The walk from my cave to the map room is twice as quick as I remember. I’m not sure if I’m walking faster because I’m angry and determined or if I’ve just forgotten.
The closer I get, the more anxious I become. I’ve not spoken with the Sindaco since before I left. Before I uncovered his lies.
At the memory, I squeeze my mother’s spear inside my fist. I brought it with me for motivation. For strength. And because I can’t look at it without seeing his lies, which is why I must return it.
I’ll get the rest back eventually. This one belongs with him.
When I arrive at the door I consider walking right in but decide to knock. I suppose I shouldn’t completely start things off with a bad taste in both our mouths.
Though he did summon me.
“Come in,” the Sindaco calls.
When I open the door, the room is all shadows, save the single lantern he’s working under. Despite that it’s just past midday, you wouldn’t know the time of day based on this scene, which is always the same. Sure, sometimes the amount of wadded-up paper thrown on the floor changes, the number of canteens and coffee cups strewn about, but other than that, the Sindaco lives in some sort of frozen state of work.
The Sindaco looks up. “Veda … I assumed you were Dorian. I expect him back … It doesn’t matter—I see you received my summons.”
I nod.
“I’m so thankful you’ve returned…” But his sentence trails off as I march straight for him. I drop the spear right in the middle of his desk. “Ah.”
Exactly. “This belongs to you.” I fold my arms over my chest and take a seat.
“It was a gift”—he stares down at it—“an olive branch of sorts.”
“Yeah … It’s going to take more than that.” He nods silently. “You lied. You lied to me, to Dorian, to your own people.” He begins to shake his head, but I continue before he speaks. “There is no Lunalette.” I say the words through a clenched jaw.
“Well…” He lifts the spear up, tests the sharpness of the point on his fingertip. “The legend is based on—”
“An old storybook.”
He sets the spear back down, and his expression is soft, peaceful. Too peaceful for this moment when I’d rather he shout back at me so I can be even angrier with him. “The concept, yes, is based on that book you found. But the legend … the legend is marked by faith.”
Leaning forward, so the edge of his desk is within reach, I force my voice to remain calm but can’t help but say exactly what I’m thinking. “That’s horseshit and you know it.” I lean closer and the desk wobbles under my weight, making everything on top of it—lantern, spear, maps, and books—shift and rattle.
“Veda, please understand…” He avoids my gaze and again picks the spear up, eventually catching my eyes over the top of it as he holds it up before his face. “I cannot lie about something I believe in.” The Sindaco stands and places the spear in its rightful place on the stand behind his desk. His back to me, he says, “I believe in you, in the Lunalette, the legend. Just as your fellow Night members believe in you.” When he turns around, I see true emotion filling his eyes. I almost pity him.
Almost.
The Sindaco continues, his eyes not wavering away from mine. “Your speech in the main cavern last night was very moving.”
And that’s why I can’t pity him. He’s a liar. He didn’t find my speech moving. I can’t imagine he found it anything but infuriating.
“Yes, I saw you there last night, but then you disappeared.” I debate whether to say what I’m thinking—what I thought about at the time—but decide to go ahead. To hopefully get an idea of what he’s thinking. “I … I half expected you to speak up. To defend yourself. Weren’t you afraid I’d tell the truth about the Lunalette legend? Expose your lies?”
“In all honesty, yes. But more, I trusted you wouldn’t.” He sits back down. “This legend is so much greater than both of us, Veda. If you take me down, you take the legend down with me and, in doing that, the entire Night.”
I truly want to punch him in this moment, and I regret not calling him out then and there.
But as he gazes across the desk at me, I take him in for what feels like the first time.
