long while. It has been almost a month since Henryk died. Joseph is a trained fighter from his father and his tribe. August may be greener than the squires, but he still has the spikes along his back. That is a boon. We may have our warriors back.”

  Ed walked for the lift and raised a hand. Beatrice watched the doors close on him. She understood it then. That was the first real smile he had managed since Henryk’s death.

  “Henryk,” Beatrice said, and the name hung in the hum of the coils.

  Bryan

  “Pay attention to the lecture, mutant. What are you doing. Sleeping. Or just gooning.”

  Bryan lifted his head and blinked through the grit. “Huh.” His voice came out slow and dull.

  The hall smelled like old plastic and pencil dust. House colors broke the seats into little flags. The professor was gone. Students milled and argued over the test or drifted toward the doors for a break.

  Three faces waited in front of him. Two Neptune boys. A Mercury girl. That last one was the surprise. Mercurians usually kept clear of this sort of thing.

  Eamon. Cassian. And the girl named Soraya. They sat and smiled like they had paid for front row seats.

  “Can I help you,” Bryan said.

  “Offing yourself would help the universe,” Cassian said, and the three of them laughed.

  “I just took a test,” Bryan said. “Let me close my eyes for five minutes. No one is doing anything right now.”

  “Sleep on the floor,” Eamon said.

  Bryan rolled his eyes.

  “Did you just roll your eyes at me, freak.” Eamon pushed to his feet. “You are lucky you are not on Neptune. Your kind is not allowed on any of our worlds. That is what your life is worth.”

  Bryan stared at him and said nothing.

  “I cannot believe he is looking at me,” Soraya said.

  He sighed. They always got bored if he gave them nothing. He wanted to snap back but Venus did not need trouble on its name.

  “With your long arms and legs,” Soraya said. “I bet that is the only thing that is long.”

  “Why do you care what is long,” Bryan said.

  “Watch yourself, mutant,” Cassian said. “Stick to your own women. The last thing we need is another one who forgot his place.”

  Bryan let the words slide past.

  “Your kind is the bane of the galaxy,” Cassian went on. “It is a miracle the emperor even lets you breathe. The Neptunians had the right idea.”

  “You mean the Eunuch Emperor,” Bryan said, flat as a plate.

  All three glanced at each other. Eamon leaned in. “Careful with your mouth. I tolerate very little from your kind. Do not disrespect the emperor.”

  “Then do not disrespect ours,” a new voice said.

  Bryan turned. A student in Uranus gray and blue came to his side and planted his feet. Ronan. East Asian features. A mop of black hair. Not a natural Uranian. Baseline limbs. Chosen and adopted by the academy.

  “Ah, Ronan,” Cassian said. “Always a freak since the colony days. A mutant lover. Another gooner.” He snickered.

  Ronan looked them over like he was pricing meat. “You are rich, Cassian. When did you turn into a die hard racist. Tone it down.”

  Cassian blew a little raspberry. “Let him fight your battles, mutant.” He jerked a thumb at Ronan.

  “You always were a pussy,” Ronan said, arms crossing. “Always yapping. Do your Neptune friends know your father is a mutant lover.”

  Cassian tried to laugh. It came out thin and wrong.

  Ronan kept going when he saw Eamon was not laughing. “After your mom died your dad married a beast human. Does she hear the garbage you spit. She raised you like a son. You have half kin watching you.”

  “You better shut the fuck up right now.” Cassian stood. The long desk held them apart with their faces close.

  “Your move,” Ronan said. “Swing and I will not have to explain why I defended myself.”

  “Good. I do not need to explain to mine,” Cassian said.

  “Ronan. Do not,” Bryan said. “Let them talk. This happens every day. I will ask the professor for a new seat.”

  “Oh look. Your boyfriend wants you calm.” Cassian drove a finger into Ronan’s chest. Ronan’s eyes went wide and hard. “Listen to your boy toy. Freak.”

  Another voice cut in. Flat and heavy.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Yuri’s voice rolled across the rows. The white haired Saturnite glared from two seats down from Soraya.

  Cassian felt sweat grow under his collar as heads turned.

  “Yuri, Saturn does not care about mutants,” Eamon said. “Let us have our fun.”

  “Have it outside. I am trying to sleep,” Yuri said. “Take it out of here or deal with me. I hate hearing cowards yap when neither will throw a punch.”

  “Why does it bother you,” Soraya asked. “Put on headphones.”

  Yuri stared at her until she sank back. “You think these two will tag team you so you can ditch your house and run with them. You bore me. Shut up, whore.” He dropped his face into his arms and kept cursing into his sleeve.

  Ronan and Bryan shared a look. The other three went quiet. Cassian eased back into his seat.

  “Thanks,” Bryan said to Yuri. Duty more than warmth.

  “Fuck off, mutant,” Yuri said without looking up.

