Instead of coming back to face me, Dorian sends Bronwyn with a note. And an extra blueberry muffin as some sort of consolation.
The note reads:
The Settling is tonight at moonrise.
No updates on Veda.
The first to be Settled will be Arlen.
Everyone will attend—even prisoners.
The Sindaco could not be swayed.
I’m sorry. I’ll be by to get you later.
D.
As sunset, or “moonrise,” and the Sindaco’s Settlings grow closer and closer, I pace my cave, waiting for Dorian to show up.
Arlen—you bastard. Why?
But I knew it was only a matter of time before I met a familiar face down here.
Knowing him, he volunteered to get captured. Probably jumped at the chance to be some sort of hero by infiltrating the enemy. Dumbass.
Idiot though he is, I don’t want to see him executed. I can’t possibly allow it. At least not without trying to talk to him. Find out if he’s seen or heard anything of Veda.
“Hey!” I shout toward the cave entrance. There’s always at least one guard there—lest I try to leave. I’m not supposed to pass the stump without permission. I currently stand right on the cusp of the invisible line. “Guard!”
Forget it.
I cross the line, march toward the cave door. “Did you not hear—” And slam flat into Dorian. My injury screams to high heaven, but that doesn’t keep me from pushing the guy away as he does the exact same to me.
“What the hell?” he says. “Where are you going?”
“I called twice for the guard but got impatient. Where’s Arlen?”
Dorian’s brow furrows. “He’s in a cell being uncooperative.”
“To be fair, he doesn’t have much to lose at this point.”
“The Sindaco offered him a deal for information.”
“And?”
“And Arlen spit in the Sindaco’s face.” I raise my eyebrows. “And then I punched him.”
“The Sindaco?” I say drily.
“Arlen.” He doesn’t have to add “smart-ass.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Which is why I’m here.” He starts tying my wrists in their familiar bindings. “We need your help.”
“Oh?”
He eyes me. “It’s for Veda.”
I pause for effect, but he knows he’s got my attention. “Go on.”
“We’d like you to question Arlen. Get any information you’re able. Especially about her. If he cooperates, there’s a chance he could be spared.”
“I’ll do it.”
ON THE WAY down to the prison cells I make a promise to myself: push every single instinct to be decent out. I must lie, cheat, and steal my way to information. I’m going to play the part of prisoner, of loyal Imperi officer and heir to Bellona. He’s got to trust me, relate to me, or he won’t give up a word.
We’re a few paces from the cell door, and Dorian unties my wrists, motions I follow. I take a single step, then stop dead when something occurs to me.
Once Dorian realizes I’m no longer behind him he stops too, turns to face me. “Cold feet?”
“I need you to hit me.”
He shakes his head in confusion. “What?”
“Hit me.” I step forward. “I look too clean, too taken care of, to be a prisoner.”
“I’m not gonna hit you. Mess up your hair, rub some dirt on your face…” He turns and keeps walking and it’s clear, if I want this to be believable, I’m going to have to provoke him. I march double time right up to him, shove him in the back so he stumbles forward, nearly falling face-first onto the stone floor. He stands, squares his shoulders, then strides close so we’re nearly nose to nose.
“Come on!” I shout in his face.
“I’m not hitting you, man.”
“It’s for your own good.”
“What?”
And I punch him square in the jaw.
His eyes flash red and, as expected, as I hoped, he returns the hit. Four knuckles slam into my left cheekbone. I stumble backward as, instantly, it throbs like a special headache concentrated within a three-inch radius of my face. Blood rushes the spot, and I can already imagine the purple bruise blooming under the surface. When I place my hand there, I find the slick warmth of fresh blood.
I stare back at him, his expression part satisfied and, I suspect, part pissed I got him to actually go through with it. “My Sun, was that so damn hard?”
Dorian swears loudly but there’s a satisfied grin on his face. “I suppose we’re both playing the part, eh?”
Without another word, he unlocks the cell door.
THE MINUTE I lay my eyes on Arlen, there’s no doubt Dorian hit him with equal passion. His face is swollen and dried blood stains the underside of his newly crooked nose down to his chin. He’s tied to a metal chair, hands and legs bound. He definitely won’t be spitting in anyone else’s face unless they offer it up before him.
“Five minutes, Denali,” Dorian says before he shoves me in. “I’ll be right outside the door.” He says this to the both of us. Neither I nor Arlen acknowledge it.
Once Dorian’s gone and the door is definitely latched closed, I walk up to my old friend, sit in the empty chair before him. “What happened? How did you end up here?”
He lifts his eyes to meet mine and only stares. He’s wary, thinking, probably playing out his options, by the way he’s tapping his fingers against the rim of his chair. The guy always fidgets when he’s thinking, more so when he’s spinning a good lie. Growing up with him, witnessing him lie at least a hundred different times to get himself out of trouble and consequence, you begin noticing these seemingly small quirks.
