I made Dorian swear on his favorite glassblowing torch that he’d stay at his uncle’s until I got back. No matter what.
He refused “no matter what,” but we compromised with “if I’m not back in three hours, you can come find me.”
I imagine he’s pacing a track into the stone floor of his uncle’s basement. I’d told him to make something out of glass to keep busy. He completely missed the humor I was aiming for, but I heard him gathering his tools as I left so he must not have been too offended.
The Sun is high in the sky and people are out and about, living their lives. Through the thick foliage, I spot a group of Imperi soldiers harass Basso in between tacking up BEWARE THE NIGHT signs. Down the way, a woman pushes a rickety cart of eggs past a group of children sitting by a pile of rocks seeing who can stack the highest tower.
There are eyes everywhere. This couldn’t be riskier unless I’d strolled through the market and then shown up at Nico’s house, knocked on his front door. Yet here I am. Sneaking through the woods of Bellona in all black like a wolf stalking prey, shadow to shadow, tree to tree. Fortunately, most Bellonians are at the market, at work, or tending their homes. There’s not much in these woods for anyone to be concerned with, especially in winter.
Dorian explained the best spot to duck into the tunnel from the woods was the same place we used the night we came back after the flood and I saw that posting with the High Regent on it.
When I reach the spot, just a few steps from the tunnel entrance, again I’m greeted by the poster of Raevald’s face, this time in daylight. I wish I’d taken it down last time … Stuffed it in my pocket and used it as a target during training.
THE IMPERI NEEDS YOU! it says. I stifle a sarcastic laugh. I wonder how many Basso they’ve recruited into the army. What they’re offering. I suppose it wouldn’t take much. Basic living needs. Food. Bait for their families. Opportunity to find lost loved ones “taken by the Night” would be more than motivation enough.
Gripping my blade, I glance left then right. A couple of Dogio women walk past. I duck behind a tree and listen as they enter the tunnel. I’ll have to wait awhile before I can go in and hope no one else does. My plan is to stand near the entrance and get a glimpse of Nico (or anyone else) before he enters. I’d spot his silhouette anywhere. If it’s not him, I’ll speed walk through and duck into one of the tight spaces where there’s a drainage grate, wait until they pass. It’s the best I’ve got.
I’m about to bound forward when I hear more footsteps crunching over gravelly snow. Pulling my black hood tightly over my head, I inch around the tree to get a peek.
Thank the Sun.
Nico.
He enters.
I look left, right, don’t see anyone, and run into the tunnel.
I have no idea how I’m going to get his attention. I’d planned to say his name, certain he’d recognize my voice, but I’m suddenly unsure. It’s been a while. What if he doesn’t? What if he’s not certain and ignores me? I consider whistling, but it could be anyone.
Then, thank the Sun, I know exactly what to do. I simply say, “Ad astra.”
His boots skid to a stop. “Veda?” He says my name so lightly, like he’s just heard a ghost.
“It’s me.”
Nico turns around, lantern held before him. He runs straight for me. For a split second I’m on guard—he’s in his Imperi uniform and I’m breaking about five different laws, but he throws himself into me, wrapping me up into a tight, lingering hug.
And I’m home.
“Veda,” he hiccups. “You scared the shit out of me.”
We both laugh, but he’s crying and then I’m crying and he holds me and kisses the top of my head and I kiss the tears from his cheeks and it goes on like that for some time as if we’re lovers reunited after war. And maybe we are.
I wasn’t expecting this. The emotion. Especially after spending so much time with Dorian. This is supposed to be simple. But I quickly realize it’s going to be anything but.
Then it’s like we suddenly catch each other.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
While at the same time I say, “I have to see you.”
“I’m right here.”
“No. Later. Alone. Someplace safe.”
“The pond behind my house.”
“Perfect.”
“But, Veda.” He says my name like a secret as he searches my face over his lantern, concern lining the corners of his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”
“I know. I’m only here through tonight. To see you. I just need to speak with you.”
“It’s important?”
“Very.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Again, we embrace, my face is in his chest, and he’s all Nico, spearmint and sandalwood and the crisp of winter. “The pond, after vesper bells. I’ll have about an hour free.”
“I’ll be there.”
That’s when we notice someone else is heading from the other direction. Two lanterns bob like floating leaves atop the canal, rushing toward us.
“Go,” Nico hisses and turns in one motion, walking straight for them.
I take off, but am sure to stay light as I can on my feet. As I make my way to the exit, I catch parts of their conversation … “Just a Basso girl…,” Nico says. “Questioning her about fish…”
“Always taking what isn’t theirs,” another says.
They must be Imperi soldiers or officers.
