Gideon

Gideon wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the Riders’ barracks so full of love.

Parties were common. The Riders would throw open the doors, and Del’s girls would flood in. They’d dance and laugh and flirt and celebrate life. There was joy, to be sure. Brotherhood and kinship.

Tonight, the celebration was smaller. Just the Riders and the family--and the Rider who was about to become family.

Ivan still moved stiffly and tired easily, but no one was letting that detract from the celebrations. When he wanted a drink or a snack, a Rider leapt to fetch it, and Maricela was glued to his side, radiating enough pure happiness to fill up the room all on her own.

Gideon resolved to lock away his own lingering reservations. Anyone who made Maricela smile like that deserved his unswerving loyalty.

Isabela handed him a glass of wine and leaned against the wall beside him. “Diego Reyes is dead.”

She said it so casually that it took a moment for the words to penetrate. It took another to control his expression, so they wouldn’t disrupt the party. “When did that happen? How did that happen?”

“Poison, if I had to guess.” She cut a look at him. “Estela went to visit him earlier. Should we connect the dots?”

No one had to. The only real question was if Diego had known he was receiving the mercy of a swift death over lingering humiliation and eventual banishment. “She probably did us a favor. If we’d exiled him, who knows what sort of trouble he would have caused down the line?”

“That’s a pretty bleak statement, coming from the benevolent god-king of Sector One.”

Gideon rolled his eyes and took a sip of his wine. It was one of the more common vintages from Isabela’s vineyards, fruity and pleasantly dry. He wished it was beer. “We still have to deal with Estela. I don’t know if she’s entirely innocent, but I can’t imagine she would have signed off on the Suicide Kings hit. She wouldn’t have risked a single hair on her precious baby boy’s head.”

“Never.” Isabela looked around. “It’s a nice party.”

“It is.” Gideon swirled his glass. “I’m glad you came. I know this isn’t what you wanted for her.”

“It’s never been about what I wanted, Gideon.” She blew out a breath. “This is a difficult path, and not just for Maricela. You’re setting a precedent with your Riders, whether you realize it or not.”

Diego’s accusation echoed in his head still, the one thing he’d said that had struck a nerve.

Are there any rules you won’t break if it suits you?

Gideon had spent a decade dancing along a knife’s edge, struggling to reconcile the sector’s most beloved traditions with the future he wanted to see. And he was fucking tired of being patient. “Maybe it’s time to set some new precedents.”

“Even if they don’t benefit you?” Isabela asked sharply. “If you turn the Riders into something other than a cloistered order of warriors--if you make it clear they can have lives just like anyone else--then you can bet your ass Estela Reyes will find a way to drag her son back into the family business. Will you let him go, Gideon?”

Estela might want to sink her hooks into Reyes, but Gideon knew him better than his mother ever had. Nothing would send him back to the family estate to pick up the reins of leadership. But Hunter was still close to his parents and siblings. And Gabe...

The Monteros were clearly struggling. They’d lost their heir. If Gabe asked to be released to take his place as their new patriarch, could Gideon deny him that? Should he, when so many people’s lives and livelihoods depended on the Montero businesses?

“Yes, I’d let him go,” he said quietly. “The world has changed, Isabela. Eden isn’t a threat anymore. The boundaries between the sectors are blurring. I ask too much of my Riders to hold them against their wishes to vows they made in a different time. If I forced them to sacrifice their lives at my whim, how would I be any less of a murderer than Diego?”

“You wouldn’t.” Isabela paused. “Maricela filed with the priestesses this morning--a petition for canonization.”

“Not for Ivan, surely?”

“No, not Ivan.” She rubbed the heel of her hand quickly over her cheek, catching a tear that had just begun to fall. “Uncle Carter.”

That hit him in the chest. Carter Maddox had been a good man. He was the one who had given Gideon his first lessons in combat, who’d taught him how to throw a punch and hold a gun. He’d loved Gideon’s aunt with every atom of his being, so completely and unwaveringly that the disapproval of her family and the Prophet and a whole damn sector hadn’t been able to sway him.

Just like Ivan.

The way he’d treated Carter was one of the many things Gideon had made his grandfather answer for at the end. “Good. That’s good. Do what you can to make sure the priestesses agree.”

“I plan to, though I’m not sure it’ll be necessary.” Isabela flashed him a rare smile. “Things are changing, big brother. Are you ready for it?”

“You know I am.” Gideon raised his glass, and she clinked hers against it. “Tell you what. I’ll handle the angry nobles and the conspiracies and the rogue Makhai agents and all of it--if you promise me one thing.”

“Don’t even try it. I will not plan a Rios wedding on my own.”

Gideon heaved a tortured sigh, but inside, his heart felt as light as Isabela’s laughter. As bright as Maricela’s smile as she leaned in to kiss Ivan’s cheek. As brilliant as Avery’s grin as she leaned over the back of the couch to whisper something to Kora.

It would be months of planning. Hundreds of guests. Endless days of celebrations. A year’s worth of tithes. But maybe if he made the wedding big and splashy enough, he could buy himself another decade of reprieve.

Because Gideon had sworn himself long ago that he’d never damn anyone he loved to the hell of being married to him.