Golden Son (Red Rising Saga, #2)

by Pierce Brown

For seven hundred years, my people have been enslaved without voice, without hope. Now I am their sword. And I do not forgive. I do not forget. So let him lead me onto his shuttle. Let him think he owns me. Let him welcome me into his house, so I might burn it down. But then his daughter takes my hand, and I feel all the lies fall heavy on my shoulders. They say a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. They made no mention of the heart.

It fills me with a strange emptiness knowing that I was enough for her when I was never enough for Eo.

But good men die. To free them, to protect them, we must be savages. So give me evil. Give me darkness. Make me the bloodydamn devil if we can bring even the faintest ray of light.”

He always thinks because I’m reading, I’m not doing anything. There is no greater plague to an introvert than the extroverted.

But you’re like a hound apologizing for wagging its tail. You’re always distant, Darrow. You don’t have to apologize for how you are, not to me.”

Eo said if I rose, others would follow. But I’ve not yet risen. I’ve not yet done as she asked of me. I am not an example. I am an assassin. I do not have an excuse to give up. To hand over her dream to others. Ares never knew Eo. He never saw the spark in her. I did. Before I draw my last breath, I must build the world she wanted to raise our child in. That was her dream. That was why she sacrificed, so others would not have to. And I will not let others decide my fate. Not now. I do not trust in Ares if it means I must reject Eo.

But this is why I was made. To dive into hell.

“No one knows of these people,” she says. “No one but a handful of Golds with access. The human spirit tries to break free, again and again, not in hate like the Dark Revolt. But for love. They don’t mimic each other. They aren’t inspired by others who come before them. Each is willing to take the leap, thinking they are the first. That’s bravery. And that means it’s a part of who we are as people.”

“No. Don’t speak. It’s not your turn just because I pause.”

Even the cruel feel pain. And even the cruel can change. I hope this changes him. He could do so much, if only he would learn.

“He said he always had his eye on me.” She reaches into her pocket, pulls something out, and drops it onto the floor. “So I took one of his.”

Tactus was always my friend. He just got lost in trying to be the man his family wanted him to be, when all along his friends loved the man he already was.

“You have to fix that,” she says of Roque. “Fix it before you’ve lost him.” “I know,” I say. “Soon as I fix a hundred other things.”

“You’re a sinister little shit, aren’t you?” Victra asks. “I’m Gold, bitch. What’d you expect? Warm milk and cookies just because I’m pocket-sized?”

He is a relic. Thoughts like his belong to the age I am trying to destroy. He can’t help what he believes. He’s not seen what I’ve seen. He’s not come from where I’ve been. He had no Eo to push him, no Dancer to guide him, no Mustang to give him hope. He grew up in a Society where love and trust are as scarce as grass in the Helion waste. But he’s always wanted both. He’s like a man planting seeds, watching them grow into trees, only for his neighbors to cut them down. It will be different this time.

Slaves do not have the bravery of free men. That is why Golds lie to lowReds and make them think they are brave. That is why they lie to Obsidians and make them think it is an honor to serve gods. Easier than the truth. Yet it takes only one truth to bring a kingdom of lies crashing down.

“You are a worm who thought himself a serpent just because you slither. But your power was not real, Pliny. It was all a dream. Time now to wake.”

Because in the end, what does all the power in all the worlds matter if your closest friends can betray you? The Sovereign’s father learned that when his daughter took his head. Pliny learned at the price of his life. I forgot it, distanced myself from my friends, and nearly lost everything because of it when Tactus felt as overshadowed and alienated with me as he did with his brothers. It is why I started fresh with Victra, why I told Ragnar the truth, why I must make amends with Lorn and Roque.

“He’s got one hand. You’ve got one eye. I have a type.”

“In what world should you be afraid of me?” he asks.

“I don’t like that you brought me here. I don’t believe you’re being the man you want to be. If you survive this and I don’t, be better than the man who tricked his friend.”

You’ve so many friends, Darrow. So many who’d run through fire for you.”

That’s what Society does—spread the blame so there is no villain, so it’s futile to even begin to find a villain, to find justice. It’s just machinery. Processes. And it rumbles on, inexorable till a whole generation rises that will throw themselves on the gears.”

“Then I put a bullet in her head.”

“I’m your mother. I don’t care about what’s right. I care about you, child.”

Tradition is the crown of the tyrant.

Gold did not rise out of chance. We rose out of necessity. Out of chaos, born from a species that devoured its planet instead of investing in the future.

“I didn’t know,” she whispers. “Darrow, I didn’t know.”