His eyes are sunken but also puffy along the undersides—a sign of stress and lack of sleep. The lines on his face have deepened since I last saw him, or maybe I never really noticed them, but fine wrinkles run like riverbeds along his forehead, branching out from his eyes. His uniform is slightly tattered, stained with dirt in places—living underground for so many years will do that, though. But it’s not so much his outward appearance I finally see, it’s his emotion—something he’s done well to hide thus far. The way his eyebrows fall, how his shoulders have curled forward just barely, and how he seems to be searching for the right words … All signs of a man who’s at a complete loss as to how to proceed. How to right a wrong.
The Sindaco composes himself by sitting up straighter. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have lied, it was wrong of me and I regret it deeply. What can I do? How can I fix this?”
“What’s done is done, I’m afraid. I can’t trust you—not like I might have.” He begins to turn away. “But…” He glances back at me. “I cannot bring myself to hurt everyone who believes in me. In the Lunalette. Not now when emotions and fears are so delicate.” I’m not saying I’m going to play along with this story he’s created forever, but only for now.
“Oh, thank the Moon,” he says, voice shaky, with the relief like a man who’s just been spared.
“But I need to take on more of a leadership role. I will not be your symbol any longer. I want responsibility. To make decisions and lead my own faction of soldiers. If I’m going to play Lunalette, I need to do it my way.” He nods, but I can see he’s spinning a deal in his head. “Otherwise,” I add, “I’m out.”
“So, if I give you a larger, more important role in governance, you won’t tell anyone what we’ve discussed … about how I helped the legend along?”
I have to bite my tongue after he adds that last bit, but I firmly reply. “I won’t.”
Only. For. Now.
He nods confidently. “Consider it done.”
“Good. As my first act of leadership I’m informing you that the Imperi officer who helped me escape is staying in cave number five until further notice. Her sister was one of the prisoners and, as part of our agreement, I set her free. The officer’s name is Imi, and it’s our job to protect her now. She will be my second-in-command.”
His face turns a deep shade of red in a matter of seconds, and he opens his mouth to argue or swear or commend me, I’m not sure which because I speak right over him.
“I know you aren’t pleased that I released the Imperi officers—”
“No, I am not. Yes, you are in a place of leadership down here, but you cannot do as you please without consequence. You risked what might have been a much larger plan releasing those soldiers.”
“The Settlings were wrong.” I stand. “No better than Raevald’s Offerings. Larger plan or not, you know I’m right.”
I swear he’s physically biting his tongue, but he nods. “Very well.” He places his hands under his chin and goes on because he really can’t help himself, can he? “There will be no more Settlings. But, Veda, please know the ceremonies weren’t meant to be cruel. I had to show Raevald we wouldn’t stand for his antics. He’d taken you, planned to execute you, and he deserved to pay for it.”
Firmly, I place my hands on his desk. “But don’t you see? By stooping to his level we become no better than him. He’s not influenced by shows of power, Sindaco, he thrives on it. You of all people should know this—you probably understand him best.” He thinks I mean because he’s the High Regent’s son, but in truth, I’m saying they are more alike than anyone realizes. Even him. Mostly him. “Not all Imperi are bad, just as the Night isn’t all bad. They don’t deserve to be punished or killed for simply fighting for what they believe is right.”
He takes a moment to think on that, nods slowly. “You’re wise beyond your years. So much like your mother…” But the phrase, once uttered by Raevald himself, isn’t comforting at all. In fact, it turns my stomach.
The Sindaco stands. “I don’t have all the answers, Veda. All I can do is try my best. Make the decisions I feel are right in the moment.” He walks over to a small cabinet and pulls out a key—one that looks like the keys Dorian carries around that open the various padlocks to the den doors. “And I am still leader of the Night. You cannot do as you please because then we aren’t united.” I open my mouth to argue, but he continues before I get a chance. “All I ask is that you respect my position. Come to me before you do something that will affect my army and my people, please.”
“And will you do the same for me?”
“I will.” He holds the key up before him. “As you’re now second-in-command, I have something I need to share with you. Something I’ve been working on since the day of the first attack at the Coliseum. That evening, I promised the Night that I would work tirelessly to have you returned. What I’m going to show you was to be a last resort, but now I think we can give it new purpose. Possibly win the war with it.”
