Inside the house, a frenzy had erupted with the news Celia brought. While everyone scrambled to make sense of what Celia was trying to explain, Rosalind watched her sister’s expression. She could see it plainly: no matter what conclusion they came to tonight, Celia was going after him.
“I got this letter in the last town,” Celia said, laying a piece of paper down on the dinner table. Six heads crowded around its four sides. “I should have opened it immediately, but the soldiers closed in on us and Oliver got himself captured to lure them away.” She paused. Winced slightly, skipping past recounting the speci1cs. “It wasn’t until I was hitching a ride on the back of a truck that I remembered to open it. It’s from Priest.”
“What is Priest doing sending a correspondence?” Alisa asked. “Telegrams are easily intercepted and spied upon.”
“It was an emergency.” Celia spun the paper around. “She must have known she needed to get this information to Oliver before his mother caught up to him. It’s only that the Nationalists got to him 1rst.”
I performed investigation on Lady Hong. She turns soldiers immortal with “seramorine,” produced only by mutated gene found in human blood. Cannot be stabilized unless two types of blood present: original and genetically diversified offspring.
She gave the original to herself. I read her research thesis from start to finish, and she describes an offspring’s seramorine supply to be limited. Hong Liwen should be reaching the limits of his use. By the description of its
presentation, Hong Feiyi doesn’t have the gene. She will be coming after you next if she is to finish her research and make the complete concoction.
Run.
—Priest
Rosalind leaned back when she 1nished reading, her thoughts spinning at breakneck speed. Lady Hong’s 1rst illicit experiment wasn’t on Orion after the Nationalists pulled her funding. Her 1rst illicit experiment was on herself, knowing she needed to wait to pass it on to her children. By the time she got caught, the main reason she targeted Orion was because Oliver had already left the household and joined the Communists.
“Huh,” Rosalind said quietly.
It still didn’t wholly make sense. Perhaps Lady Hong had abandoned Orion at the last stop because his blood wasn’t useful in her experiments anymore. She needed to go after Oliver instead to continue harvesting this genetic component and continue her terrible research. Only… it wasn’t as though Orion were deadweight. Short of his blood, he had still been subject to her other experiments. He was her 1rst impossibly strong soldier. An asset regardless. She could have had both her sons—it didn’t need to be one or the other.
When Rosalind’s eyes Aickered to Orion, he was already watching her. Her breath caught in her throat on sheer reAex, though she quickly suppressed her reaction. Embarrassing. She had had him back for a day, and she was reacting like this over his gaze alone. Orion lifted an eyebrow, seeming to ask what she was thinking. She shook her head, gesturing that she’d tell him later. He didn’t have his memories, but he still remained excruciatingly observant.
“How much do you trust this Priest?” Juliette asked after 1nishing the letter, the question directed at Celia. Her cousin looked more doubtful than everyone else at the table. “Because this sounds like a lot of intimate knowledge she shouldn’t know.”
Celia frowned, pulling the letter closer to examine it again. “What do you mean?”
“This part about Hong Feiyi.” Juliette tapped the line. “How would she have gotten ahold of that information?”
At Rosalind’s side, Orion nudged her carefully. “That’s my sister, right?” he whispered.
Rosalind nodded.
“I don’t know,” Celia, meanwhile, was answering. “But of everyone scrambling for power in Shanghai, I can’t imagine why Priest would need to make things up. Oliver is her handler. She must have methods of gleaning information.”
Across the table, Roma leaned over to Alisa, whispering, “Do you know who Priest is?”
“If I did, brother dearest,” she whispered back, “there would be a lot less doubt and confusion at this table right now.”
“I wondered whether it might be you.”
Alisa gave him a look askance. “How could I be a sharpshooter when my aim is shit? You never taught me.”
Rosalind felt as though she were trying to tune in to three hundred diPerent conversations at the same time. In truth, it was only Juliette’s and Celia’s voices crowding in too while they debated the legitimacy of the letter, but every time she caught sight of Orion’s perplexed expression, her attention split another fragment.
“All right—hush, hush,” Celia commanded.
The kitchen fell quiet. Orion propped his chin into his hand. “I wasn’t saying anything.”
“Maybe you ought to,” Roma countered. “Out of everyone, you should probably stay here.”
“Agreed,” Rosalind said, at the exact same time that Orion blinked and exclaimed, “Absolutely not.”
Alisa grimaced. Celia pretended to get distracted by the side of the table. Orion, despite barely following the situation, pulled his shoulders back, straightening his posture.
“Oliver needs me.”
“You don’t remember him.”
