Thanks to Veda I was able to avoid falling victim to yet another Night soldier’s arrow. It wasn’t meant for me this time, but there’s no doubt I’d have likely gotten caught in the middle of what ended in bloodshed.
But it’s Salazar who jerks me away from the explosion.
I fall nearby but keep my eyes on Veda’s until she too is pulled away and then the tunnel closes in.
A large piece of rock hits my head, and warm blood trickles into my right eye. I smear it away with my hand.
As I try to stand, smoke clutches the icy ground all around me.
Sulfur and the woodsy smolder of nearby trees fills the air.
There’s painful moaning.
I didn’t realize the sour scent of blood could fill an open-air space, but it can.
And it does.
The walk back to the palace is a haze.
The next hour or so rushes by in a slow blur. I only recall snippets …
Blood on my hands, is it mine? That soldier I saw fall to the ground?
The High Regent comes to visit me. Congratulates me. For what, I don’t recall, but he’s thrilled, a wide grin stretched across his face. “You’ve stepped up, Nico, I’m proud of you.” That part I do remember. Then thinking, Ah yes, I’ve finally won him over.
I bathe. The water turns rusty red, is drained and refilled until it runs clear again.
Salazar helps me dress.
A doctor examines my head.
I’ll live. He blesses the Sun for protecting me, heir to Bellona.
I AWAKEN IN the middle of the night with a splitting headache. I light a lamp to discover cold tea long since delivered to my residence, a basket of stale muffins left alongside it. One is blueberry.
Under the dim light, I read Veda’s letter.
The first part allows me to temporarily escape the horror of what will forever live in my mind.
The second part reminds me of how broken it all still is and how the two of us might as well have the weight of the world stacked against us.
And the last bit simply makes me smile.
Long to be with her again.
We were so close only moments ago.
Even surrounded by the horrors of war, if only for a fraction of a second, somehow we were able to connect.
And, once again, we were torn apart. Dragged to our respective sides, fire erupting between us.
I glance at the hourglass and then quickly take out paper and pen.
Ink drips on the page, smears across my palm, as I carefully but swiftly craft a new letter.
Veda,
I must see you.
And not on the battlefield.
Please don’t let us ever meet again on the battlefield.
I’m always being watched here except at night when in my room. I don’t know how to get to you, but please, dear Lunalette, find your way to me?
We must devise how to end this war but in person.
No more letters.
Be safe.
Love,
Nico
WHEN I AWAKEN the next morning, the muffin with Veda’s letter and tea have disappeared.
I stare out the window. The sun is bright and the snow is melting down, but it’s still freezing, leaving everything glazed under a thin sheet of ice. Sun knows what’s hidden beneath.
With that image—one mixed with flower petals frozen in time, the personal possessions of soldiers who died on the battlefields covered below inches of frost, and mud beetles deep in hibernation—my mind goes to another hidden place. Right here in the palace.
Of a room that seemed to contain Raevald’s secrets, things he’s ashamed of or doesn’t want the public to find out. Mementos of deeds he couldn’t quite let go of.
Mementos … trophies, more like.
And something hits me.
I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.
If logic serves me, something I need might also hide in that exact room.
That pile of documents before him the other evening.
He did not want me to see them. The way he not so casually pulled them toward him and out of my line of sight while distracting me with the list of “missing” Basso, his speech about how it should please me.
I throw on my clothes, dart from my room, and make my way to the spiral staircase that leads to that musty cellar. I descend the stairs two at a time, praying Salazar isn’t already on my heels.
The room is just as I last left it. Lanterns lit. Everything in its place. A sort of ordered chaos. I march straight to the door behind the shelf and squeeze through.
There, just as before, are the portraits of a young Sindaco, a youthful Raevald posing with his family. To the right is Veda’s atlatl. To the left, a few ceramic vases, a pile of tapestries. No desk or chest or anything that might hide important documents.
Damn it.
It had made sense only five minutes ago, but now the notion he’d store something like that here is preposterous.