“Okay…” I’ve no idea where he’s going with this or what it could possibly be. But before I can press him, there’s a knock at the door.
“That’ll be Dorian … Come in!”
When Dorian enters, he spots me right away, grins, and, I swear, his cheeks flush.
My stomach definitely flips end over end because lucid memories of my lips on his, my fingers exploring his chest, and his hands in my hair come barreling back. Not to mention that only a couple of hours later I was writing a letter to Nico.
What is wrong with me?
Also, moonroot should be banned.
Dorian walks over, takes the chair next to mine. Side-eyes me. “Morning.”
“Good morning.”
“Right.” The Sindaco clears his throat. “To catch you up, Dorian, I’ve just made Veda—the Lunalette—second-in-command of the Night. That said, I’m going to officially name you third-in-command.”
“Sir … thank you.” Instead of being angry that I suddenly outrank him—though he does make sure to make eye contact, nod respectfully—Dorian seems … appreciative. It’s strange, this new, more sensitive and considerate Dorian.
“No … No. I should have done it sooner, especially with the war advancing like it is. I’ll leave it to you two to name anyone you’d like in charge under you. In fact”—he holds the key up—“I was about to show her Rovina.”
Dorian’s eyes widen. “Oh? You’re still working on it?”
The Sindaco swats Dorian’s question away with a slip of his hand. “It’s been a night project of mine … I’ve only got a few soldiers working on it. I wasn’t sure it was going to happen, so I didn’t want to bother you with it. But…” He puts the key in his breast pocket, pats it for effect. “I just got word a few hours ago that we’ll be able to test it soon.”
“That’s great news, sir. I know how much you’ve put into it.” Dorian’s tone isn’t all congratulatory. There’s a definite air of trepidation beneath the surface. But he stands. “Let’s see it!”
Dorian offers his hand to help me out of the chair. As if I’m under the weather from my evening buried under a moonroot haze. To hammer the sentiment in further, he grins scandalously like he’s thinking of exactly that, and of course he is because I am too.
My stomach churns and turns end over end—a mix of angry moonroot-drunk wasps and confused butterflies.
“I can manage,” I say, brushing his hand away and standing up on my own. I won’t mention my head spins and my stomach lurches.
Collectively, we leave the map room and the Sindaco leads the way to his secret project—named Rovina, apparently.
The walk isn’t too terribly far, and we end up down below the Crag. The Sindaco unlocks the door and swings it open with so much excitement it hits the stone wall inside.
The room is dark save the rogue lantern here and there and the clanking of tools, but the Sindaco pulls a lever and like in the gardens, several large overhead lamps crank on so the cavern lights up like midday.
“My weapon,” the Sindaco proclaims. “The Great Destroyer.”
The Great Destroyer isn’t nearly as monstrous as the Sindaco made it out to be. In fact, it doesn’t look likely to destroy much at all, save a swarm of mud beetles. Maybe a wayward fox.
The contraption’s fairly small—about the size of a desk on wheels but with wires and fuses hanging off it without rhyme or reason.
If I didn’t know better, I would have mistaken it for a pile of rubbish. Parts and pieces left for scavenging through.
It’s with that thought that I begin to wonder how fit the Sindaco currently is.
Between the horrific Settlings and the strange buildup and obsession with this hunk of metal before us, I’m concerned.
Confused.
It would appear this man can barely make a sound decision, much less lead a revolution.
And based on Dorian’s expression, he’s having similar thoughts.
The Sindaco walks over to the weapon, and the three workers tending it stop and move out of his way. “It’s to be the main hub for a series of explosions.” He lifts a metal ball the size of an apple off a pile on the ground. “This—a prototype for the moment—goes here.” He connects the wires on the outside of the ball to a fuse connected to the box. “Then…” He connects another and another until there’s a small line of small explosive metal balls. Then the Sindaco moves to the box, a switch on the top of it. He flips it on, a green light bleeps, then the Rovina cranks and lurches to life.