Like Veda … When she’s nervous, she works her bottom lip with her teeth. And when she’s angry, it’s infuriatingly endearing how she avoids my eyes. When she wants to kiss me …
“I was going to ask you the same questions.” Arlen breaks into my thoughts like a bad joke.
I motion toward my freshly broken face. “I didn’t have much choice in the matter. At the time, I was passed out from an arrow to the back.” Truth.
He breathes a laugh. “At least you have that. I was caught during a raid. Made a wrong turn and found myself surrounded by Night soldiers.”
“I see you received a similar welcome?” I narrow in on his bloody, askew nose.
Arlen nods. “What do they plan to do with you?”
I shake my head, being fairly honest with my answer. “I don’t know. I think they’re hoping to use me in some way … me being heir to Bellona and all … They’re cooking something up.” It’s not a complete lie.
“They’ll keep you alive long enough to get what they want out of you. It’s why I’m not giving them anything. They’re going to kill me anyway.”
I scoot forward, seizing the moment. “Maybe not, though. They told me…” I glance over my shoulder at the door as if I’m about to reveal some top-secret information. “If I can get you to talk about where Veda is, they’ll consider sparing you.”
The moment I mention Veda his position changes from leaning forward, as if caught up in nostalgia and camaraderie, to pushed back and closed off like several memories came flashing back. Veda’s Offering … The countless moments I spent time with her over him … How I stalled during her execution … It might not have been obvious to most, maybe not even Raevald, but Arlen knows my tells too.
I backtrack. “Don’t let them win, Arlen. It’s not worth it.”
“You don’t think?” I shake my head, knowing full well he’s up to something. “You, heir to Bellona, wouldn’t do the same if in my position: Protect the Imperi’s information at all costs—even your own life.”
“Damn it, Arlen.” I lower my voice. “I’m not going to tell them anything you tell me.” This causes him to think. On what, I’m not sure, but he’s back to fidgeting, softly kicking the leg of the chair with his heel. “I’ll obviously lie. Then we can work to break out of here—we’re no help to one another if one of us is dead.”
He nods, slight humor in his eyes. “True.” Then he lifts an eyebrow. “Too bad I don’t have any information.” He pauses for effect. “It was a good plan, Denali.”
He’s either dead set on being some sort of martyr or really, really doesn’t trust me.
“You must have something.”
“Not anything of significance. And even if I did … even if I made something up to save my own skin, I’d still come out on the other side as a traitor. I’d rather die honorably than live the rest of my days a deserter.” He eyes me in a deliberate and scathing sort of way. “Besides, you seem too eager. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, but hers even longer.” He laughs under his breath. “Leave it to you to fall in love with a traitor.”
“I’m not … I’d never…” But he sees through me. I know he does.
He changes tactics, leaning forward again, so much he scoots his chair closer. “It’s too late anyway, Nico. Raevald’s dead set on killing her. He’ll get his Offering one way or another, and this time you won’t be around to get in the way. This time her blood will spill across that altar.” Then he looks across at me. Shrugs. “Sorry, man.”
I stand. “We’re finished here.”
“Was she worth it?” he shouts.
I knock on the door. “I’m done.”
Keys jingle on the other side as Arlen manages to scrape his chair across the stone floor so he’s sitting right in front of me. And despite how I tower over him, he beats me into the ground with five words. “Veda’s as good as dead.”
The door opens, but Arlen’s still mumbling away about Veda. “As if it would have ever worked out between the two of you!” He glances down at his hands tied in his lap, toys with the fraying rope between his fingers. “Guess now you’ll never know.” The guy leers up at me.
And something about the satisfaction of that evil grin stretched across his face sets me off.
I lunge toward Arlen, ready to kill him myself. I cock my arm back for a good swing when Dorian grabs me around the waist and pulls me out of there.
As we’re walking away, all I can hear is Arlen singsonging the words, “It’s over, Nico … Any day now … You know it’s true … It’s over…”
I’VE NEVER SEEN anything like it, and I hope not to witness it again.
Unfortunately, the ceremony hasn’t even begun.
The whole of the Night stand four or five bodies deep in an arc—a crescent moon. Forced to watch, I sit to the side, my hands and ankles bound with rope. Dorian and the other Night higher-ups are perched on a platform above me and to my right.
There’s an hourglass slung on a hook before the platform. It’s been turned twice now and is shifting toward its third rotation as we wait for the clouds to clear. For the ceremony to begin. For the moon to shine down.
To my left is the Great Sea. When I look out over the water, it’s dark but the endless blue knows no bounds and reflects the twinkle of stars between the blur of clouds.