I know he’s thinking on his toes, throwing them off my scent.
Still looking out for me.
Still Nico.
“HE CAN’T SEE YOU.”
“Right.”
“Can’t even sense you’re near. Understand?” I whisper.
“You’ve got it, V. I’m invisible,” Dorian says to my back.
I turn my head around, narrowing my eyes. “Promise?”
He throws his hands in front of him, waves them about. “I’m a ghost.”
I don’t know why, but I have this horrible feeling Dorian’s going to have a hard time staying still.
I want to smile but I don’t have time for his antics and my nerves won’t allow it anyway.
From Dorian’s uncle’s home, we had to get creative to avoid soldiers and fences, especially after the mess that was last night. Darting in and out of a couple of dens zigzagging through a tunnel, we manage it without much issue.
Now, only yards away, there’s a bend in the canal and it’s as good a place as any for Dorian to stand guard. I look at my hourglass almost the exact moment vesper bells ring.
“You stay here,” I say, the words barely making sounds. “I’ll be right over there.” I point to my and Nico’s spot.
He nods, crouching onto one knee next to a tree.
I walk on, taking in deep breaths as I do, the stale yet slight fish smell of the canal coupled with the woodsy tree scents tingling my nose. Taking a moment to peer at the darkening night sky, I see the crescent moon winking down on me as if for good luck. It’s silver, shimmering against the cloudless, indigo backdrop, as the creases of Poppy’s letter—slightly worse for wear after getting wet last night—push into my chest.
I check to be sure my necklace is around my neck, a reminder of our friendship, of the Nico that was. That, deep down, he’s still himself just like I’m still myself. I have got to remember this.
My stomach pitches with heat and nausea.
I turn the corner.
Nico.
It’s dark, though the tall lamps from the gates up above provide a gentle sheen of light.
He stands beneath the umbrella of trees, nervous, fidgety, tapping his fingers against his leg as I approach.
“You came,” I say.
“Of course, I came.” Nico looks into my eyes. “Veda…” My heart skips at hearing him say my name. He walks toward me and takes my hands in his. “I knew I missed you, but my Sun, seeing you earlier, out of the blue like that, I had no idea just how much.”
“Me too.” I’ve tried, Sun have I tried, but it’s been impossible to erase the kiss we shared, our history, so many moments, from my memories. And seeing him now, looking into his eyes, mirroring his dimpled smile because it’s still just as infectious … I’m swimming in all things Nico, and oh how I’ve missed him.
“Should we sit?” Nico glances at the bench beneath the trellis and I nod.
I sit down first, the stone hard and cold, seeping through to the backs of my legs. He takes the place next to me. Nico’s uniform is pristine, freshly pressed, his Imperi emblem shinier than ever, and his red officer’s sash has new patches and pins adorning it. Nico glances down at the sash. “I know it’s strange.”
I shrug. “A little.” A lot.
Then I look down at my own clothes, all black, the new silver crescent moon pinned to my collar. I pull my hood off my head. “Me too?”
He smiles gently. “A little.” Probably a lot for him too.
If I focus on his face, blur out the Imperi uniform, he’s still my Nico, dark curly mane, deep dimple perfectly carved into his cheek. So gentle. So kind.
He leans in. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I take his hand in mine. “I know, and that’s why I have to make this quick.” Worry lines crease Nico’s brow. The needle and vial sit heavy in my pocket. If things go wrong, how will I ever be able to go through with this?
“I need your help. More than ever.”
His expression turns from curious to concerned, that dimple disappearing. “My help? How?”
This is my chance. Right now. He’s given me the perfect opening, but I’ve got to go about this delicately. I can’t afford to upset him or scare him off, but I also don’t want to be too vague or he won’t sense the urgency.
I take a deep breath. “Nico, do you know why I joined the Night?” He looks down at me, dark eyes softening. “Poppy.” My voice hitches around his name. “How could I ever live in this place after that? After what happened? That wasn’t an Offering, it was a murder. I know it. Poppy knew. And I think you know too.”
Nico clasps his fingers in mine, pulls my hand to his chest over his heart. “I understand. I’d probably have done the same. What happened to Poppy…” Nico shakes his head, anger lacing his expression. “It wasn’t right. That Offering felt different. I can’t place it, but—”
“It was different.” I see an opportunity and take it. “Deep down I think you might know what was different.”
His eyes flash to mine. “Raevald?”
“Raevald,” I repeat. “I’m not so sure Poppy’s name was randomly plucked from a list as much as it was deliberately chosen.” I lean my forehead to his. He half nods. “Nico … what if you came back with me?”
