The Imperi guard’s tone isn’t threatening. Still commanding, though.
I’m clutching the gold medallion in my fist in case she makes a move to attack me.
But I really don’t think that’s why she’s here.
“Hello?” she whispers again, more urgent this time.
I step to the side, put some distance between us. Then, “Yes?”
She swears under her breath. “You’re right there?”
“I am.”
She lights a single match and sets a small candle ablaze.
I stare at her from the corner of my eyes. She catches my stare, then keeps her sight straight ahead. “I … I heard what the High Regent said. About you being his…” The word trails off like she’s thinking. She can take all the time in the world; I’m so relieved she heard our conversation. I lean in slightly. Raise my eyebrows waiting on her to finish her sentence. “His…” She speaks more forcefully now. “Granddaughter. Is it true? And his son is … My Sun, it can’t be…” It’s like she’s in shock, and I suppose I can’t blame her. It took me a while to come around too. “I’m…” She shakes her head. “It’s just so hard to believe. I’m even doubting my own ears because I cannot imagine how the High Regent could speak of his own son in such a way. So cold and uncaring.”
“I think I know a very different Raevald than you.” I’d laugh if I had it in me.
I swear her face has gone paler since she entered. The candle in her grip shakes under the slight quiver of her hand.
I risk a step closer. “Are you all right?”
The guard snaps out of it, gains her composure, and seems to remember who she is and who I am. Why we’re both here. She takes a large step back, widening the distance I tried to bridge.
“What I came here to say is—it can’t be true. I must have heard him wrong.” She meets my eyes with hers, making a point to zero in on my hand holding the medallion. I lean my body against the wall. Slowly slide down it until I’m sitting on the floor. “But…,” she adds, still staring at me, “I’m going to investigate further.”
The officer sort of nods to herself. Then she opens the door, blows the candle out, and leaves, bolting it shut again.
I’ll take it.
I LIE ON my back, tap-tap-tapping the golden Offering medallion against the stone floor so it begins to make a song. A sad sort of melody composed only of scratches and clicks. If it wasn’t me doing the composing I’d probably kill whoever was forcing me to listen to such nonsense. But I’m finding it quite soothing.
The new noise breaks the monotony.
Parts the darkness closing in like a fresh breeze through thick fog.
Helps me think.
Because there’s much to consider.
Despite there being so much I can’t escape coming back to Nico …
Always to Nico …
Could Nico’s arrow wound have killed him? My stomach turns over what little contents it holds at the thought, the memory of so much blood. How there was so much it soaked his shirt and stained my hands. The way he kept begging me to go and how each word pained him.
The look in his eyes when they dragged him away: shocked, angry, eyes unwavering, set on mine as he called my name.
The Night—all black, hooded—surrounded him, pulled him by the arms as he screamed in pain. They were just coming back for me when I was taken away by the Imperi.
But they took Nico first, didn’t they?
They took him first.
The Sindaco knows Nico’s value.
My one saving grace is knowing the Sindaco wouldn’t touch a hair on Nico’s head, much less execute or torture him.
But Nico’s wound … His wound was severe.
No. Stop.
I shift my focus to the officer. My guard. She wasn’t happy with how Raevald spoke of his estranged and assumed-dead son. So much so she came back to tell me. It’s not at all lost on me the risk she took in sneaking down here and listening to my conversation with the High Regent. Then again to give me that small message. And one she’s not even convinced of.
But something the High Regent said, or the way he said it, really hit a nerve.
At least we’ve got that in common. I can work with that. If there’s even the tiniest of cracks there, I’ll find it. Gain her confidence. I’ve no choice. But I’ll have to be careful, extremely cautious. Take my time because it’s delicate. She has to trust me.
On some strange level her change in manner reminded me of Nico.
Because in here, surrounded by darkness and unknowns, it always comes back to Nico.
How, when I’d suffered an especially horrible blow at the hands of Arlen or one of the soldiers guarding the Hole, he’d insist not all Dogio are cruel. That not all Dogio and Imperi see Basso as less than.
I’d always shove the sentiment aside, explain that he and only he was different. A complete fluke in the order of things. That I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it myself.
“Damn it,” I whisper, rolling my eyes. I run my thumb over the cold medallion in an arc back and forth, the smoothness comforting.
If Nico were here, he’d say, “Well, Veda? You finally saw it with your own two eyes. Now what are you going to do about it?”
“All right,” I’d say, annoyed he knows me so well but not giving him the satisfaction of hearing me admit it. He’d smile knowingly, flash his dimple, completely sure of how it leaves me defenseless. Then I’d look into his dark eyes. Try my best to be defiant yet fail miserably. All I’d be able to get out is, “I know…” Because I’d still refuse to say he’s right.