This is the section of beach the Night has claimed. Their first stronghold of Bellonian land and the only time in centuries, first war aside, the Night’s been openly aboveground.
Under the shadow of the Crag, shoved into the rocky sand and marking their territory, is a black flag. Upon it, a silver crescent moon. The fabric whips and snaps with the cold, unforgiving saltwater gusts coming off the Great Sea.
And their first act on this newly won colony of theirs?
A double execution.
In the center of the crescent, a short distance from me, is Arlen. His hands are tied behind his back. Ankles bound. He’s kneeling before his maker’s enemy, frozen like a statue—a sacrifice—beneath the moon.
Another soldier, one I recognize but can’t place, rests quietly on his knees beside Arlen. His eyes are set on the sky as if he’s searching for the Sun, deep in prayer. They’ll both be Settled tonight. But it’s Arlen who’s not going to go quietly.
He glares toward the Sindaco and then at the moon. “Curse you straight to hell!” he swears at the Night’s god.
The crowd cringes as a whole.
“Blasphemy!” someone gasps.
Arlen leans forward and despite how his hands are tied with a figure-eight of rope, he grabs two handfuls of sand and throws it toward the mumbling, scrutinizing crowd. It only makes it as far as the flames burning in front of him. They hiss and spit at the assault.
The fire’s hot, blazing like midday from a pit in the sand.
My eyes find the Sindaco. Veda’s father. Raevald’s son. His expression is unreadable. Calm. Collected. Completely at peace with the decision he’s made. It’s not a big shock I can’t read him. Raised by the High Regent, I suppose the guy’s learned from the best.
Dorian flanks the Sindaco on the left. I try to decipher his thoughts from his cold demeanor. The way his mouth is pressed into a hard line. How he sits tall next to the man in charge. I try to get his attention. Clear my throat. Forcefully side-eye him. If he notices, he doesn’t lead on.
It’s then I sense someone’s eyes on me.
When I focus back on Arlen, he’s staring straight at me, pure hatred in his glare as if it’s my fault he sits where he does.
It isn’t my fault, of course, but the fire is suddenly uncomfortably hot and my bindings cut into my wrists and sweat beads between my shoulder blades, my wound giving a harsh pang.
Opening and closing my hands into fists, each movement makes the ropes burn deeper. I welcome the pain. Anything to distract my senses from this moment. From witnessing my former friend’s execution.
Arlen continues his assault by fighting his own bindings, thrashing his shoulders back and forth, and kicking up sand, sending granules flying into the fire. He curses those around him, both the Sun and moon, then zeroes in on me once again.
“I’m here because of you, you know,” he shouts at me and me alone. As if we’re the only two people on this beach and I’m the one who’s tied him there. I who will push the blade through his chest. I who am drawing it all out by keeping the moon hidden behind heavy cloud cover.
I shake my head no, avert my eyes, because he’s full of shit. Always has been.
“I volunteered to rescue you.” This catches my attention. “Nico! Look at me!” And I do. Despite every instinct in my body, I lock eyes with him. “The High Regent needs his heir. Bellona deserves its heir!”
Now he’s just talking nonsense. It would take a careless, presumptuous idiot to think he could come down here and rescue me then live to tell the tale and enjoy the spoils.
An idiot.
Outnumbered by the hundreds. Unknowing of the surroundings. A death wish.
But …
Arlen’s certainly never been known for his levelheadedness or humble demeanor.
What if there is truth to what Arlen’s saying? Is he here because of me? Not the way he’s saying—if he volunteered to rescue me, I guarantee it was for his own gain and had zero to do with my well-being. But what if I’d listened to Veda sooner? And what if I’d been able to warn Arlen of the Imperi’s lies and deceptions? Would things be different?
“It should have been me,” he keeps talking, still staring at me. “I should have been named heir.” He releases a laugh. “You don’t deserve such honor.” He smiles. “She always had you wrapped around her finger. And. Now. She’s. Going. To. Die.” I force my eyes to look away. “Guess how, Nico? Do you want to know who will cut her neck? If she’ll suffer or beg to be spared?” My sight deceives me by making eye contact. Sweat-soaked hair hangs over his face, but he jerks his head to the side so he’s got a clear view of me. “If she’ll spill all of her secrets in a final plea for her life?”
I look up toward the sky.
My chest burns with anger, and my fists ache to finish what I started earlier.
The clouds have cleared.
A full moon—silvery, round as a marble, and bright as a pearl—stares down. But just to the right, something steals its thunder. A star I’ve never noticed before. It nearly outshines the moon on its own, and I decide it’s Veda. Winking down at me. Letting me know it’s going to be all right.
Ad astra …
I see you.
The ceremony begins.