His brow farther knits and he shakes his head. “I could never, Veda. I can’t see how that would solve anything.” Yes, yes, but I’ve got to convince him otherwise. Now. Before it’s too late.
My nose grazes his as I try to form what might possibly be the most important words I say tonight. “Having you on our side”—I stare straight into his eyes and he gazes back—“on my side, will spark revolution. Instead of more fighting, more death, together, maybe, we could change everything.”
He pulls back. “War? Who said anything about war?”
I bite my lip worried I might have said too much. But, no. If he’s going to end up on our side whether by choice or force, he deserves to know what’s happening. “Yes, war. It’s probably inevitable at this point, but if you join the Night—if the heir of Bellona joins the Night—others will follow. Dogio and Basso alike. Maybe some Imperi will even flip. Before we know it, Raevald will see he’s fighting a losing battle. If he doesn’t have the support of his people, he can’t win.”
“I think you might be overestimating my influence.”
“Am I though?”
Nico falls silent for a moment, his gazing turning to the pond. “You understand how much that would cost me. My family. My standing. My inheritance.” He looks back at me. “Possibly my life.”
“I know. Trust me, I know.” His eyes dart to mine. “But you have to understand where I’m coming from.”
He turns to face me and I face him, pull my legs up and cross them in front of me on the bench, rest my elbows on my knees.
“I know you better than I know anyone,” he says.
“Do you though?” He nods, but I can tell he’s lost some of his confidence. “Knowing someone and understanding them are two very different things. I’m Veda Adeline. I’m Basso, was raised by my grandfather. I like to fish and I have an ugly scar from a pantera bite on my chest.” He nods. “None of that is news to you.”
“No.”
“Now. Try to understand me. I’m still Veda Adeline. Still Basso. I’ve always been told my parents were taken and murdered by the Night. This was a lie. I know for a fact my mother was killed by the Imperi as a traitor.” For a split second I consider telling him about the Sindaco, but quickly decide it’s not the time. Not the place. “For the majority of my life, Poppy and I sustained our hunger on dried seaweed and salted fish, onion stew. When it was really bad—if I couldn’t fish or Poppy was ill and didn’t work—we actually ate our bait.” Nico’s face falls. “Worms. Poppy’d boil them in onions and water. He’d joke it was an improvement to the usually bland onion stew.” I pause to smile. “Those onions—cheap, available, and the onion farmer always needed bait, so trading was successful. Poppy could eat one whole and raw like an apple.” I shake my head. “When you’re hungry enough, you do what you must.”
“Veda, I—”
But I know what he’s going to say. “When you’re hungry and poor, the last thing you feel comfortable doing is asking for help. I know you’d have helped us and I know you did.” He glances away. “It was you, wasn’t it? A bag of potatoes left on our doorstep? A pound of rice mysteriously shows up on our back porch? New fishing hooks?”
He gives a sheepish smile. “I knew you’d never take them if I offered. I used to sneak and buy bait from Poppy when you weren’t working, but my father forced me to stop when he caught me giving it away to Basso. Said I’d throw the balance of things off. That people should work for what they have, not be given it.” He grits his teeth. “I argued how much easier it was for us to say that when we’re surrounded by everything we could possibly need. He took the rest of the jars of worms and threw them into the canal.” Jaw flexed, he glances down at his uniform. “I can’t pretend I’ll ever understand your life, Veda, but I know I care for you more than I’ve ever cared for anyone. I know that love means sacrifice, and I know that I can do more good from inside the Imperi, one day, Sun willing, as High Regent, than I can from underground. Maybe I can change the rules … The system … Get people to understand more fully … Maybe.”
“Maybe. Years, decades, from now. I can have hope in that. But for now? In this moment? The foreseeable future? I’m afraid the system is too broken to change.”
“I have to try.” I can’t argue that. It’s the same thing I’m doing this very minute. And I can’t give up either.
“Think of all we could change if working together? Instead of being up against everyone—the entire Imperi—you’d be surrounded by people who want the change you seek—we seek. The Night believe in it so much they’re willing to die for it.”
“So am I. But from a different vantage point is all. Think of what we could do coming at it from both sides.”
Nico’s wrong. I don’t want him to be wrong, but he is. There’s no changing the Imperi. No reasoning with Raevald. He’s too blinded by his pursuit for power and revenge. “I know you believe that, but I just can’t. There’s no time to change the system, Nico, it must be taken out. Overthrown.”
We mutually pause, take a breath. Going back and forth the way we have, it’s like we’re circling the same planet but from slightly different axes. So excruciatingly close to coming together but missing by a hair each time we pass.
