attack the remaining bases in Rafe. Cavars are holding their own at the moment, but Comantre Syndics have been monopolized by attacks on their own soil by Wurthem and Peney. Alameeda Strikers are pursuing the citizens of Rafe into the annexed area. They’ve located our base camps in the Forest of O and are systematically attacking them there as well. If we don’t act soon, there will be nothing left of Rafe to defend.”
I remove my hands from my face to look at him. “You know what’ll happen to me if I give New Amster a plan to destroy Excelsior and the Brotherhood, right?”
Trey reaches over and gently tucks my hair behind my ear. “We’ll have a team in place to help you execute your mission,” he says reassuringly, but he has doubt—huge doubt.
“My mission?” I ask. Even though I know what he’s been told by my father, I want to hear the words from him.
“I’ll be there for you, in whatever scenario you come up with, to defend you, Kricket.” He believes what he says for the most part, although his answer shows that he has grave reservations as to whether that’s right.
“I was there, Trey,” I say quietly, “when my father spoke to you at the Ensin Institute and told you about his expectations of me.” Trey frowns and I continue: “Pan told you that when I do this, the moment I kill Excelsior, I’m as good as dead too. New Amster wants Astrid as empress. They don’t want me.”
“They don’t want Kyon. We’ll be there to kill him so that he’s no longer part of the equation. You just have to do your part and this is over,” Trey says naïvely.
“You’re wrong. Kyon’s not the problem. I am. My father and New Amster are afraid of me. They think I’ll want revenge against them for abandoning me on Earth.”
“They’ll see reason. And if they don’t, maybe Earth is the option. Maybe letting you return there is all they need to allow you to live.”
I shake my head. “Pan is known as a ruthless strategist. He understands that as long as I live, I’ll always be a threat to Astrid. Someone powerful need only find me on Earth and return me to Ethar for this to happen all over again. I threaten her reign. The only way that ends is if I’m dead.”
Wayra stops pacing and says, “Kricket would make a stronger leader than Astrid. You’ve met her, Trey. Astrid’s smart, but she doesn’t have the kind of heart needed to make the brutal decisions it takes to rule.”
“See?” I say to Trey. “The debate begins already, and with it comes a new war—sister against sister. Pan won’t allow that. He loves Astrid too much to see that happen. So if I don’t leave Ethar soon, I never will.”
“He’s your father.”
“He left me for dead a long time ago.”
“You could abdicate to your sister.”
“Really? Could I? Because that’s worked so well for me before when I’ve refused to do something. I was almost Manus’s consort, not because I wanted to be, but because he wasn’t going to let me refuse. How hard is it for you to envision a scenario like that happening again?”
“If you leave Ethar without helping us, then everyone we love dies,” he retorts with anguish in his eyes. “My brother, Charisma, my family will all be wiped out! This war began because of what we did, Kricket! We have a duty to save our people from the destruction we brought to them!” He knows what he’s asking me, but since he and I are responsible for this, he sees the sacrifice as justified: my life and maybe his for the lives of Rafe. “I’m asking you to do this for me.”
“So be it,” I say softly. “I’ll get you your plan on one condition.”
“Anything,” he replies.
“Promise me you’ll protect Kyon after I kill Excelsior.”
Wayra growls, “Giffen’s right—you are insane.”
“I’m not crazy, Wayra.” I glance at his face and see his disgust. “Kyon wants what you want. He’s Excelsior’s son, but they’re bitter enemies. Kyon has been hunting me all this time for the same reason you are now: so that I’ll kill Excelsior. He’s not the person driving this war; he has been trying to protect me because he swore to my mother that he would. He thinks I’m supposed to be the empress of Ethar. He doesn’t know about Astrid.”
“Have you slept with him?” Trey demands with mounting anger.