  Bryan exhaled. Ronan sat beside him again. “I am done tolerating it,” Ronan said, loud enough for the three to hear.

  “It only gets worse,” Bryan said.

  Ronan started to answer, but fresh shouting rose farther up the hall. Heads lifted. Even Yuri groaned and said, “Why can I not catch a wink. I studied all night for this test. They do not care here unless you are shooting something.”

  “God, he is dead and you are still shitting on him,” a voice said.

  Bryan and Ronan looked up.

  House Mars colors. He knew their names from roll call. Mateo of House Mars. Axel of House Mars. He did not know them well. That house was down to a handful, but they carried enough noise for a regiment.

  Axel stood near six foot three. Uniform tight over thick muscle. Fingers clenched. He tugged at his collar and kept stealing looks at Mateo. Mateo was small beside him. Five foot five or maybe six on a good day. Long dark hair tied back. Narrow limbs. Blue eyes like chipped ice.

  Bryan saw the coil in Mateo’s shoulders. Fingers locked white. Anger cutting his face as he stared down the row.

  Iman of Mercury sat with her cap low. Commander of the Thirty Fourth. Marcus of Mercury beside her. Marcus looked uneasy. Iman did not. She watched Mateo like a judge.

  “Iman, just apologize,” Marcus said.

  “No. I will not,” Iman said. “All I said was no wonder Henryk died. His machine was the most half assed wobble trap I ever had to pilot.” She took off her hat and tipped her face.

  A bandage ran along her left brow. Another sat heavy on her cheek. She tapped the bruised side. “This only healed now. That fight was a month ago. I was in a coma. Doctor said the concussion was football level.”

  “No one told you to climb into that suit,” Mateo said.

  Iman waved him off. Mateo’s hands knotted into fists.

  “You will not disrespect him,” he said. “Not in front of me. Not after what he did. Can you count the people who would have died if he had not stepped into that prototype.”

  “Let it go,” Axel said.

  “Shut up, Axel,” Mateo said. Hurt flickered as he looked down at his desk. “You trained him. You were his knight teacher. You will let her spit on him when he is not here to speak.”

  “Yeah. I wonder why,” Iman said, voice mild and mean.

  Marcus flinched. “Iman. Enough. He was my friend too.”

  “No wonder,” Iman said, rolling her eyes. “You and Henryk shared the same disease.”

  “What does that mean,” Marcus said.

  Iman stared through him. “Boys like you treat girls like tools. You promise and then you hand over scraps. Half love. Half truth.” She breathed once and tossed the words aside. “Fine. I will play nice.”

  Mateo’s mouth curled. “So that is it.”

  Iman turned back to him without a word.

  “That is what this is,” Mateo said. “Henryk slept with you and did not call.”

  Marcus stared at his desk. Iman’s rage lit like a match. “Do you want to die, boy.” She tilted her head. “If I can even call you that.”

  “Come on then,” Mateo said. “Say when.”

  “Look at that. Knights of Mars with no trouble hitting girls,” Iman said. “So much for chivalry.”

  “I am not a Knight of House Mars,” Mateo said. “Keep talking. I do not care if you are a girl or a middle aged man. We can step outside. That is a promise.”

  “You think I am going to take that from you,” Iman said.

  “You took it from Henryk,” Mateo said, flat.

  Iman looked ready to blow. She turned toward Marcus. He shot her a stare that said you will not spit on my dead friend and expect me to stand with you.

  Iman faced Mateo again.

  “I heard the rumors,” Mateo said. “I knew something was off. Only a girl could be this vindictive and keep it over someone’s head like this. You loved him. He is dead and you keep dragging his name. I never got why he let it slide. He had trouble holding himself back. You.” He pointed at her. “That explains it. He did not owe you anything. You gave it up and he was not serious. That is on you.”

  “I will kill you,” Iman screamed, and she came over the desk in a rush. She hit him high and locked both hands on his shoulders as she drove him back over the divider.

  “Fight, fight, fight.” The chant rose. Bryan and Ronan. Yuri. Cassian. Eamon. Sonoya. Faces lit with hunger and shock.

  The circle closed. Iman smashed a fist down as she pinned Mateo. He spit his own blood and then he folded both legs and kicked. She sailed into the front row and bodies went down like spare lumber.

  Iman bared her teeth. Her hands shook. A roar tore out of her. Mateo pushed to his feet. She grabbed a handful of hair. He punched her square and her nose broke wet. She drove her knuckles into his ribs and they staggered together and crashed to the floor again.

  “See. Not cowards,” Yuri said as he stood and clapped. “Money on Iman. Fuck the Martians.” Laughter scattered across the hall and the clapping rolled with it.

  “Commander Iman slept with Henryk,” Sonoya said, stunned.

  “Did not take her for a mutant fucker,” Cassian said, eyes on the fight.