Yes, Nico, I know …
Ad astra.
AT SOME POINT the clicking of my own personal Offering medallion lulls me to sleep. I awaken to the scraping of a metal tray on the stone floor—a far cry from the masterpiece I composed with nothing but the side of a coin earlier.
Instantly, my senses alert me. Bread. And not the stale, moldy version I’m normally tossed. This is real bread. Somewhat fresh bread. The kind we always drooled over in the baskets outside the bakery but never could afford.
An untimely snack. I know it’s untimely because it’s been too short a time since my first meal and not long enough after my pail of cold soapy water.
Whoever left it is already gone.
I lift the roll from the tray, hug it between my palms. Just there, on the underside of the crust, it’s warm.
Warmth … something I’ve longed desperately for and forgotten existed. I tear the bread open and am instantly bombarded with steam.
I’m honestly not sure whether to stuff it in my mouth at once, savor each crumb one by one, or smother my face between the two sides and bask in its warm, delicious glory while it lasts.
I allow the briefest of pauses, then take a huge bite.
And another.
As I simultaneously stuff it in my mouth, savor each crumb, and bask in its glory, I bump the tray with my foot. A couple of somethings shuffle; one item rolls across the metal.
Reaching down, I find what can only be a candle and a match.
Could it be? Could the guard have gifted me warm bread and light?
I remove the treasures, then I push the tray back under the door. Leaning down, I peer through the small space and out into the hallway. No one.
I move to the far corner of the cell and light the candle. After being in the dark so long the brightness is temporarily blinding, but once I can mostly see through the blur of my eyes adjusting, I look at the only thing I have: the medallion.
“My Moon.”
It’s different than the ones Poppy and I used to get through the mail slot of our front door. This one is more ornate. The lettering of my name is larger, bolder. I flip it over. Beneath the new and improved sun insignia is another name: By order of High Regent Raevald.
If they’ve gone to such lengths to improve the Offering medallion, what pray tell could they be planning for the ceremony?
I do not intend to find out.
My only hope is that guard.
And she brought me fresh bread and a candle as if she feels some compassion for me. It’s a small gesture, yet so much more than I ever would have imagined.
And I need any and all small gestures.
Even if it’s from an Imperi guard.
Especially if it’s from an Imperi guard.
ONE STEP FORWARD, two steps back.
That’s what it’s like getting to know the enemy. Trying to open up while at the same time staying guarded.
I’ve attempted to humanize myself by sharing things like stories of my childhood, fishing, adding items to my Sun altar. Forget building trust, I’m just trying to be relatable here.
But how can I be relatable to a person who sees me as a monster?
It’s a fine line.
Because opening myself up weakens me.
And this could be a trap.
It could always be a trap.
I stare at the Imperi officer over a single candle, the black damp of my cell closing in on us. It’s the same candle she left with the fresh bread only moments ago. But instead of returning and taking my tray, leaving without a word, this time, she stayed.
“I remember you,” she starts, eyes set on mine. “That day at the Offering when your grandfather was sacrificed. Then again when you were supposed to be executed.” She glances away, like she has memories of that day she’d rather not share. Did someone she loved get hurt in the battle? Possibly at the hands of the Night? That will make this harder for sure. So much must have happened during the invasion, as a result of the explosion. And I don’t doubt Raevald pinned all he could on the Night, whether true or not.
And knowing him … mostly not.
“I do remember you,” she repeats, the four words so potentially loaded with doubt and hate or interest and compassion. Which is it? I could flip a coin, because she’s not giving me any indication.
The soldier has short, near-black hair that curls like two hooks at her jaw. She’s taken off her red Imperi officer’s sash and turned her uniform jacket inside out, I suppose to not be seen? Regardless of the reason, I wouldn’t know she’s the enemy on first glance. The fact she’s wearing all black ironically makes her look more a member of the Night.
But she most definitely is not my ally. And it’s clear she’s not saying any more. Not a shred for me to go on. No, this guard doesn’t plan to open up to me.
I’m going to have to do the exposing.
Move beyond simply being relatable and work toward the building of trust. Dig deeper.
And it won’t be easy.
What was it Dorian said what feels like ages ago? You have to give trust to receive it?
