Page 156 of Made For Death
“This plaque isn’t for the Sovereign. It’s a fucking reminder. That the best man this institution ever had didn’t die for power or for politics. He died for something greater.”
The room is still. Arlo blinks fast. Her throat works hard, and I know she’s trying not to cry.
I end the speech with a short nod. No applause. No fake tears. Just silence. The kind that says everything. The medallion is placed. The plaque unveiled. And then I step away.
Later, I find her outside.
The others are still drinking, murmuring. Alistair’s probably talking logistics with the Council. Raze is likely stealing someone’s cigars. Arsen’s gone quiet.
But she’s here. Where I knew she’d be.
Behind the Hall, in the private overlook that stares out over the grounds. The twins are with a nanny. For the first time in hours, her arms are empty. I move beside her. She doesn’t look up.
“He would’ve hated the spotlight.”
“Makes two of us.”
A firework explodes in the distance. Then another. Her breath hitches. I glance sideways, catching her glassy eyes.
“What?”
She shakes her head, barely smiling. “My dad called me firecracker. Said I came out screaming and never stopped. I used to hate it.”
“You don’t anymore?”
She exhales. “I miss it.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the cloth. Place it in her palm. She unwraps it, blinking down at the old patch.
“I don’t understand?—”
“It was his. From before the Sovereign. Arsen kept it.”
She traces the frayed edges with trembling fingers.
“And there’s something else.” I turn toward her fully. Hands in my pockets. Heart in my throat.
“I lied to you.” Her head snaps up. “When your father died…I told you he said you were too good for this world. That you were too good for me.”
Her lips part. She’s completely still.
“That was true. But it wasn’t all.” I inhale through my nose and force the rest out.
“He said…there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think of you. And that no matter what happened, he will always be with you. Watching. Proud. And if I made it out, I had to promise to remind you.”
I reach out. Take her face in my hands.
“I swore I’d make the world remember him. Not for the Sovereign. But so you’d know—he loved you. Every second. Even when he wasn’t there to say it.”
Her eyes blur. A tear slips down her cheek.
Then she laughs softly. “You planned fireworks just to make me cry, didn’t you?” She shoves my chest lightly. I catch her hand, press it to my mouth.
Then the fireworks explode again. And she’s in my arms. Wrapped in everything we fought to build. Everything we’ll burn to keep.
Arlo. Saint. Deacon.
My future, not the Sovereign’s.
Mine.
