Golden Son by Pierce Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

wellbetoorich.’”
    “Arcossaidthat.”
    “No,I’msureitwasAugustus.”
    I shake my head. “Check your facts, brother. Lorn au Arcos said it, and the Sovereign turned to reply,‘Youforget,RageKnight,Iamawoman.’”
    Arcosisasmuchmythasman,atleasttomygeneration.Reclusivenow,hewastheSwordofMars andtheRageKnightforoversixtyyears.PeerlessKnightsacrosstheSocietyhaveofferedhimthe deedstomoonsifhewouldbuttutorthemforaweekinhisformof kravat ,theWillowWay.Itwashe whosentmetheknifeRingthatkilledApolloandthenofferedmeaplaceinhishouse.Irejectedit then,choosingAugustusovertheoldman.
    “‘Youforget,Iamawoman,’”Roquerepeats.HecherishesthesestoriesoftheirempirethewayI cherishedstoriesoftheReaperandtheVale.“WhenIgetback,let’stalk.Nottheusualbanter.”
    “Youmeanyouwon’tyammeronaboutachildhoodcrush,drinktoomuchwine,waxpoeticabout
    theshapeofQuinn’ssmileandthebeautyofEtruscangravesitesbeforefallingasleep?”Iask.
    Hischeeksflush,butheputsahandoverhisheart.“Onmyhonor.”
    “Thenbringabottleoffoolishlyexpensivewine,andwecantalk.”
    “I’llbringthree.”
    Iwatchhimleave,eyescolderthanmysmile.
    SeveraloftheotherlancersattendtheconferencewithRoque.Therestmakethemselvescomfortable asAugustus’sGraysecurityteamscombthegrounds.ObsidianbodyguardstrailGoldslikeshadows.
    Pinks sway gracefully into the villa in a constant stream, ordered from the Citadel’s Garden by membersoftheArchGovernor ’shouseholdstaffwhofindthemselvesboredfromtravelandseeka
    littlemerriment.
    A Pink Citadel steward guides me to my room. I laugh when I arrive. “Perhaps there has been a mistake,” I say, looking around the small room with its adjoining washroom and closet. “I’m not a broom.”
    “Idon’tunder—”
    “He’snotabroom,sohewon’tfitinthiscloset,”Theodorasays,standinginthedoorwaybehind us. “It is beneath his station.” She looks around, pert nose sniffing disdainfully. “These would not evensuitasclosetto my clothesonMars.”
    “ThisistheCitadel.NotMars.”Thesteward’spinkeyessurveythelinesonTheodora’sagedface.
    “Thereislessroomforuselessthings.”
    Theodorasmilessweetlyandgesturestotherose-quartztreepinnedtotheman’sbreast.“Isay!Is thattheblackpoplarofGardenDryope?”
    “Your first time seeing it, I would guess,” he says haughtily before turning to me. “I don’t know howtheyraisedyourPinksinMars’sGardens, dominus ,butonLunayourslaveshoulddoherbestto looklessaffected.”
    “Of course. How rude of me,” Theodora apologizes. “I merely thought you would know Matron Carena.”
    Thestewardpauses.“MatronCarena…”
    “WeweregirlstogetherintheGardens.TellherTheodorasayshelloandwouldcallonheriftime isfound.”
    “You’reaRose.”Hisfacegoessheetwhite.
    “ Was .Allpetalswilt.Oh,butdotellmeyourname.Iwouldsoliketocommendyoutoherforyour hospitality.”

    Hemumblessomethingquiteinaudibleanddeparts,bowinglowertoTheodorathantome.
    “Wasthatfun?”Iask.
    “Alwaysnicetoflexalittlemuscle.Evenifeverythingelseisstartingtodroop.”
    “Seemsmycareerendswhereyoursbegan.”IchucklemorbidlyandwalkovertotheholoDisplay
    sittingnearthebed.
    “Iwouldn’t,”shesays.
    Ibitemybottomlip,oursignalforspyingdevices.
    “Well,ofcourse,that.ButtheholoNetis…notwhereyouwanttoberightnow.”
    “Whataretheysayingaboutme?”
    “They’rewonderingwhereyou’llbeburied.”
    Ihaven’ttimetoreplybeforeknucklesrapagainsttheframeofmyroom’sdoorway.
    “Dominus,LadyJuliirequestsyourpresence.”
    IfollowVictra’sPinktoherroom’sprivateterrace.Herbathaloneislargerthanmybed.
    “It’snotfair,”avoicesaysfrombehindtheivory-whitetrunkofalavendertree.IturntoseeVictra playingwiththethornsofashrub.“YoubeingcutlooselikeaGraymercenary.”
    “Sincewhenhaveyoubeenconcernedwithwhat’sfair,Victra?”
    “Must you always fence with me?” she asks. “Come sit.” Even with the scars that distinguish her from her sister, her long form and luminous face is without true fault. She sits smoking some designer burner that smells like a sunset