Salazar walks two steps behind me.
Always.
As I’ve been instructed to stay at least two steps behind the High Regent.
Always.
It’s early evening—and I’m on my way to the first High Regent–sanctioned reward tea with my mother.
Despite the fact that I just saw my parents this morning, there’s much to celebrate after the successful Offering.
Or so Raevald claimed.
Salazar and I have been quiet since passing through the security fence into the north Dogio village. Uncharacteristic for him, but if he’s experiencing anything near the dread and sadness and guilt threatening to bury me, then his silence is understandable. Warranted.
It’s the first time I’ve been off the palace grounds aside from my visit to the Coliseum. The first time I’ve seen the Dogio side of the island since the night Veda showed up at my back gate.
The night we held one another in my bedroom.
The night she was taken from me and marked for Offering.
In comparison to the Basso villages—muted, gray, everything one light breeze away from falling apart—the Dogio side of the island has always been livelier, more plentiful, vivid and fresh, from the clothes we wear to the flowers gracing our gardens, and, it goes without saying, wealthier.
Not now.
I stop dead—my legs instantly leaden.
It’s as if the entire village was bathed in smoke.
The homes, the walkways, and even the gardens are ashen. Dilapidated and in disrepair. War-ravaged.
There are extra fences around some homes.
Windows boarded up.
No lamps lit over doorsteps.
No delicious scents wafting from open kitchen windows.
No children out playing. Not a one.
“I’m sorry, my lord … Did the High Regent not warn you?”
I only shake my head.
I swear Salazar cusses under his breath, but maybe it’s me because I’m in shock.
How could Raevald allow this to happen?
But the minute I think it, I realize my hypocrisy—Veda’s voice ever in my head these days. Sometimes I’m just deaf to the truth of it.
Because how could Raevald—and Dogio—allow Basso to live in these same conditions day after day and not in wartime?
Veda would call me out on that thought before I had the chance to make an excuse for my lack of forethought.
She’s not here so I must do it myself.
It’s not right.
It’s not right.
“Shall we?” Salazar snaps me out of it, motioning that we keep moving.
“Yes, of course.”
We walk on, and I spot postings both warning of the Night and promising their return tacked everywhere from trees to fences to the hundreds littering the ground like a second layer of dirty snow. There are also recruitment posters for both sides, but there are several low-ranking Imperi guards tearing down anything that advertises for the Night.
Not intending to, simply traveling the road to my house, I’m following a paper trail of postings.
My eyes are down as I approach my family’s home. I stop when I see Veda’s eyes staring up at me. At my feet is a wanted poster. I resist the urge to pick it up. For Salazar’s benefit, I force myself to kick it aside.
Then I look up.
And I nearly weep.
My home is unrecognizable.
I feel Salazar’s hand on my shoulder. “I’ll return in one hour to escort you back to the palace, my lord.”
“Thank you, Salazar,” I say without looking back at him, my eyes glued to the scene before me.
“WHAT’S HAPPENED HERE?” I ask my mother, who’s busying herself over the perfect cup of tea. She’s much more casual than when I saw her at the palace this morning. She wears all black and her pants and tunic flow almost as one piece. Her long dark hair is pinned into a tightly braided bun at the nape of her neck, a thin gold scarf tied around it, the ends hanging down to her midback.
We sit at our breakfast table in the parlor that overlooks her prized garden. But the garden, a month ago her pride and joy, has been deserted. Left wanting and neglected. Much like the rest of the house.
There’s dust where there didn’t used to be dust.
The antique chair that used to sit like an art piece in the corner is now shoved under the handle of the back door.
The gold candlesticks that once adorned the mantel are gone.
An Imperi guard paces along the back fence.
And that’s only what I’m noticing from this room. What else is out of place?
She sets a cup of tea and a plate of breads and fruit in front of me. “War, my son. War and the Night, that’s what’s happened here.”
“The Night?”
She nods, sips her own tea. “We never know when they’re going to attack or how. Then the Imperi retaliates. Everything in either of their paths destroyed … Turned to ruins…” Sad and hopeless, she gazes out the window at her dead garden. “This war is costing the island deeply. Not only economically but in lives lost … So much is falling apart. I’m not sure either side can win at this point.” When my mother’s eyes meet mine I see how tired and scared she is. But there’s also a fierceness there I can’t quite place. A fight I’ve never seen before. Not in my mother anyway.