I’m sure they’re under lock and key in a desk, hidden in a secret room within a secret closet.
But while I’m down here, I’ll check the shelves, see if anything is tucked away.
Snaking my way back out the cramped door and between the shelves, I freeze. The atlatl.
I’m not sure what I plan to do with it or how I plan to get it back up to my room, but I’m more and more certain now might be my last chance. If the High Regent gets word I was back down here, he’ll lock it up for sure.
Quickly, I reenter the room, but when I do, I bump into the door, which hits one of the clay pots and starts a domino effect. The five large ceramic vases tip into another one by one. I hold my breath and watch as each one falls and tips the other over when, thank the Sun, a rolled-up carpet breaks the last one’s fall. They’re left stacked diagonally like ancient ruins.
I release a breath, allow my shoulders to soften, and make a beeline to the atlatl. It’s still in the canvas bag. I sling it over my shoulder, take four large steps, when the closest vase to me shifts, losing its lid, which falls to the floor and shatters.
I’m about to run for it but am stopped cold at the sight.
Not the broken glass, but the contents of the vase.
I step closer.
Spilling out of what most resembles an ornate urn is a small pile of Offering medallions. I look inside the vase. Hundreds more fill it.
These are sacred. Kept in the Coliseum temple—a small room at the very top of the arena that faces the sun. Those medallions of the Offered remain there always—turned over to the Sun.
But I pluck one from off the floor. Then another. The names don’t resemble anyone who’s been Offered. Not that I can recall.
I pull the copy of the list of missing Basso from my pocket. Scan the names.
Find one matching the medallions.
Then two more.
Another.
“My Sun…,” I swear under my breath. They’re all here. Each and every one of them. All hidden away without ceremony. Stuck in a vase underneath the belly of the High Regent’s palace. Another one of his dirty little secrets.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even think, just act.
Swiftly, as quietly and carefully as possible, I pick up each of the vases, righting them as if nothing ever happened. I then grab a handful of medallions, then another, dump them into the canvas bag alongside Veda’s atlatl and spears.
I throw the broken pieces of the lid inside the bag to cover my tracks and remove one of the other ceramic lids to cover the rest of the medallions. I couldn’t possibly take them all—I’d never be able to lift it.
But I’ve got enough to prove what I need to.
With one final glance to be sure everything is back in its place, more or less, I leave.
Quickly, like a phantom, I glide through the door, up the stairs, down the hall, and into my room.
I slice the bottom of my mattress and hide the bag up inside it.
Just as I’m collapsing into the desk chair, wipe my brow, and enjoy one quick, relieved breath, Salazar enters.
He’s eating a blueberry muffin.
Bronwyn is two steps behind him, carting in the morning tea and, yes, a blueberry muffin. We share a glance, and I send a prayer up that Salazar doesn’t pull a blueberry-stained note from his mouth.
“Lord Denali, have you had the good fortune of trying one of these?”
I stand. “I have. Daily. They’re my favorite.”
Bronwyn sets down the tray, and there’s only one blueberry muffin left. The one I hope has a quick reply from Veda.
But before I can grab it, Salazar picks it up, sets it on a napkin. “I’m going to take this to the High Regent—he’s got to taste these.”
Bronwyn steps forward, reaches out for the muffin. “That one’s been sitting out a while. I’ve got a new batch in the oven—they’re much better warm. Allow me to prepare him a fresh basketful?”
Salazar considers this for a second, then pushes the plate away. “That would be nice, thank you. When will they be finished?” But before she can answer he requests she bring them up right away along with coffee. “We’ll be needing something stronger than tea this morning.”
“Of course. My pleasure, sir.” Bronwyn casually picks up the plate with the blueberry muffin and sets it in the basket. But she freezes momentarily—I assume because she’s trying to figure a way to get the muffin back to me without being obvious.
At the same time, I lift my eyebrows, try to get her to look at me so I can motion she get out of here when Salazar clears his throat. She seems to regain composure right as he says, “The coffee?”