Dorian just pours something into each of their chalices, handing over the Sindaco’s last.
The Sindaco stands and speaks, his voice drowned out by the angry waves rolling in beside us. I don’t need to hear what he has to say. I can guess it’s pretty similar to the Imperi’s Offerings … This sacrifice will appease our god … Help us win the war … “A Settling,” I do make out between the crashing of water. “With this sacrifice, we begin to Settle what’s been taken from us.”
A member of the Night cloaked in black, face hidden save their eyes, walks toward Arlen. A sword swings stiffly at their side.
The Sindaco raises his glass. “Blessed be the Night.” I recognize the slightly changed greeting as those around me repeat it in unison.
The sword is unsheathed.
Held toward the moon so it flashes and reflects the silvery light.
The executioner plants his feet before Arlen.
The sharp metal tip of the blade pricks his bare chest.
Draws blood.
Arlen leans forward, shoving his skin into the blade and crying out in pain. But just when it seems he might do the job himself, the sword is jerked away. The executioner lifts it over their head. Their hands are strong, their grip unwavering.
I have to look away.
I cannot watch this.
I won’t witness this.
“Do it!” someone shouts.
I gaze up at the charcoal sky, find that star, and refuse to take my eyes off her.
Everything goes silent.
Only the sea breathes.
Finally, one horrid cry rings out into the night. Arlen.
And another. The other soldier.
Then, “Sindaco!” cuts through the ceremony.
Everything stops.
I tear my eyes from the star to find the entire crowd is gathered around the Sindaco, who’s fallen to the ground, slumped over onto himself.
Thinking quick and also not thinking at all, my one and only goal getting to Veda, I scramble forward and shove my wrists into the fire. Everything singes and burns and tears straight to heaven and hell and then back again, but not before the rope catches and weakens so I can break free of the binds. Then I crawl to the side. Untie my legs.
And I run.
I DON’T DARE take the time to look back.
I run up the beach.
Under the shadow of the Crag and past the base of the volcano.
If I can only make it into Imperi territory … I’m the heir of Bellona, for Sun’s sake. If I’m able to escape, to return from the Night, I’ll be a hero. A miracle handed down by the Sun himself … a …
I’m tackled to the ground, the wind knocked out of me.
Sand’s sprayed up into my eyes, shoved down my throat, as I thrash and kick and punch and several someones successfully take me down.
And just as quickly as I tasted freedom, it’s over.
I’m tied back up.
Dragged to the beach.
The Sindaco’s no longer lying on the ground but has vanished altogether. Dorian, the other higher-ups, are also nowhere to be seen.
Those left standing in the circle around the bonfire shout at me. A mix of coward! and liar! and Imperi scum! A few actually accuse me of hurting the Sindaco and suggest I’m next to be Settled.
From there, I’m roughly shoved and pushed back toward the den that goes directly under the Crag.
Then down to the Lower and to my cave.
“You lucked out, Heir.” The guard says it like a repulsive disease. A crude swear. I suppose here it is. Down here, among the Night, Veda’s the true heir of Bellona. I can’t say I disagree. By blood, she’s heir. Though I know Raevald would have a lot to say about that. Over his dead body. That’s what he’d say. The Night soldier kicks me behind the knees so I stumble into my cave. “For whatever reason, the Sindaco wants you alive and well. For now.”
“Lucky me.” I spit the words up at him.
The guy—I’ve seen him before—tallish, strongish, a slew of ribbons adorning his uniform jacket, chuckles down at where I sit on the stone floor. “You better count your lucky stars and pray to your god tonight—that could have easily been you up there.” He makes sure my bindings are tight, that I’m tethered to a metal hook in the wall. “Dorian’ll be by. Eventually.” And he marches out without a glance or second thought.
I lean my head back against the cold stone wall. Try to wipe the sound of Arlen being stabbed out of my head. That cry. It wasn’t one of the enemy or a monster. It was that of a man dying. Taking his final, painful breath.
Dorian’s wrong. What the Sindaco’s doing, it’s exactly like the Offerings.
My eyes strain through the sting of tears as I make a promise to myself, to Veda, here and now: I will get to you.
I might have been trying to escape up there, but there was something more to my plan.
If I can return as heir, escape the Night a hero, resume my post, repent to the High Regent, and accept my position, I’ll have power.
I’ll find her.
Return her here safely.
Then?
My heart drops.
We still won’t be together, but I can work from the inside … Seek out information … Infiltrate Raevald’s plans … Sabotage …
Sucking in a deep breath, my head pulls away from the damp cave wall.
I count five, six, seven mud beetles scurrying across the floor.
Stupid things. If Veda were here she’d scold me for not catching them. “They’re like gold!” she’d say.
But that was before.