She leans across the table, grabs my hands. “You have to do something, Nico. You must—”
“Ah! Nico!” My father cuts off whatever she was about to say when he enters the room, sits down at the place she’s not set for him but is currently righting.
I nod his way. “Father. So nice to see you.” When I catch my mother’s eyes again, it’s like our conversation leading up to this never happened. She’s smiling, humming a tune, and pouring my father a cup of tea.
“Sugar?” she asks.
“Please.” He tips his cup so she can add sugar and cream, then she resumes her seat. Smiles as my father takes over the conversation. “I hear great things are happening since today’s Offering!”
“Oh, yeah?” It’s news to me.
“More Night soldiers captured … Dogio and Basso alike signing up to join the Imperi army in droves … Blessed be the light, this war will be won before we know it.”
“What a difference one ceremony makes!” My mother chimes in, a completely different person than I saw a minute ago. It’s dizzying. She was trying to tell me something. I swear she still is, but it’s no good with my father here.
A couple of times she tries to get him to leave, but he completely dismisses her requests. Dismissive of my mother. It’s been my father’s way as long as I can remember. Banishing her to her garden when he wanted to speak to me about duty.
In reality, my mother has more sway in Dogio society than my father ever will.
The hourglass my mother set fills at exactly one hour, and she all but shoos me out the door. “My deal with the High Regent was for exactly one hour of your time, no more.” She places her hands on my shoulder. “We know how busy you are, Nico. You’re doing great things, my son. Great, honorable things.” Again, it’s like she’s trying to tell me something, but I’m not following.
Mother gives me a lingering embrace.
Father shakes my hand far too enthusiastically, like I’ve seen him do with at least ten different Imperi officials.
And I leave my once-home.
It’s no longer the house I knew.
Not really.
I walk down the front entryway and to the road. I’m expecting to find Salazar waiting there for me, eyeing his hourglass.
But he’s not.
I don’t see him anywhere until I do.
There, at the tree line before the thick forest is Salazar. He’s leaning in closely toward a Basso man. Speaking in hushed whispers.
I’m frozen.
Heir Denali would—should—call him out. Force the truth out of him, because this isn’t normal Imperi behavior. Especially not for the High Regent’s right-hand man.
But Nico Denali … he definitely feels he’s eavesdropping on a private moment.
If I wasn’t so conflicted, I’d turn around and march back into my house. Pretend I never saw anything.
I’m about to make a call when our eyes meet.
From across the span of the wide walkway I see Salazar physically regain his composure.
He barks something at the Basso man, who quickly retreats into the forest.
Then Salazar marches right toward me.
“Apologies, my lord. I try to keep them out of your direct line of sight.”
“Them?” I ask.
“The Basso. They’re constantly asking after you. Requesting you look into their missing loved ones.” He shakes his head in disgust. “I personally intercept multiple letters and attempts at contact daily.” He motions toward the forest. “That one was particularly pushy.”
“Oh … Right…” We begin the walk back. “Thank you, Salazar.”
But that’s not what I just witnessed.
Not at all.
I’M TRYING TO find a way to ask Salazar more about the encounter without alerting him to my suspicion when we turn a corner to cut through one of the piazzas near a Basso village.
The already awful atmosphere takes a horrible turn.
I’ve seen the memorials of the missing, and I’ve seen the ones in the Lower for the Lunalette. Each is unique and each is draped in sadness and despair as if they’re erected once all hope is gone yet giving up isn’t an option.
But this …
This is a graveyard of memorials for the missing. It’s as if every memorial on the island was collected, moved here, and another hundred were added. Candle after dripping candle surrounds and fills the dry fountain in the middle of the square. Photos, drawings, letters, and a thousand different kinds of blessings scatter from one end of the piazza to the other.
Salazar gives an audible gasp at the sight. Then, “I knew more had been taken, but … My Sun…” When I look at him, his palm is plastered over his mouth and tears glaze his eyes.
“Why wasn’t I told about this?”
He looks back at me. “The High Regent said he’d given you the records of the missing Basso, yes?”
Right. “He did. I’m sorry, yes, he did. The sight really threw me—I had no idea the sheer number of them.”