I edge forward a few inches. “My grandfather—my real grandfather”—the flame flickers with my words and we share a glance—“the man who raised me—was everything. My whole world started and ended with him.” Briefly, I consider mentioning Nico, but the knot in my gut tells me it’s too soon for that. I can’t chance his safety by revealing where his loyalties truly lie. “He wasn’t chosen for that Offering in the traditional way, and he certainly did not volunteer.” The candle, the guard’s features, blur under the slick of tears welling in my eyes. I fight to keep them from falling. “My grandfather—Poppy, I called him—was executed as a punishment and warning to me, to anyone else who might question the Imperi. It was a message from Raevald himself.” She looks away, but her dark eyes once again meet mine. “The punishment was for returning from the Night unscathed—I ruined the myth he’d spun about them being evil torturers, placed a tiny crack in his narrative. And the warning was to keep me from doing it again. To halt whatever grand ideas might’ve been playing in my mind about who the Night really are and how Raevald and the Imperi were involved.”
“And did he know?” The guard’s stare is piercing, her hair framing her face like a black hood. “Did the High Regent know you were his granddaughter then?”
“I don’t think so.”
She’s watching me. Observing. Taking in any hints I might be lying because she’s also wary it’s a trap.
We’re not so different, her and I.
How do I get her to see that?
“Wait…,” she says, slowly moving away from me. “How would the High Regent and the Imperi be involved with the Night?” Confusion covers her face, because of course it does. She’s not ready to hear that Raevald’s been framing the Night by ordering his troops to kidnap and execute Basso—much less believe it.
“Just that…” But my mind’s suddenly blank because it is the truth. I’m not sure if it’s the lack of sleep or absence of human interaction, but I blurt it out, desperate for her to help me. To believe I’m not the enemy. “It wasn’t the Night who were taking Basso, but the Imperi commanded by Raevald. All of the stories about the Night are made up. A fear tactic to keep Bellonians loyal to the Imperi.” The minute the last word leaves my lips I regret it. Too much too quick. Damn it, Veda.
She picks up the candle. Stands and backs away.
“I was told you’re cunning. That you’ll lie to get what you want.” Her eyes cascade over to me. “I swore to keep your location secret at all costs. To capture or kill you if you try to escape, because having you dead is better than having you on the loose. Earlier … even though I heard the High Regent’s words … maybe I didn’t hear all of it. Maybe I heard wrong. I don’t know, but I can’t—” Her sentence breaks off as she turns to go. “I can’t do this.”
She leaves and locks the door behind her.
I fall onto my back and stare at the darkness around me.
I feel sorry for myself for a good ten minutes.
Then I sit up. Force my body to stand.
If I can’t count on her and I don’t see the Night storming this place anytime soon, I’m going to have to get out of here myself. I don’t know how or when, but it’s not happening in my current state. I don’t have the strength to make it down the hallway much less across Bellona.
I start slowly by walking the perimeter of my cell. I’m out of breath after a measly five times around the square room.
I lose hope as quickly as I gained it.
Leaning against the cool stone wall, I slide down to the floor. Sit a few minutes. Wallow in the fatigue that’s so quickly taken over my mind and body. The realization that I might not escape this place. The place where my jaw still stings from Arlen’s boot despite the fact that it’s been nearly two weeks.
My nose stings from anger, tears I refuse to allow to surface. I resist the urge to punch the wall because I know it won’t do me any good to set my knuckles stinging too.
Then I get back up. Walk seven laps. This time faster.
AT SOME POINT, as I’m fantasizing about fresh pools of crystal-clear water and being able to drink to my heart’s content, I fall asleep. But I’m awoken with a jolt to the door flying open and clicking shut.
A match strikes.
The same candle that left in the guard’s hand is once again before me, along with the same guard who is clearly distressed; her face red, cheeks streaked with angry tears and dirt.
I sit up, fearing the worst. “What’s wrong?”
My question must surprise her because she does a double take like she’s making sure she busted into the correct cell.
“You need my help getting out of here?” she asks, all business.
Is she kidding? If she is, it’s a very cruel joke.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes” is all I say, but there are about a hundred questions and doubts spinning around my head. Is this a trap? Did Raevald put her up to this? Are they going to let me think I’m getting out and then catch me escaping? Take me right to the Coliseum in a glorious spectacle? Raevald does love a bit of drama.
The guard sits down across from me again, sets her mouth in a soft line, then swallows hard. “My sister was taken by the Night during the battle yesterday.” The officer breaks her tough façade. She squeezes her eyes shut, breathes deep, then opens them again. “I have to find her, bring her home.” Her jaw hardens. “And you’re going to help me.”
“Of course I will. If you can get me out of here I can get you to the Lower and find your sister. I promise.” Her eyes dart to mine at promise. “I’m so sorry this happened.” I hope she senses my genuine concern, how much I truly want to help her and not just because there’s something in it for me. I also hope she can’t hear the quaver of doubt in my voice, how I’m still fearful this could be a trick.
