Making our way up to the Sindaco’s personal quarters inside the Crag, the silence is blaring as my mind goes wild with what ifs.
Dorian and I have speculated as much as we can about what the Sindaco might possibly be up to with the mines: He’s going to set a trap for the Imperi … Maybe he plans to create a diversion somewhere on the island through a large explosion … Or possibly, he’s going to cart them to the front door of the palace and finally exact revenge on his father … All, unfortunately, plausible.
When we reach the Sindaco’s door, it’s slightly ajar.
“Sir?” Dorian calls, but no one answers. “Sindaco?” He pushes the door open, but struggles against something or several somethings pushed up against it. Dorian’s being careful not to be too loud or too destructive, and it’s driving me mad.
Stepping to the side, I kick the door open with one blow.
“Shit, Veda!”
“What? You were taking forever and a day.”
“A bit of warning next time, eh?”
“Maybe.”
He’s definitely about to say something sarcastic when we both actually look into the cave.
“My Moon…,” I whisper at the same time Dorian swears.
It’s pure chaos. Tacked and nailed all over the stone walls so you wouldn’t know it was stone at all are maps and plans and diagrams and notes. Some make sense—the map of Bellona, soldiers’ movements, weapons counts—but others are in a sort of coded language, written with symbols and numerals the likes of which I’ve never seen.
“Sindaco?” Dorian calls once more, and like a ground weasel peeking out of its hole, the Sindaco looks around the corner from the adjoining cave.
“Oh!” he says, making his way in to greet us. “Did we have a meeting?” He glances at his hourglass.
“No,” I say. “Not quite.”
“Well then, I’m very busy, as you know.” He scuffs the hair shadowing his face. “The weapon is almost ready. I’ve been putting on the final touches.”
“That’s actually part of why we’re here, Sindaco.”
“Why’s that?” The Sindaco’s so distracted he can’t even make eye contact. Currently, he’s studying a paper he pulled from his breast pocket.
“Well.” Dorian eyes me. “When Veda and I went looking for you, we started at the contraption’s—”
“Weapon,” Sindaco cuts in.
“Yes, sorry, the weapon’s location, and we stumbled upon something odd. Something very much out of place.”
To this he glares upward but doesn’t say a word.
I take over. “There were mines stacked all around it, like they’re being moved from some other location. Do you know about this?”
“My Moon!” He crumples the paper he was studying and throws it onto the ground. “Those aren’t supposed to be down there.” He stands, makes his way to the door. “Of all the careless things … I’ll take care of it at once.”
“Before you do, can we speak with you?”
“Yes … Yes … Just be quick about it. We don’t want the entire tunnel to blow, now do we?”
“No, of course not. We can talk as we make our way down. Dorian and I can help remove them.”
“No—I won’t have you down there. It’s too risky.” He seems to catch himself, his sharp tone. “I apologize, Veda, I’ve not slept in some time. I truly believe this weapon will help us win the war, and it’s almost ready.”
Something isn’t right, but it’s obvious I’m not going to get any clear answers from him while he’s in such a state.
“Go on … You had something to tell me?” he urges.
“Yes, of course, I’ve been communicating with Nico, and he—we believe—we’ve found a way to end the war.”
“End the war?” Brow furrowed, he stares across the cave at me.
“Sir—” Dorian steps in. “Things aren’t going well on either side. Lives lost … Destruction … Food scarcities … We must find a peaceful solution before all is lost.”
He’s already shaking his head before Dorian finished speaking. “No … We’re too far in now. The only way to end this is for one side to win. It was never going to end peacefully. Don’t you see? The Imperi and the Night cannot coexist. It’s one or the other, and I intend for it to be the Night that comes out victorious. But first we have to come together.”
Dorian and I make eye contact, and I can tell we’re thinking similar thoughts. There’s no sense in going into our plan.
The Sindaco is dead set on winning his war or taking everyone down with him as he tries.
And Raevald’s the same.
“You’re right, sir,” Dorian says. “I’m not sure what we were thinking. What can we do to help you prepare the weapon?”
“Thank you, but—” He’s heading for the door in a hurry. “Just keep the soldiers in good spirits. Keep going up, working to claim Imperi strongholds. Leave the weapon to me.”
Dorian salutes. “Yes, Sindaco.”
AS SECOND- AND third-in-command, Dorian and I agreed now was the time.
The Sindaco has mentally gone AWOL.
We have to move on without him.
Knowing the whole of the Night will be in the cavern having lunch, that’s where we head.