“When?” he finally says, and for the first time I’m concerned I might have given him too much information. Because what if? Nico is technically the enemy after all. I’d never in a hundred years think of him as that, but … what if?
“I don’t know,” I say quickly, but it’s the truth. I have no idea.
“Soon?”
“Possibly.”
“Veda…” Nico squares his shoulders so he’s sitting straighter, no longer leaning in toward me. But it’s not his sudden distance that strikes me, it’s his eyes. His lack of a dimple. He sees what I’m doing, that I don’t fully trust him for the first time in forever.
And he’s right.
My Sun, he’s right.
And I’ve got to do the only thing I can to get him down to the Lower. Not only for the cause but for his own safety. If he stays, especially as an Imperi officer, soon to be directly under Raevald’s thumb, what if the truth comes out about who I am—it’s no secret we’re close friends. We’ve not shied away from pushing the bounds of our society in the past. He could be labeled a traitor, sympathizer to the Night, untrustworthy—he could lose everything anyway.
If I could quickly and fully convince him of that right now I would. But I can’t. It’s clear he’s not coming with me. Not tonight and certainly not willingly.
With a deep breath, I steel myself. I become Lunalette, the one who’s foretold to set the revolution into motion, bring the Night to victory. The one like my mother, fighter and spy. Perhaps this is how I become her. Perhaps this is my first act. And act I must.
“Nico…” I speak softly and scoot closer, bridging the space he created between us. “If I knew when, I’d tell you.” Only if you joined the Night. “Truth is, I have no idea. We’re not near as organized as the Imperi, not close to as battle ready.” It’s not a huge secret. “I’m so sorry…” I am. I inch even closer, take his hand, my other already in my pocket, gripping that cold glass vial. “I’m pushing you too hard.” I place my forehead to his.
Our noses grazing, he says, “It’s all right.” I pull my right hand out of my pocket, glass vial tucked against my palm, needle sticking out between my middle and forefingers, the cap still on, but easily popped off with the slip of my thumb.
He wraps his arms around my waist. “I believe in us,” he whispers, and he’s so close his words wash over my lips. “We can both do good. Apart, yes, but also together.” He places his hand just above my heart, runs his thumb in an arc. “Ad astra.” Nico places a barely there kiss to my lips. Again, “Ad astra. I believe in us.” A couple of layers below where his thumb makes a constant arc, back and forth, my scar tingles.
But my act, my mission is compromised the moment Nico pulls me in, wraps his arms around me, and kisses me like it’s our first and last kiss ever. His lips are warm, soft, laced of spearmint. When I wrap my arms around his neck, Nico clutches the back of my jacket, pulling me even closer.
“Veda…,” he whispers against my lips as I run my fingers up the back of his neck, into his hair, kissing him more deeply, my head completely spinning. Everything around us a blur.
I’m caught off guard by how much I don’t resist. By how quickly I pull away from my mission and this is bigger than me and Lunalette, all for the boy before me and ad astra.
Truth is, I can’t simply throw my cares away to the stars. Not this time. For once with Nico, it’s not so simple.
Neither is drugging him to convince him to join my side of this revolution. It’ll never work. He’d never trust me again, much less come around to our side.
What was I thinking?
As if waking up from a trance, I abruptly pull away, hide the syringe up my sleeve. I plan to shove it back in my pocket. But as I do, my fingers get tangled in Nico’s jacket and I drop the vial. It clanks against a clump of stones on the ground and shatters.
Nico jumps and pushes me away. He stands up. Glancing all around, he sees the broken syringe and looks back and forth between it and me.
He’s frozen, staring straight at me, betrayal and anger and hurt written in the way he shakes his head. How he doesn’t say a word. So quiet. Too quiet.
“Nico…,” I say, slowly getting up from the bench, “it’s harmless. Only meant to … I mean, I wasn’t going to—”
“Stop. I don’t want to know. I can’t know.” He glances back at the shards of glass, the liquid spilling, slicking the rocks beneath it. “You shouldn’t be here.” He peers up toward his house. “It’s not safe.” He gazes across what feels like endless space between us. “For either of us.”
I nod. My hands are shaking and I force them to my sides. Caught between the shame that I nearly attempted it and the disappointment that I couldn’t find some other way to convince him to come with me, pain pricks behind my eyes.
And the pain, the burn of fresh tears trying to surface, isn’t so much about the failed mission. It’s Nico. Behind his anger, his betrayal, I see the same pain that’s about to double me over. Together, we’re coming to the same realization. Peeling back something I think we’ve always known but refused to admit. And the truth of it, the hurt below the truth, is enough to split me in two.