He nods and composes himself at once. Squares his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Shall we continue on?” Salazar points to the other side of the fountain where the walkway continues through a tunnel.
But as we make our way, we pass an Imperi army recruitment table. Two officers sit behind it before the backdrop of a red curtain. I stop to read the large posting tacked to the curtain: JOIN THE IMPERI! THE NIGHT MUST FALL!
There’s a line formed that begins at the table and extends as far as the eye can see until it wraps around a corner.
Sun almighty. They’re joining the Imperi to stop the Night from taking their neighbors and family members, when, in truth, they’re joining the very side who’s hurting them most. And they have no idea.
Raevald’s not only power hungry and without empathy, he’s also a genius.
The High Regent’s words come flooding back: Keep them in fear.
But keep them where you can see them, so you can better control their fear.
And damn it all that this is the perfect opportunity for Heir Denali to play right into it.
I start toward the table.
“My lord—” Salazar calls behind me.
I ignore him because regardless of what I just saw between him and that Basso, however much he tries to be more a confidant than a mentor, Salazar is Raevald’s eyes and ears. He’s always watching.
Observing my reactions, my manner, how I’m breathing, how I speak to people.
I have to be ready to give a show when even the smallest opportunity arises because this is all about earning Raevald’s trust. Even when he’s not around. Especially when he’s not around.
I put my hand up, motion to Salazar I won’t be following him back to the palace.
Approaching the table, I salute the officers, who stand and salute back.
“May I?” I say, already making my way behind the table. I climb up onto one of the chairs—create my own personal perch. Oh, how proud the High Regent would be if he could see me now taking a note straight out of his own book.
Salazar begins to protest. “Are you sure, Heir Denali?”
I nod once. “I am.”
“But…” I stare down, give him a look that clearly conveys my insistence, the fact I won’t be talked out of it, because he responds with, “Yes, Heir Denali.”
The line, those slowly gathering around the piazza, hush their chatter until there’s complete silence. The only noise is the wind whistling through the banner behind me, shuffling memorial letters and photos to flap and swirl like small cyclones against the brick ground.
I clear my throat, gaze out over the sea of earthen hues that surrounds me. Beiges and tans and olive greens—all colors I associate with Veda. And these Bellonians are being taken and brutally imprisoned. Or worse. And based on the High Regent’s stack of “Basso killed by the Night” documents, I fear the latter.
I know what I have to do.
And what I have to do goes against every bone in my body.
Truly, I want to shout, “Go home! Don’t fall for either side’s tactics! Just wait … Give me some time … I’ll try to fix this!”
Unfortunately, real life isn’t so black and white.
There’s too much red mixed in for it to be so simple.
With a deep breath, a subtle crack of my neck, I stand tall. Surveying my dedicated subjects, fellow Bellonians, I address the crowd.
“Loyal citizens of Bellona, as you know, we are at war.” And it occurs to me in this very moment that I can speak to them from the heart, I just cannot explain that in my mind I’m not speaking for Raevald’s best interests, but for theirs. “Now is the time to come together. We are all fighting the same battle against evil, and when you’re at war, there cannot be division within your own faction. That way lies certain defeat.” I pause for effect. All eyes are on me. “So I ask of you—plead of you—for the greater good of Bellona, please put aside your differences. In this moment we are not Basso or Dogio. We are Bellonians. And we must defend our island.” I raise my arms toward the crowd. “You all are my heroes. Joining to fight, supporting the Imperi in this, our greatest time of need, is a testament to your loyalty, your sacrifice, and your dedication. For Sun and nation.” Once more, I pause. “Blessed be the light.”
And they repeat it.
More join the recruitment line.
Even some Dogio who were gathered on the outskirts step up for recruitment.
Some are much younger than I am.
As Salazar and I head back to the walkway, an explosion goes off. It’s close. So close we both duck for cover.
When we stand back up, there’s a dark plume of smoke on the other side of the tree line near the entrance to the main tunnel.
The officers who were behind the recruitment table rush to the scene along with a handful of freshly signed up soldiers.
Salazar stands up, looks my way. “My lord—don’t—it’s an—”
But I don’t hear the rest because I’m already racing toward the explosion.
Regardless of what side I’m pretending to be on, what side I’m truly on—I’m going to help.
Even as heir of Bellona.
Especially as heir of Bellona.