Like it’s a reflex, Dorian throws his arm out in front of me while I stumble over my own feet taking several hasty steps back.
The weapon blasts a cloud of steam from the undercarriage and then coughs as each of the explosives pop like firecrackers.
The damage is minimal, and I’m left part relieved and part confused. The showing was anticlimactic at best.
The Sindaco strides across the cave to pick it up. He lifts the length of still-smoking wires without ceremony and rejoins us. “Now, this is just a sample. What we’ll actually use will be much more destructive.”
“What do you plan to use?” I ask.
“Ah…” He taps the side of his head. “Still in development. You two will be the first to know when we have it all worked out, though.” He strides back to the weapon and turns the switch to the off position. “This is nothing we’ve dared try before, but once we can get the mechanisms right, be sure it’s timed and rigged so the explosives don’t go off before they’re placed … It could change the course of this war.” My Moon. “We plan to do a full test tomorrow.”
Wait. What? “Where?” I ask. Because if this thing is half the destroyer he says it is, he can’t detonate it down here.
“On the beach. We’ll test it by the water. That way, it’s safe and all the better for the Imperi to get word of it. Intimidate Raevald a bit.”
“That makes sense. Because if it were to go off down here…” I glance around the small cave, motion toward the tunnels it leads into, the low ceiling.
“Yes, yes … I’m aware. You’re so much like Dorian. All concern, all the time. I wouldn’t do anything to put my people in danger.”
I nod. “Of course.” Just like you would never lie to them all about something as important as, oh, I don’t know, a girl leading them to revolution.
With the demonstration over, Dorian and I turn to head back.
“Sir?” Dorian motions from the Sindaco to the door.
“Not yet, thank you, Dorian. I’m going to stay and observe for a while longer.”
We leave the cave, but I can’t help noticing how Dorian’s eyes linger on the Sindaco a beat longer.
This coupled with what he explained earlier, that he actually drugged the Sindaco, it’s obvious he’s suddenly not so trusting of his faithful leader.
And I intend to get to the bottom of it.
DORIAN AND I walk back from the Crag. Slowly. My strength isn’t returning as quickly as I’d like, and he’s definitely noticing but kindly not saying anything.
“Drink?” he offers, pointing his canteen at me.
“I’m fine.”
He glances down at me, part concerned and part like it’s so obvious I’m not all right. “Clearly.” Ah, there it is.
I glare playfully then force myself to switch to a much more uncomfortable subject. The unspoken hole stretching between us. “So … last night … you didn’t happen to come across a letter I wrote, by chance?” I keep my eyes ahead of me because if I make direct contact with those blue-agate eyes of his, I will definitely chicken out.
“Uh…” And suddenly he’s without words.
“Yes?”
He stops, stares, mouth agape. “You don’t remember, do you?”
Oh no, what am I not remembering?
My silence makes him laugh.
“What?” I ask.
“You woke me up by literally setting the letter on my face, then you asked me to get it to Nico. At all costs.”
“Dorian Winters, I did not…” Yet … It’s hazy, a moonroot fog orbiting around my brain. But with him mentioning it, the smallest crumbs of memory come floating back. Dorian’s watching, waiting, his eyebrow quirked up in interest and probably humored satisfaction. Then, “Ooooooh.” Shit.
“Yeah.”
It all comes tearing back into my conscience like a tidal wave. I’d stumbled up off the mat, written several versions of the letter, looked and then crawled around the cave for a way to deliver it, and then, when all was lost, I smacked Dorian in the face with it.
“Get this to Nico, mmmkay?” I’d said.
Dorian, almost as groggy as I was, stared back at me, one eye open. “What? Now?”
“Now. At all costs. It’s of the utmost importance.”