“He’s my brother, isn’t he? Memory or no memory, how can I leave my brother to the wolves?”
“Enemy brother, don’t forget,” Celia added quietly. “Those wolves are your
people.”
An awkward tension drifted in. Alisa mumbled something about wanting to make tea, but instead of rummaging through the cupboards, she pivoted out of the kitchen and into the living room, looking into the other drawers.
Orion laced his 1ngers in front of him. “I’m not going to claim to know more than I really do,” he said. “But I think you need me for a rescue mission because you don’t have anyone else here to provide brute strength.”
Lady Hong was coming after Oliver, but Oliver was being held captive by Nationalists. If they wanted to keep Oliver out of Lady Hong’s grasp, then they needed to break him away from the Nationalists before Lady Hong did. Which, to Orion’s credit, did require someone who would perform the outright 1ghting, because heavens knew a Nationalist jailbreak was not that easy.
But…
“Orion, it really isn’t that simple,” Rosalind said. “Celia is right. We’re split down two factions. When your memories come back, you might 1nd that you would have made an entirely diPerent decision. Going in to get Oliver means actively combating your own side.”
There was an unspoken question in Orion’s expression. They were both Nationalists, yet only he was being urged to reconsider.
“I thought that entire side believes I’m hanjian.”
“Brainwashed hanjian, technically, so it’s not like they really blame you,” Alisa called over from the living room. As soon as they all turned to look at her, she ducked into her shoulders, scrambling to add, “Sorry, sorry, I’ve removed myself from this conversation.”
Alisa did make a good point. Rosalind hesitated.
“They have marked you oP as a lost asset,” Rosalind said. “But in all honesty, if they knew you were no longer under your mother’s control, they would probably accept you right back into the ranks. The Nationalists operate smartly. It’s about result more than doctrine.”
The web that Rosalind had drawn was still up on the counter. Orion searched for it again, his gaze landing on the information and tracing the names that had been scribbled with arrows and connecting points.
“Until you get your memories back,” Rosalind continued, “you probably shouldn’t decide yet whether you’re going to betray them.”
“But you are going on this rescue.” “Of course.”
“Then I must as well,” Orion concluded. “You are my side. It is not betrayal.”
Rosalind blinked. He was making his decision under the assumption that they were one combined unit, choosing not by reason but by his faith in her. How could he trust her so easily? What had she done to deserve it, especially now, when he didn’t even remember her?
“That’s that, then,” Celia said when Rosalind remained unspeaking for too long. “OP we go.”
No one moved. Except Celia—who strode a few steps toward the door. She stopped. Turned back.
“I was ready to leave with you, Celia,” Alisa supplied helpfully.
Celia gave her a wry look.
Orion suddenly pushed away from the table, swinging his arms. At once, Roma gestured for him to wait, his frown serious.
“If you are insistent on leaving,” Roma said, “then you must come back in a week’s time. When Juliette and I got ahold of your cure… we never tested it. We didn’t know who to give it to or if there was any value playing around with what limited supply we had.”
“What Roma is trying to say is that we cannot promise your mind will stay as it is,” Juliette interjected bluntly. “Lourens didn’t make that cure directly for you, and your conditioning could have been diPerent. If you don’t return by the time he’s here to get looked at properly, it’s not our fault if you lose control again and kill people.”
Rosalind’s mouth dropped open. Juliette caught sight of her expression, then raised her brow to signal, What? I’m only telling the truth.
“I understand,” Orion said, nodding. “I will return in a week.” “I will bring him back,” Rosalind added.
“Time is ticking!” Celia called from the door.
“Regardless of whether this rescue mission succeeds or fails, you must return.” Roma had spotted the paper full of names they left on the counter. He picked it up, eyeing the lines. “It’s not only the people around you at risk. It is yourself. Your very mind could crumble.”
Orion considered the matter for a moment. “Are you trying to scare me on purpose?”
Roma frowned. “No, of course not.”
“If you scare me, I do think it might help. Your eyes are so piercing that I can feel my heart rate picking up, and it’s sharpening my thinking—”
“All right, all right,” Juliette cut in, giving Orion a push out of her kitchen and toward the entryway. “Stop wooing my husband. Rosalind, keep him under control.”
For the 1rst time that night, a bubble of laughter rose up Rosalind’s throat. She tamped it down, but by the grin Orion gave her over his shoulder, he had caught it anyway. At the entryway, meanwhile, Celia saw there was movement at last and opened the front door with a Aourish, gesturing for everyone to hurry. She stepped out. As did Alisa. Only Rosalind looked back one last time, giving Juliette a nod.
“A week,” she said. “I promise.”