It’s loud, the raucous sounds of eating and chatter filling the space and echoing off the walls. But the farther I move into the cave, the quieter it becomes. Until I make my way to the platform where the Sindaco usually addresses us, Dorian at my side.
As next in command, we have every right to be here.
Gazing out over the battle-tired, confused crowd, I start. “I have something to say—it won’t take long.” I pause for breath, to construct my thoughts. I catch Dorian’s eyes. He nods. Then I find Imi and Bronwyn and Xavier not far away. “Please know I’m choosing my words carefully, that everything I’m about to say is fully thought out and of the utmost importance.” Again, I pause, take in all their faces, how they wait with bated breath hanging on my every syllable because I wouldn’t be standing up here if it wasn’t important. “The time has come to end this war. Fighting the Imperi will only get us so far. We’ve been battling for decades and where has that gotten us? What have we gained? A scrap of beach isn’t worth the lives lost.” Many are nodding in agreement. “The Night and the Imperi have been divided far too long. And if we stay divided, if we continue to fight, I fear this war will never end.” I gaze at as many eyes as I can focus on with my eyes misting over, a small knot of emotion taking hold of my throat. “We’ve all lost someone we love.” I motion to the island above. “They’ve all lost someone they love. The war must end. But to do that, I need your help. Your support. And mostly, your willingness to come together with your fellow Bellonians.” There’s a bit of mumbling among them as I’m sure they’re curious what I’m going to suggest. “You welcomed me as your Lunalette to bring peace. To bring revolution. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
The majority of my fellow Night family applaud and shout out “Huzzah!” and “Here, here!” and “We support you, Lunalette!” With that, I dive into deeper, darker waters, unsure of how they’ll accept the next part.
“Nico Denali, heir of Bellona, is our greatest ally right now.” As expected, they whisper and speculate, probably think I’ve gone completely mad. I raise my hand. “Hear me out, please. He wants to end this decades- long conflict just as I do. As it stands now, we’re getting nowhere except deeper and deeper into a hellish war with no end in sight.”
Still, they eye me, their Lunalette, with suspicion. “Don’t you see?” I continue. “Raevald feeds on the division, the hatred. With every battle, every Imperi soldier we take prisoner, he uses it to keep the story going … To perpetuate what so many Bellonians believe: that we’re evil. That we only seek to harm them, that we want the island all to ourselves or will gladly see it burn.”
This seems to strike a chord with many of them. I pull the medallions from my pocket. “I secretly met with Heir Denali yesterday.” Dorian shifts uncomfortably at my side. I have to ignore it. “He’s found proof of the High Regent’s crimes against the Basso … Proof he’s been lying about the Night taking them … Proof that will not only bring down Raevald, but also restore our reputation, our good name.” I hold one of the medallions up. “It’s an Offering medallion. Every Bellonian has one, but as many of you know, they’re sacred. Kept under lock and key even after one is Offered.” I shake my head, my disgust and anger so very real I squeeze my empty hand into a fist so my fingernails dig into my palm. “There are hundreds of them. Each one bears the name of a Basso who’s gone missing. A Basso who was said to have been taken by the Night.”
Confusion, murmurings, a handful of calls for revenge fill the cavern. “No,” I demand firmly. “Vengeance will come, but not on the battlefield. We’ve lost enough already. The plan is simple: Share this information with all of your contacts on the island. Let the truth spread. The rest of the medallions will be revealed in time, but for now, we”—I motion toward Dorian—“are ceasing all missions. The war, our involvement in it outside of defense and defense only, stops now.”
And I see him.
The Sindaco reveals himself around the corner of the Lunalette tapestry. He seems like he’s going to say something. To scold me or reprimand me, tell me this isn’t my place.
With the most stinging eye contact, I challenge him. Do it. If you ruin this, I’ll ruin you. Because I’ve got more on him than he does on me.
He turns and leaves, walks straight out the door.
Is he abandoning the Night? Me?
It’s both what I expected and exactly what I’d hoped wouldn’t happen.
He’s not seen by anyone but me, and I start to wonder if I truly saw him at all.
That’s how absent he’s been—he’s nearly invisible sneaking around here and there under the cover of shadows. The Sindaco’s become exactly the image Raevald’s worked so hard to create.
The medallions are passed around, examined. I’m certain there are still several skeptics. The Imperi have worked hard not only to tarnish the Night in the eyes of Bellona but also, in doing that, created great enemies. And anyone associated with Raevald—like Nico—for many down here, isn’t to be trusted. Ever.