“Can I read it first?”
I jerked it away from him. Then, yes, tucked it into my shirt. And there was a moment when he wasn’t sure … When he thought maybe I was playing a game. But Dorian’s a gentleman, and instead, he stood up. Walked to the cave door. “I’m getting more water,” he said.
He left and returned with a surprisingly awake Bronwyn. But … her clothes were different. The details are fuzzy, though I know she wasn’t wearing a Night uniform. We embraced. She told me how happy she was to see me, nestled me into a warm hug. Then she took the letter and promised she’d get it to Nico.
“Bronwyn,” I finally say.
“Bingo.”
“But what the hell was she wearing? How’d she ever get it to Nico when he’s in the palace?”
“She’s—”
“She’s spying.” Dorian nods once, opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “Let me guess, she’s tending the gardens and sneaking into the palace for information?” He shakes his head. “Surely she’s not spying as a soldier?”
“No, no … she’s working in the kitchen.”
“Of course she is—her baking. The perfect cover. My Moon, she’s amazing.”
“Eh, she’s all right. I don’t know about amazing at spying. I mean, she did let me read the note before she took it.” He grins scandalously.
“She did not.” But deep down I’m embarrassed, afraid he’s telling the truth, and, if so, worried something I said might hurt Dorian’s feelings. That’s not what I want. Also, I officially denounce all moonroot.
He laughs. “Does that sound like something I’d do?”
I punch him in the shoulder.
“It was a good letter,” he says. “Proper, concise. Though I’d personally have skipped the bit about how strong and capable I am. How I make you tea and keep you on your toes … make you swoon at every touch. It was a bit much, V.” He eyes me.
I glare. “You’re something else.”
“I know. And now so does Nico.”
He’s joking, but also he’s sort of not, and I’m not sure what to make of it. But the way we get on together, the effortless banter we have, even when it should be uncomfortable, is familiar. Calming in its own right. When I look over at him, wondering if he feels it too, Dorian’s staring straight at me, hair a perfect mess, hands shoved in his pockets. And suddenly things aren’t so light between us anymore.
Too soon, the humor wears down and we’re left with the awkward truth that we spent a wonderfully blurry evening kissing on his floor and then he stayed in my cave with me all night. All of that, only for me to wake up in the middle of the night and the first thing I did was think of and write to Nico.
I slow my pace because I swear he’s got something to say. He slows too until we’re stopped and facing one another. Dorian’s breath is warm as it rushes over the top of my head and those glassy blue eyes of his are as they always are down here in the shadows of the tunnels: dark, closer to silver than their usual light sea blue.
I’d be lying if I denied the reawakening of butterflies in my stomach. Poor things, they have no idea what they’re up against.
When he takes my hand, they find out.
And I can’t help but hook my fingers between his, take in his warmth and strength.
He stares down at me. “I don’t need to know what was in the letter.”
I nod, all words and oxygen escaping me.
“I don’t want to know.”
Liar.
“It was…” My words falter just as he leans in to kiss me. And, I swear, when his lips touch mine—gentle yet wanting so much more … more than, I worry, I’m capable of giving at the moment—everything around us crumbles to the ground. But in a good way.
His arms around the small of my back, strong hands pulling me into him, we make our way to the cave wall so I’m perfectly pushed against the rock and he’s expertly pushed against me.
In this moment, even minus the excuses of too much moonroot, it’s right.
All kissing and breathing and no words because there’s too much to say and feel that kissing makes the most sense right now.
Until … a couple of soldiers come marching down the tunnel.
Quickly, we compose ourselves. Resume walking, still hand in hand.
Dorian leans in. “I need to admit something.”
“What?” I’m horrified over what he’s about to tell me. Did something more happen than I realized? Did I say something terrible? Or worse, admit my undying love for both him and Nico?
“Are you sure you want to know?”
I swallow. Hard. “Yes.”
