David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

The information she found disturbed her. Security in the palace was nonexistent. Last night Zeus talked longingly of his hope for escape. Before studying the files, Maggie had imagined that Felph must have killer droids circling the palace. Though Felph did have four security droids posted outside, he hadn’t programmed them to keep his children in, nor to keep strangers off the grounds. They only destroyed stray predators.

On reflection, Maggie saw that Felph didn’t need any high-security measures. His primary defense was simpler than killer droids: it was the vast seething desert, separating his oasis from any tangle within three hundred kilometers.

So Zeus’s fears seemed unwarranted. Leaving the palace would be as simple as flying out. Felph’s droids cared for dozens of florafeems; they would accept any human request for use of the beasts. A quick check of the beast handlers’ memory showed that Zeus himself often took the florafeems to visit Devil’s Bunghole.

Maggie thought, But Zeus intimated to me last night that he’d never left the palace, that Lord Felph held him prisoner. Maggie retrieved video images the droids had filed of Zeus’s most recent trips. Maggie confirmed that the young man had been lying.

What she found left Maggie heartsick. She’d suspected that Felph was some kind of monster. Now she realized he was nothing more than an old man, an errant old man who had long ago fled society, and yet had not given up on mankind. She’d judged him harshly, more harshly than one person should ever judge another.

Yet Zeus had lied to her. Maggie recalled being the victim of hundreds of seduction attempts in past lives-many of which failed, some of which succeeded. Just as often, she’d made such attempts. But never had she run across someone like Zeus-handsome, clever, manipulative, rife with pheromones, and apparently lacking any moral compunctions whatsoever.

Zeus was dangerous. So dangerous, Felph had felt compelled to destroy his clones in order to keep the young man in line.

Yet Maggie had fallen for Zeus’s smooth talk. He’d seemed so sincere. The thought made her boil.

Maggie wondered: she knew that a Guide could send audial or visual hallucinations. Perhaps Zeus’s Guide had done this to him. Perhaps he hadn’t known the truth about the lack of palace security-as difficult as Maggie found this notion to credit. Perhaps his memories had even been edited, so that he didn’t remember his trips outside the palace.

She checked other records, questioned Felph’s AI about the programming of Zeus’s Guide. Zeus had complained he’d been held captive, made a slave, but the programming she found told a different story: Felph had programmed the Guide to forbid Zeus from murder. Beyond that, it kept Zeus from endangering himself, from lying when confronted by Lord Felph, and from rape.

That was it. Zeus had been free to leave the palace any time. He’d done so, often.

So Maggie studied much of the day, seething. Zeus had been playing games with her. From the moment she’d met Felph, she’d campaigned for him to free his children. Zeus knew how important she held her freedom.

So last night, she realized, as he spoke to me, it was not escape he wanted, it was a liaison. She remembered how he’d fondled her, how he’d pressed his kisses upon her. Love me, free me, he’d pled. And I was fool enough to take him seriously.

In the early afternoon, Maggie felt tired, so she returned to her room to nap. The child in her womb seemed to be of a different mind. He did not kick so much as merely stretch, pressing his feet against her ribs, turning somersaults till she imagined he’d go mad from dizziness. Such internal gymnastics did not allow for decent sleep.

So Maggie was not in a good mood when her door chimes announced a visitor.

She opened the door. Zeus stood, one elbow casually resting against the doorframe. He wore an elegant silvergray dinner jacket over midnight blue pants, and he carried a yellow rose in his teeth. As mad as she’d been all afternoon, Maggie looked into his smoldering dark eyes and found-she wanted to laugh in his face.

She could not look in those eyes and see a hint of deception, only of passion. She restrained herself from laughing, and only smiled.

“For you,” Zeus said between clenched teeth. He leaned at the waist till he planted a kiss on her lips. Opening his own lips, he nudged the rose into her mouth.

He knows how his kiss affects me , she realized. Maggie grinned, holding the rose in her mouth, thinking, I’ll get even with you, you ass.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

Maggie decided to play his game. “I planned to ask you that question myself.”

“Does the hummingbird miss its morning nectar?” Zeus asked. “Would the moon miss the sun if it refused to shine? No less than I missed you.”

“You’re so sweet,” Maggie said. “Where did you ever learn to say such sweet things?”

“You inspire me. I find myself rising to the occasion.”

Maggie smiled thoughtfully. Zeus stood close to the door, as if begging entrance, but she didn’t want to let him in.

Maggie hadn’t seen the genetic records yet, but she suspected Felph had twisted his son’s genome. Felph was rich enough to create any kind of child he wanted: why a sociopath like Zeus? Felph said he wanted leaders, people strong enough to defeat the dronon. But what kind of man would that take?

In that moment, it came clear to her: a violent man, a man who abhorred authority and would rebel against any who sought to rule him. A controller who desperately needed to be in charge. A passionate man, one who craved to create, to leave a legacy. At the insight, Maggie drew a breath in surprise.

“Ah,” Zeus said, “I take your breath away!”

“I suspect you have that effect on all the women.” Maggie sought to recover.

“I wouldn’t know. Outside my sisters, you’re the only one I’ve ever met.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Maggie said. “You handle yourself so well.”

Zeus hesitated slightly, wondering at hidden meanings. “I understand you had a long talk with Herm this morning?”

Maggie didn’t know what he was talking about, but if Herm wanted to pretend they’d talked, she decided to play along. “Yes, it was a fascinating conversation.”

“You talked about me?”

“Nothing could be more fascinating.” Maggie laughed.

Zeus smiled, waiting for her to go on, but Maggie didn’t give him the pleasure.

“So, you will be meeting me tonight, in the garden?”

“No,” Maggie said.

“But, Herm told me you would?” Zeus countered.

“I… I wanted to,” Maggie said, “but I have a lot of work, more than I’d first imagined. I may have to work late.”

“Shame on my father,” Zeus said, “working a woman in your condition so. We should punish him.” He smiled pleasantly.

“Seriously,” Zeus said, “you must eat, and the garden is pleasant. If my father complains about your lack of performance, I’ll assure him you performed quite satisfactorily.” At this, he gazed longingly into Maggie’s eyes, licked his lips.

“All right, I’ll meet you,” Maggie said, wondering what game Herm had been playing at. It seemed everyone here played games. Zeus played Maggie, Herm played Zeus. Where did it end?

“I admired the dress you wore last night,” Zeus whispered passionately.

“Thank you,” Maggie said.

“Leave it home tonight. Our skin will be warm enough.” Zeus leaned forward, kissed her. “Until tonight, then.”

Maggie stood in the doorway, watching him leave, heart pounding. When he’d passed down the hall, she returned to the technical wing, to the computers in Felph’s revivification chamber. For three hours she studied Zeus’s genome, found it to be all she’d feared. On the Rand scale, his violent tendencies measured a perfect 8.2 on a scale of ten. Any higher, and he’d be a threat to society. Any lower and he wouldn’t be capable of the cold-blooded murder required of a dictator.