Legacy(99)

I paused, caught a little flatfooted. “I ...” I blinked, not really sure how to answer.

“Come on,” Sovereign said, encouraging. “You know how it makes you feel, don’t you? What it felt like when he did what he did? When he ordered you to be held while—”

“Shut up,” I said, my cheeks flushing hotly. “I don’t need a reminder.”

“So how did it make you feel,” Sovereign went on, “when your father figure, your newly adopted parent, replacing the old, inferior one who’d abandoned you, turned out to be even worse?” He didn’t smile.

“He’s not my father,” I said a little too abruptly.

“No, of course not,” Sovereign said, “because you’ve never actually met your father, the real one. He died before you were born. Would you like to talk to him?”

“You are such an asshole,” I said and meant it.

“I am just pointing out that the people who have helped shape you and influence you may not have been the most morally centered individuals.” He stepped out from behind Winter and spread his arms. “All your outrage at what I’m doing is at least partially grounded in the judgment given to you by a mother who locked you in a metal box regularly and a ...” He glanced back at Winter, “... a father figure who forced you to kill your first love.”

“So I should take instruction from you instead?” I asked. “Because you’re morally superior, having never locked me in a box or caused me to kill someone I care about?”

“I saved your life,” he said calmly. “Three times now and counting. No, I don’t expect you to take instruction from me. I don’t expect your opinion of me is going to change one way or another tonight. I’m just here ... to save you. To help you. I don’t care about telepaths who are already dead,” he waved a hand at the sky, “and I’m not gonna tell Weissman that you sent your mother, your brother and your British friend away with all your junior metas so you could try and draw out some of his people and kill them in a rather obvious trap.” He smiled. “He’s probably figured that one out already, anyway, if you want to know the truth.”

I felt gut-clenching fear. I had been so sure I was being clever, even though everyone but me had practically cursed me for being a fool. The dormitories were sealed tight but completely empty, wired to explode if I ordered it. And I had planned to order it, too, as soon as Weissman’s latest gambit showed up.

“It was a good plan,” Sovereign went on. “But I can read minds. The good news for you is that I’m not fussy. I’m not in a hurry. I’m more worried about doing this right and not being harsh with you than I am about running over all your friends and getting them killed. I can be flexible. There’s room for mercy in my plan. I promise you that we can build a better world, one where people aren’t starving to death or being killed in wars every day that they didn’t start or want, where the planet isn’t being killed because of selfish desires.” He didn’t smile, just looked at me grimly. “You could help. You could be the greatest force for good that the world has ever known, saving more lives over the next five thousand years or more that you’re going to live than the piddly few that we’re going to have to take to start setting things right.” He cocked his head to look at me, and his tone turned imploring. “I know it haunts you, what you’ve done. Who you’ve killed. What you’ve become in the process. You worry about the cost to your soul. Make that sacrifice mean something by truly balancing the scales.” He took in everything with a sweep of his hand. “I know you think you’re fighting the good fight against the grand evil here, but what you’re really doing is perpetuating a system that creates outcasts, isolation, alienation, fear, starvation and death. You’re fighting for everything bad and ignoble and horrible in life but you think you’re on the side of the righteous because ...” He gestured to Old Man Winter. “Because of something he told you? Because of something your mother instilled in you? These people fight to keep the status quo. Why is he even here?” He poked Winter in the chest with an outstretched finger.

“To tell the truth,” Winter said finally.

“Which you could have told her at any point previously, if you’d been of a mind to,” Sovereign said. “No, now you’re here because you’re scared. Because a system that you helped prop up, that made you wealthy and gave you power, is about to crumble. That scares you, scares you enough that you’d scar a teenage girl for life in hopes that she’d protect you—your position, your power—from the change that’s coming.” He shook his head at Winter. “Your legacy is going to be that you did it all for naught.”