He exhales … Shakes his head … Then slows to a stop. “Veda?”
“Yeah?” My stomach is in literal knots.
“You snored. Really loudly.”
I gape and slowly shift my eyes toward his. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.” He does that thing where he holds his hand up next to his face. “Night’s honor. It was horrifically impressive.”
I breathe a sigh of both relief and exasperation and playfully punch him in the shoulder.
We resume walking, and he kisses the top of my head.
But my stomach is still in knots.
And I can’t begin to untangle it at the moment.
“Dorian?”
“Yes, Veda?”
“What the hell was that thing the Sindaco just showed us?”
“Rovina?” As he says it, his jaw flexes. “He’s been working nonstop on it. I don’t know, V, he’s lost all focus. After you were taken it was the weapon, day and night, we had to get the weapon ready. Once that was on its way, it was all about the Settlings and revenge. It’s like he’s trying to stand up to the High Regent, use his own tactics against him or show off by proving the Night is just as cruel and innovative.” He shakes his head, disappointment lining his forehead. “It’s as if he’s completely abandoned the original reason we wanted this revolution to begin with.”
“Dorian, if that thing goes off in the tunnels it could cause the walls to cave in.”
“I know.”
“We’ve got to stop him, or at least get the weapon up aboveground.”
“I know.”
He looks over, eyes pensive and concerned, and, beyond my control, those butterflies begin fluttering.
Not now, I demand.
As if they received the message loud and clear, the fluttering ceases the moment we arrive back to my cave. At the entrance is a pile of letters and notes, some lit candles, and several blessings. The sentiment of each of the letters is similar: “We’re with you, Lunalette!” and “We’ll follow you to battle and back again, Lunalette!”
Dorian picks up one of the letters, a child’s drawing of a five-pointed star. “They look up to you.”
“Based on a lie.”
“No, not a lie,” Dorian assures me. “The lie was there before you arrived. It’s you they adore, you they trust to lead them. The Lunalette story is only background noise.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely. And they see the Sindaco fading just as we do. They seek leadership.”
I nod, but on the inside the weight of his words makes me both proud and terrified.
Dorian helps me scoop up all of the items and follows me into my cave where I find a solitary blueberry muffin sitting on the wooden stump. It’s certainly seen better days.
“She’s losing her touch,” Dorian jokes, staring at it.
“Poor muffin,” I say, because Bronwyn’s blueberry muffins are divine. It seems such a waste.
But of course, not really, because when I crack it open, a small square of paper falls out.
“That was fast,” Dorian says, picking up the muffin and taking a big bite.
I only stare.
“What? Were you gonna eat it?”
“Moon, no. There’s no telling where it’s been.”
He shrugs. Takes another bite.
I begin opening up the square of paper when Dorian is suddenly standing before me. I stop, stare up at him.
He sits next to me.
“Dorian, I…” I want to say something comforting … Explain how complicated my feelings for both him and Nico are … But the only thing I’m able to get out is, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He nods. Hardens his stare like he’s gathering strength for something. “Listen … You mean so much to me.”
“And you mean so much to me, but…”
“But Nico also means so much to you.”
I nod.
“I’ve known that since this started. Since the first time I realized I had feelings for you.” He looks away, rakes his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like it. Despite the fact that we’ve found a sort of mutual respect, there are times I hate Nico with a passion I’ve never known. There are times I hate myself for allowing things to carry on like they do—it’s confusing and painful.”
“I understand. It’s not fair to either of you, I know.”
“Or to you.”
I swallow the emotion rising in my throat. Dorian takes my hand in his, bringing the knot of emotion right back up again.
“What I’m meaning to say is, I’m open to more. I’ll always be open to more with you, Veda. As much as I want to ignore you and forget about you and only be a fellow Night soldier to you.” He laughs in a serious way under his breath. “It’s not possible. So here I am.” He squeezes my hand tighter, and I squeeze it back.