  Eamon watched with his mouth set. “She never moved like a human anyway.”

  Ronan and Bryan traded a look. Ronan lifted a shoulder. Better them than us.

  Bryan let out a chuckle and leaned back with his hands behind his head. He stared at the lights and then his eyes went wide.

  A girl stood on the aisle above. Light brown hair. An air about her that was not quite real. Her robes stirred though the air in the hall was still. The yellow bulbs painted through her like water.

  She looked over the fight. Then her eyes found Bryan. He stared back with his mouth open.

  She winked and vanished.

  “You good, bro,” Ronan said.

  Bryan jerked and blinked. “Huh.”

  “You were staring into nothing. You good.”

  Bryan thought it through and then nodded once. “Yeah.”

  Himari

  Himari and Belle-Anne watched from the catwalk above. Underground House Jupiter ran like a honeycomb. Rooms within rooms. Not as big as the old hall that Esava ruined during Bri’s first accident. The crews had sealed the cracks. New lights hummed. Pipes sweated against the concrete. Bri was back.

  Below them a hatch swung open. Water lapped at the rim. Three pairs of eager hands reached in and hauled Bri out by the forearms. She broke the surface with a gasp and blinked up at the faces grinning down at her.

  “She looks well,” Himari said.

  “Is it not too early,” Belle-Anne said. “She only just got right.”

  “Esava gave her time,” Himari said. “We should be glad she was not thrown in the furnace.”

  Belle gripped the rail and said nothing. Bri’s eyes wandered and found them above. She lifted a small wet hand and waved. Himari and Belle raised their hands in answer.

  “Like I said. She is doing well,” Himari said. “Maybe you had a point.”

  Belle frowned. “About what.”

  “Henryk,” Himari said, turning. The fluorescent wash put a red sheen in her eyes. “Since he died, she has made a full recovery.”

  “I do not care about being right,” Belle said. “I care that Bri is back. No more screaming at ghosts. No more tearing her hair. Now we can go back to what we do best.”

  “And what is that,” Himari asked.

  “Serving the Order,” Belle said, a small grin touching her mouth.

  Himari looked back down at Bri and shook her head slow. “Is this all there is.”

  “What do you mean,” Belle said.

  Himari glanced left and right as if the air itself might be listening. “If Bri had not shaped up they would have reset her,” she said. “That would have been her fifth time. Maybe her sixth. Esava showed me the files. In some lives she never made it to thirty.”

  Belle’s eyes went wide. “Esava showed you all of it. Every life.”

  Himari closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “Yes. And that astral trick Bri uses. She was not born with it. Something in the genome shifted when this Bri was made. Our Bri. That is how she found it.”

  Belle looked down again. Someone draped a towel over Bri’s shoulders. Another acolyte hurried in with a pale beige robe. Not Jupiter blue like Himari’s. Not the deep violet of Belle-Anne. A different cut. A different color. Something new made for her.

  “Esava must like you to share that,” Belle said.

  Himari rolled her eyes. “Breaking the oath to trap that Venus prince proved where she stands,” she said, then rubbed at her brow. “I do not know how I feel about it.”

  “About sleeping with him,” Belle said.

  Himari’s lip curled. She shook her head. “A mission is a mission. I understand why it makes some people uneasy, but that is not it. I would have done it either way. It is what came after. Now she relies on me.” She met Belle’s eyes. “She is not my friend. I know my station. After Pluto’s president died she could have called anyone. She called me.” Himari looked down at her own hands and let the breath out of her. “We have combat mages by the dozen. We have pilots who call lightning. Me. I do not know what she sees when she looks my way.”

  Belle smiled. “She sees how talented you are. The next witch of Jupiter needs a head for politics. Maybe she wants you to lead the next wave. How long until Bri graduates.”

  Himari rolled her eyes. “They do not care about graduation. Four years or ten. It ends when a house pulls you. Diplomas mean nothing here. You know why the Eunuch Emperor packs every house on one world.”

  Belle nodded, slow. “You make a good point. Two things can still be true.”

  “Really.” Himari narrowed her eyes. “The classes bring in children who would never touch a crest. The dorms and orientations are bait. It is all a net to find recruits. Kids who believe the imperial dream. Promise a banner. Promise a future. Tell them if they swear to a house they will live long enough to hold power and walk away from missions.”

  “There is truth in that,” Belle said.

  “Sometimes you are na?ve,” Himari said. She ignored the way Belle’s face tightened. She flung her arm toward the sprawl below. “Look at House Mercury. Bri told us dorm caps sit at one hundred fifty to two hundred. Locked to buildings and slots. So explain how Mercury fields more than five hundred students. Venus. Maxtn kept them steady before Jace took the chair. He was a good president. He held the worst of it in check. Led them better than a bully would. Jace and his sister carry the right blood. They pushed him into a desk and wore the crown. Attacks. Bullying. Hazing. Missions that grind down children. The houses care about rosters and money and rank.”