But they trust me.
At least I hope they still do.
Many Night members approach me, thanking me for my courage and my leadership. I tell them I’m only doing what I think is right (knowing deep down I could be completely wrong and this could all backfire horribly).
Someone must.
FOR THE LONGEST time I can’t rest, much less sleep. I know I need to. I’ve got to have a clear head, a strong body, because there’s no telling what the next few days might bring.
But it’s useless.
Too many images pass through my mind. Most of them have big, brown eyes, a smile with a dimple to die for, and perfectly delicious lips, but all of that loveliness is spoiled by thoughts of the Sindaco and his weapon.
The Great Destroyer, he’d called it.
The scene we stumbled into in his office in the Crag.
Whatever that was, whoever that version of the Sindaco was, it’s not good.
Finally, I slip into a certain level of calm, but I still don’t enjoy a moment of sleep. Because the space behind my eyelids is marred with land mines and marked-up maps, the Sindaco’s betrayed stare and those symbols, so many strange symbols.
The piles of papers and books, burned-out lanterns. It was like he’d been holed up there for days.
But the look in his eyes.
And what had he said? Something about being forced to come together. The words so bizarre and ominous, practically a code in and of themselves.
That’s when I sit straight up.
When the truth, the possibly horrible truth, hits me with a jolt.
He wouldn’t.
Would he?
Because the Sindaco’s final words were a sort of symbol.
Not unlike the Lunalette.
“This war isn’t going to end unless we’re forced to come together.” He’d motioned toward one of his maps. The one zoomed in over the northwest tip of the island. The one with beaches and rocks. The Crag. A dormant volcano. The same dormant volcano where the Sindaco’s weapon is buried right underneath. The weapon now surrounded by mines.
I grab my atlatl, slip on my boots without bothering to lace them, and run out of my cave.
“Dorian!” I shout down the hallway, but don’t take time to stop. “The Crag!” I yell, as if he’s going to understand.
He must not hear me or he’s not in his room, and I don’t have time to go back, shake him awake or hunt him down.
I’ll have to do this alone.
THE SINDACO’S NOT with the weapon. All is as we left it hours earlier: dark, the weapon as dormant as this volcano, pile of land mines stacked on one side.
But wait—
I lower my lantern toward the stack. There’s definitely more now, a series of wires linking them that I’m sure wasn’t there earlier. I follow the wiring along the floor and up the wall where there’s a hole.
I step closer.
More mines are tucked up into the ceiling, another wire coming out from the crudely carved cavern.
That wire leads to another hole, more mines, and so on all around the cave. This cavern is literally set to blow.
I move toward the mines and wires on the floor, wonder if there’s some way to easily disconnect them. I pull out my blade, kneel down, but don’t even know where to begin.
Could cutting one set off any of the others?
I’ve got to find help.
I head back to the main cave where most everyone should still be gathered. I’m hoping to find Dorian—that he’ll somehow know about the wires or know of someone who might.
I sprint as fast as I can.
Up, down, around, I’m not even sure how I find my way so fast, but I do and I’m entering the main cave and what I stumble upon isn’t at all what I expect.
Yes, most of the Night is still gathered.
But the Sindaco’s beat me to it.
They’re sitting before the leader of the Night who remarkably seems back to himself.
That is, until I hear what he’s saying.
He’s holding up a certain children’s book.
“She made it all up! And now she’s trying to take you down with her.” He spots me in the back of the room. Points right at me so all eyes are instantly set in my direction. “There was never a Lunalette—Veda Adeline, you are a traitor and a liar!” he shouts.
But no one moves.
“Arrest her!” the Sindaco yells.
Still nothing.
There’s a bit of mumbling … Whispers here and there …
Dorian climbs up onto a chair. “The truth is, the Sindaco is Veda’s father.”
“More lies!” he shouts.
I climb up onto a chair. Speak as loudly as I can. “He used the story from that book to make up the Lunalette prophecy.” I look out over a hundred confused faces. “So, yes, he’s right, there was never a Lunalette, and I’m certainly not the savior you all thought you’d been waiting for.” I glare at the Sindaco. “But it was his lie, not mine. He’s been wanting this war and revenge on Raevald since the day my mother was killed. Creating the Lunalette was a way to gain support. Rally you all behind him. I’m so sorry.” My voice breaks. “I wanted to be your Lunalette, but I’m not. It’s just a story.”