Bronwyn snaps out of it and leaves without a word.
Once she closes the door, he faces me. “Am I that terrifying?”
“The scariest.”
We share a light laugh.
“It was because I mentioned the High Regent, wasn’t it?”
“That might have had something to do with it. I get the impression the Basso fear him.” I’m being facetious, but he either doesn’t pick up on it or chooses to ignore it.
“I should probably try to be more sensitive…”
“Mmm…”
He shrugs. “It’s just not my nature, I suppose.”
Salazar can be so hard to read. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s a total softy on the inside. Something about him is all appearances. Which reminds me … the minute I get that blueberry muffin I need to read Veda’s note.
Which means Salazar cannot be here.
And once I read her note, I’ve got to write back, tell her about the medallions I found.
I’m about to come up with some excuse, something I need right now and only Salazar can get for me, when Bronwyn reenters. She sets the coffee tray on the table, then leaves a small plate with eggs, sausage, and toast before me.
She glances my way. “Doctor’s orders … extra protein to help build your strength after your injury.”
Ah. I nod. “Thank you.”
She sets a small basket full of blueberry muffins before Salazar. “For the High Regent.”
“Thank you … Very nice of you…” Salazar tries his hand at niceties, but it comes out very awkward.
Bronwyn only gives him a small, close-lipped smile and leaves.
Salazar pours us both a cup of coffee, and I pick at my eggs, worried a note could pop out from under my food any moment because I have no idea where Bronwyn might have re-hidden it.
“So…,” I say. “What’s so pressing today we needed a kettle of coffee?”
He takes a long sip. “Well, I assume you slept about as peacefully as I did after yesterday.”
“I’m very tired, yes. And sore.”
He nods knowingly. “Mostly, the coffee’s for me. The High Regent is in an extra aggravated state this morning.”
“Why is that?”
“Your mother…”
“That’s not what I expected.”
“Well, it’s not your mother per se, but what she’s done to put the High Regent in a foul mood.”
“Oh?” I can’t possibly imagine what it could be.
“She heard about you getting in the middle of the battle last night—does she literally have eyes and ears all over the island?”
“Yes.” I smile.
He raises his brow and nods. “Well, she’s demanded the High Regent grant you an extra visit this week.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“But can you really blame her? I mean, her only son was in a battle he hadn’t planned to fight last night. And I could certainly use the fresh air.”
“Yes, I know … And I tried explaining that to the High Regent, but he had other plans for you this morning. However, as plans go, we were able to rearrange. All is well.”
“That’s a relief.”
This time Salazar picks up on my sarcasm and gives a small grin. “While he’s away on his military retreat—and after you meet with your mother—the High Regent wants you to spend the whole day making recruitment speeches. He was very impressed with the turnout you garnered yesterday after talking to those at the enlistment table.”
“I enjoyed it.” A lie.
“Good. You’ll be doing it all day but after you see your mother.”
“Perfect.” But I’m thinking of my mother, what she tried to tell me last time, how, with her influence, she’s inserted herself into the veins of Bellonian social networks … If anyone can give me more information about the medallions I found, it’s her. I also know, deep down, there’s no love lost between her and Raevald.
And if there’s anyone I can emphatically trust, it’s her. But I have to get Salazar out of here before I can get to the medallions I’ve hidden, read Veda’s letter.
I glance down at the basket of muffins getting cold in front of him. “You might want to…” I motion toward the basket.
“Shit. Right.” He drains his coffee cup and stands. “Anything that might improve his mood.” Salazar lifts the basket, then glances at the hourglass on my desk. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes with your uniform.”
“My uniform?”
“The High Regent wants you in full officer’s uniform for the speeches.”
Of course he does.
The minute he leaves I dig into my eggs, tear the toast up to shreds, and move the sausage around, but there’s nothing.
That is, until I lift the plate. There, stuck to the bottom with a bit of what looks like jam is a blueberry-stained letter.
Veda’s letter.