Staring down, our laced fingers blurring around the edges as I fight back the reality that I will eventually have to choose between them. Despite knowing I might never be able to properly be in a relationship with Nico, he holds a large part of my heart and that’s not fair to Dorian.
And despite the fact that Dorian and I haven’t been close a fraction of the time Nico and I have, he too holds a part of my heart. Which isn’t fair to Nico.
I’m the only one who’s going to be able to sort through this and make a choice.
Dorian is staring at our hands too, but he glances over at me just as I look at him. “I’m sorry,” is all I can say, deep emotion rasping my voice.
“I know…” Gently, he leans his forehead against mine. “I don’t envy you, V. It’s not going to be an easy choice. Nico and I…” He pulls back slightly so we’re eye to eye. “Neither one of us will be bowing out anytime soon.”
I swallow. Hard. Force myself to look away or else the tears welling on the other sides of my eyes will surely begin to fall, and I don’t have time for crying right now.
I stare back at the note from Nico. Test the sharpness of the edges against my fingertips. I’m not about to open it with Dorian staring over my shoulder.
He must sense that because he stands. Says, “I’m going to go and take care of a few things … I have meetings … A possible mission…”
I force myself to look away from the small square of paper. “What mission?” He opens his mouth to tell me, but I cut him off with, “It doesn’t matter. I’m going.”
For the briefest of moments, Dorian seems like he’s about to argue, but he must somehow shut himself down. “Well, you do outrank me.” I swear he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “You stay here, try to rest up a little? And I’ll get the details, be back in an hour tops.”
I want to trust him, but I definitely don’t trust him to be so accommodating about me fighting. That was too easy.
He must sense this or maybe I’m staring at him in the most skeptical way ever. “V—I will not leave the Lower without you.”
“One hour,” I repeat.
“I promise.”
NICO’S LETTER IS pretty much exactly what I expect it to be: lovely and succinct. I both love and hate how he couldn’t resist poking fun at how utterly awkward my letter to him was.
He addresses it to the Lunalette.
Enclosed is a list of Basso the High Regent claims were killed by the Night.
Then he signs it:
Yours,
Nico Denali, Heir to Bellona
I read his words over and over again. Study the curves of his letters, the places where his ink smudged, where he seemed to pause for thought. I try to imagine him writing under the light of a lantern or next to a window. Perhaps in front of the hearth and over a marble chess set, fine golden palace things surrounding him.
Then I turn to the list.
Before I’ve unfolded it completely my throat is tight and my eyes are burning. Because I already know …
No one on this list is down here.
I take a moment to calm the war drum rapping in my chest, the cold-blooded vengeance I would die to unleash on Raevald. The man must pay.
But not right now …
Now I must talk peace with Nico.
With a deep breath, I respond in kind.
Your Highness, Heir Denali,
I’m familiar with the pull you mentioned. In fact, I’ve actively worked against it for years. Finally, though, it’s completely overpowered me. Or maybe I’ve given into it. Whichever, I look forward to experiencing it again sooner rather than later.
As for peace—I agree. But what to do in the meantime? That’s a tough question to answer when so much is chaos. Everything seems so unwound here in the Lower, I’m having a hard time deciphering up from down. The list you shared is both extremely troubling and very helpful. I’ll be sure to compare the names with our own records and will let you know what I find.
But I already feel certain of the result.
And I think you might too—or I don’t believe you would have sent it to me.
Until then, please keep hunting for information and stay safe. I’m more and more convinced we can’t stay second in power for much longer if we hope to wage the change we want. The change ALL people of Bellona deserve.
On a much lighter subject, I have to admit, I’m relieved to hear my disguise skills are so impressive. I mean, if this Lunalette thing doesn’t work out, I’ll need something to fall back on to buy my bait.
I count the days until your reply and keep busy down here milking the mud beetles.
Yours dearly,
Veda Adeline, Lunalette, Expert in Disguise