“No!” someone shouts. I can’t find them in the crowd.
And another: “You may not be Lunalette, but you are our savior!”
“Here, here!” Xavier shouts, his voice booming throughout the cavern.
Imi and Bronwyn, others join in with, “Here, here!” and “Huzzah!”
As my eyes fill with emotion and my chest swells, I pull myself back to the reason I sounded the alarm. The Sindaco and his weapon. The volcano.
When I find the Sindaco, his eyes have gone red in a way I’ve never seen before. Not in his eyes, but definitely in Raevald’s. He’s staring daggers at me but also looking through me. The man has stepped down off the platform and, eyes set on me, marches directly for where I stand.
Dorian sees this.
He steps down from his own chair.
I’m about to shout out in warning when the Sindaco breaks into a full-out run straight for me, pushing bodies out of his way as he plows through the crowd.
I jump down off the chair.
The Sindaco—my father—reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a long blade, raises it, ready to strike me—his daughter, leader of his own creation and ultimately his own downfall, when several things happen all at once:
I jump out of the way at the same time Imi moves forward to shield me, pushing me to the ground.
The crowd shrieks in horror at his actions.
The Sindaco skids to a stop when he sees everyone’s turned on him. He runs in the opposite direction.
Dorian chases after him, grabs him by the arm to stop him.
That knife held above the Sindaco’s head bears down into Dorian’s shoulder.
He cries out in pain.
Falls to the ground.
I race to Dorian, throw myself over him, take off my jacket and wrap it around his shoulder.
“Oh my Sun … Oh my Sun…”
“You always did love … the Sun…,” he barely manages, staring up at me. Taking a dig even when in horrible pain. Pushing my hair out of my eyes, his hand shaking, he says, “You have to … stop him.”
And I notice the Sindaco’s disappeared.
“Take care of him,” I demand, staring at Imi and Bron, who are right there but also speaking to the room. When I look back at Dorian his breathing has definitely slowed, his blood is soaking through the black fabric of my jacket and staining my hand as I hold pressure to his wound. “I’ll be back soon—I promise.” He doesn’t open his eyes but gives a small airy laugh the way he always does. I take his hands in mine, squeeze, try to express how much I truly care for him, love him—an impossible thing to do.
But it’s just a shoulder injury, right? He’ll be fine. Of course he’ll be fine.
Still, my heart aches.
There’s too much blood for “fine.”
Like he knows what I’m thinking, Dorian’s eyes pry open. “My Moon, V, go!” And he pushes me away.
Right.
I stand and run out of the cave not looking back.
LIKE A NIGHTMARE, I’m reliving my steps. Back and forth, back and forth. To no end, I might be doomed to trace this route for the rest of my life.
When, yet again, I spot the red door below the Crag, I attempt to bust it open. But when I push the metal door with my palms, it doesn’t move.
He’s either locked it or barricaded it.
“Sindaco!” I shout.
“It’s too late, Veda,” he speaks, his words muffled, from the other side of the door.
“It’s not!” I try my best to rein in my anger, my complete hatred for the man right now and see that somehow in that confused, misguided head of his, he thinks he’s doing the right thing. Bringing an end to the war by forcing the two sides together. With his Destroyer. “There’s still time. We can work together. Father!” The word coming off my lips is strange, but I’ve got to get through to him. “Please! This isn’t the way. You’re going to kill us all. Don’t you see?”
No answer. I pound on the door. Pull one of my spears from the quiver, begin working on the lock.
“I know you think what you’re doing will end the war, but the damage will be irrevocable.”
“You’re wrong,” he says, and I can tell he’s moved across the room.
“Can’t you see? This is no better than Raevald killing innocent Basso to help wage the war.”
“But I’ll be stopping it. Stopping him.”
“Yes, but at what price?”
No answer.
“Sindaco!”
Still nothing.
I drive the spear into the lock repeatedly until, thank the Moon and the Sun both, the damn door unhinges and pushes open.
Searching the room, I spot the Sindaco.
He’s crouched over a mound of mines at the base of the weapon, a single match hovering over what I assume is the fuse.
“Please stop,” I say. “You can stop.”
“I’m sorry, Veda.” He shakes his head. “I tried my best.”
“Please, no!”
“This is me making it right again.”
There’s no convincing him.
No time to stop him.
I turn and run.
I keep running.
Once I’m nearly back to the main cavern I wonder if he changed his mind.
If the fuse didn’t catch.
If he finally came to his senses.
If the mines failed.
If—