But I’ve got nothing to lose. If I stay, I’ll be executed. If this is a trap, I’ll still be executed, but maybe—maybe—I could actually escape first.
And if she’s being honest? We’ll both be at risk but also both have something to gain.
Again, I hear Nico … Basso … Dogio … We’re no different.
“My name’s Imilia—Imi.” She sticks her hand out to shake.
I take her hand in both of mine, shake it gently. “Nice to meet you, Imi.”
She nods, glances over her shoulder. “I have to go check on a couple of things. Here—” She pulls a small glass bottle from her jacket pocket, tips it my way. “It’s broth, for strength. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
She rushes off.
Locks the door.
But leaves the candle.
HOURS LATER AND under the glow of a fresh candle, Imi tucks her hair behind her ears, and I can see her face better than before. She’s around my age, give or take a year or two. She has thick, dark eyelashes shadowing a kind but intense gaze.
She takes a breath. “I’m just not sure…” She takes a deeper breath. Nods. “I want to trust you.” The urgency in her words, the speed at which she’s speaking makes me both anxious and excited to get going. I can tell she’s ready to break out of this place and find her sister right now but is forcing restraint so we do it right. “We have to trust each other if we’re going to make it out of here alive.”
There will be no room for error.
“How do you imagine we’re going to get out of here, much less make our way to the Lower? I’m wanted, and you’re an Imperi officer. It’s not like we can just stroll out of prison and hop down a den.”
She clears the emotion from her throat. “Right. Well, first off, you’re not in prison; you’re under the Imperi Palace.”
My eyes go wide. “What? Are you joking?”
She shakes her head, expression dead serious. “It’s not great but better than if you were in the prison under the Coliseum. At least we don’t have to worry about finding our way across the Great Sea.”
“That’s true.” At least one of us is seeing the positive. Though she’s yet to mention the surely hundreds of ways we can have our necks sliced open breaking out of Imperi Palace.
“I’ve been thinking”—she lowers her voice to just above a whisper—“staking the palace out with fresh eyes while doing my rounds … I’ve come up with a loose plan.”
“Okay, good.” I’m leaning forward, my hair nearly catching on the flame. If I were sitting in a chair I’d be on the edge of my seat.
Imi catches my eyes. “You’ll play the part of Basso thief, and I’ll be the arresting officer who’s taking you to the real prison.”
“You’ve thought this through. But … Imi, I’m not just any Basso thief.”
“Not at all. Your face is literally plastered all over Bellona right now.”
“Right.” Perfect.
“First and foremost, it’s imperative we find a way to get you out of here undetected. Some sort of a diversion. And not a small one.” I nod. “And we can disguise you. Cut your hair. I’ll sneak in some different clothes.”
“Okay … This is good.” But my mouth is inexplicably dry.
“Once we get you out, we’ll have a window of one hour, give or take, depending on the time of day, before someone notices you’re gone. An additional twenty minutes before they notice I’m gone. And another fifteen until they put two and two together and sound the alarm on the both of us.”
I shake my head because I’m just not sure … There are so many holes … And it’s unbelievably complicated. Also … “Only one hour before someone notices I’m gone? But sometimes I go half a day without you coming by. I’m not checked on that often.”
Imi glances at her hourglass. “You are. Every hour on the hour.” She blows the candle out. Then she rushes to the farthest corner of my cell.
I stare at the space under the door.
That cool gust hits me like it seems to every so often, and, as if by clockwork, Death’s Shadow quietly shuffles past. It almost sounds like someone’s sweeping. It’s gone as fast as it came, ghost it is.
Before the goose bumps running up and down my arms have a chance to disappear, Imi’s back before me, striking a match and lighting the candle. “I don’t think they sensed me.” She eyes the door. “But it’s not me they’re concerned with.”
“They?”
“The dogs. They track your scent. Make sure you’re alive and in your cell.”
“Dogs?”
“Well, evil beasts, more like, but yeah. When I’m not here, they check on you hourly. A handler lets them in through the side door, they sniff, then leave again. If anything is amiss they let out a horrid howl.”
Evil beasts … Death … I wasn’t so far off. And the side door … “Does the side door lead outside?”
She nods, raising her eyebrows as if confirming what I said was exactly what she’s thinking. “It won’t be easy. The palace is surrounded by high fences, guards, the works. But if they’re distracted enough…”
We both pause in momentary thought, because what kind of diversion would be enough to distract the Imperi Palace guards? I could set the cell on fire, but that would do more harm than good and bring the guards straight to us. I could break into the palace, kidnap Raevald, march him to the top of the Crag and make him jump. Satisfying as that would be, it’s impractical and impossible and won’t get me any closer to the Lower.
I stand up.
Start walking laps.
There must be something.