  “And do you think we are different,” Belle asked.

  Himari hated how honest that sounded.

  “No,” she said. “We preach that we stand between the galaxy and extinction. The Witches of Jupiter began with a kidnapping. Our founders stole bloodlines and built an order from them. An order so sharp that emperors took note. An order even the Knights of House Mars learned to fear.”

  Bri stepped into the bath hall. Her slippers were still wet from the pod and they clicked on the tile. “I am fine,” she called to the girls who had walked her in. “Give me five to ten minutes. I have class so I am going to shower.” She held her breath until their steps thinned down the corridor, then let the sigh escape.

  She faced the sink and the glass.

  Pale skin. Brown hair thick at the ends, ready to curl. A wide frame that held its own weight. The towel wrapped her from breast to knee. Green eyes looked back with a tired light.

  She turned the taps at the basins. Steam rose and smudged the lamps. She crossed to the stalls and opened the valves there. The room filled with the hush of water.

  For a moment she stood at the mirrors again and watched herself breathe. Waiting.

  The air changed. Heavy. Close. Smoke drew together behind her left shoulder like a thought getting born.

  It took shape.

  A mass, hunched on all fours. Black fur in strings as if soaked and rotting. A neck too long and crooked, drooping like a camel with the bone gone wrong. Antlers spread from either side of its skull. Eyes the color of deep water.

  Bri did not have a name for it. Her blood said she had seen it before. Only Henryk had known its truth.

  The Peyton.

  “Excellent, little witch,” the Peyton said.

  Bri gripped the porcelain and stared into the sink.

  “I told you,” the Peyton went on, “act normal and I will leave you be. Your part of the bargain holds.”

  She clenched her teeth and turned her face away.

  “What is it,” the Peyton said. “I can give you the mind you had before. I can make myself a constant. Your sisters will not believe I am here. That is the joke. Magicians and witches will look the other way when a girl says she is slipping.”

  “Demon. I cannot give you what you want,” Bri said.

  “Demon.” The Peyton laughed, a low broken sound. “Little witch, I am worse than that. I am a man. This is only a shape. Why can you not do as I asked.” He prowled along the other side of the glass. “We are all demons. Men most of all. Different shades of the same rot. I can show you worse than what I have given you. Why will you not obey.”

  “Because Henryk Brown is dead,” Bri said. The words came out slow and hard. “How can I teach a young man magic when he is not on this world.”

  Silence. Then a soft disdain.

  “Henryk,” the Peyton said, dragging the name. “He is not dead.”

  Bri’s eyes widened. She shook her head. “Trusted sources say he is dead. House Mars is stumbling after the death of their Executor. If the rumors are true they have already chosen another. Is that who you want me to train.”

  “No.”

  The word landed like a blow. The mirror rattled. Bri flinched back. Web cracks ran through the tile at her hands.

  She stared into the glass.

  The Peyton stopped moving. “No one else. Henryk. Those fools on Mars are at the edge of making a Druid Executor. A figure in the likeness of Merlin. Nothing can halt his rise.”

  “What of his death,” Bri said, clutching the towel to her chest as she met those blue ethereal eyes.

  “Little witch. Henryk is not dead,” the Peyton said. “Rest easy. I will ask nothing until he stands again in the academy halls. Then you will work beside him. You will teach him the ways of your witches. He will learn one spell from every element. He will learn to draw and hold power without his voice. You will not be caught. I have no use for a teacher who burns out before he is ready. Your loyalty to your order is forfeit. Your loyalty goes to him.”

  Bri glared into the glass. “You talk a lot about someone who is not here.” She spread her hands. “Jace and Logan parade his death. Two leaders from two great houses. The system believes them. You expect me to believe you. Let me go. There is no reason to bind me if your obsession is a dead boy.”

  The Peyton laughed. A dry sound that filled the room.

  “The Executors of House Mars do not die,” he said. He slid along the edge of the mirror and his eyes never left her. “Like you they are reborn. They live more than one life. The difference is simple. Yours are hidden. Theirs are sung. I wonder what songs our Henryk will earn from this trial.”

  “If you know where he is why not go to House Mars,” Bri said.

  “Because this test will turn Henryk from boy to man,” the Peyton said. “From soldier to warrior. The Knights of Mars are not soldiers. They are a breed from a forgotten age. Once men in the service of Christ who marched for the holy land. These new knights fight for a different holy land. Not a strip of earth. All of it. Every sky. Every world. They fight for a future where the stars belong to mankind. That is the destiny. Goodbye, little witch.”

  “He has been gone two months,” Bri said.

  “He will return soon,” the Peyton said. “Executors do not die. And Henryk is the shape of what mankind should have become long ago.”