Because despite our differences, despite that we had the world stacked against us, I always hoped, believed, something would magically change. That it would somehow, eventually work out for Nico and me. That the stars would align and the seas would calm and we’d be there to see it all. Together.
I now understand that’ll never be.
And that’s what I can explain to the Sindaco when I go back. Nico and I aren’t like him and my mother, because they were on the same side. We’re not.
“I’ll go,” I barely manage.
“Good.” He backs away.
But wait! I want to shout. Please! Come with me! Trust me!
He tightens his jaw, shakes his head, and takes another step back. “It’ll be better this way. We can’t—”
But I don’t get to hear what “we can’t” do or be.
Dorian bounds out from around the corner, a single sharp needle in his hand.
Nico makes to pull his sword from its hilt, but before he can, I throw every last ounce of strength I have into my legs and slam my body into his, sending him tripping over his own feet and into the pond. Dorian halts, steps toward the water after Nico, but stops short when a soldier, shining a light through the thick trees in our direction, shouts from the top of the hill. “Denali! That you?”
I jerk the needle from Dorian’s hand and throw it against the rocks so it shatters next to what’s left of the first syringe. We run for it.
Two vials of moonroot wasted.
Without Nico.
Both of us seething with anger, out of breath and in a cold sweat from sprinting through the snowy forest to get away.
But we do get away.
We run straight for the same den we came through yesterday. The soldiers continue sounding the warning, but their whistles grow fainter the farther away we get and I wonder if Nico somehow stalled them. Would he even?
I’d do it for him.
Of course, maybe not if he’d just tried to sedate me. My stomach sinks even lower.
Dorian doesn’t say a word. I stay a good couple of feet behind him, pretending to enjoy the silence.
In fact, he ignores me our entire journey and I ignore him right back. But beneath the blaring silence, my mind’s roiling with all the things I’d like to say to him.
Did you think I’d fail? Is that why you brought your own needle?
Back through the forest, shadow to shadow, tree to tree—not a single word spoken.
Or were you jealous of the kiss Nico and I shared? Is that why you came running out when you did?
Around the electric fence, we pass THE MOON WILL RISE AGAIN posting—not a glance is shared. Remember that? Remember when we were on the same team? When you trusted me to make the right call? Or was that only then, when tacking papers up on fences was the task?
If he’s anxious or afraid during our descent back down the ladder, he doesn’t show it.
I’m forbidden to fight. Not trusted with missions. Do I have no say in any of this?
Dorian and I return to the Lower as we’d planned had our mission been a success.
And with each section of earth we pass below, each layer we descend, I grow angrier. At myself. At Dorian. At the situation and the Sindaco, the Imperi and Nico. I curse the Sun and moon, both.
Because the mission was a fantastic disaster.
But it was my mission.
I failed.
But I’m not about to admit it to Dorian. I don’t have to.
“Are we going to talk about what happened back there?” We’re heading toward the map room, and Dorian says his first words since we left Nico.
Anger wells up as heat from my chest. “What?” I say through a clenched jaw. “I’ve been waiting for the same from you.”
He stops dead. “You completely botched the mission.”
Heart pounding, breath heaving, I squeeze my hands into fists so tightly, my nails dig into my palms.
“You had him, Veda. You had him.”
“And you … The Sindaco…” I nudge my head just ahead, toward the map room. But when I open my mouth to continue, to really let him have it, I’m suddenly without the words. Without an excuse.
There isn’t one.
“I did what I had to do.” His words stream out through gritted teeth and they burn. I wonder if I accidentally show my disappointment on my face when he looks away, allows his shoulders to soften.
Because I did fail. Regardless of it being wrong in the first place, I agreed to it. I justified it. And I botched it.
But he’s not blameless either. Had he not tried to “fix my mistake,” who knows? I might have been able to convince Nico. Maybe.
Instead, I shove past Dorian. I won’t allow him the first word on this with the Sindaco. Marching past, I walk through the map room door and straight up to the rickety waist-high table the Sindaco stands behind. I slam my hands against the wood and the whole thing wobbles, several maps falling off the side. He doesn’t flinch.
Forcing my voice steady, I simply state, “The mission failed.”
He glances across at me. “I see.” If he’s upset, he doesn’t show it. “And was Dorian able to—”
“No.” I cross my arms. Yeah, I know you sent him with his own needle. You didn’t trust me. You assumed I’d fail.
Suddenly, Dorian is at my side. “I apologize, sir.”
“For the failed mission or…?” He glances toward me.
“All of it. I should have acted sooner. As the highest ranking on this mission, I take full blame.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say. “I take responsibility for the failed mission. I made the call. I know Nico.” I pause, carefully considering my next words. “It wasn’t right to force him here. That’s not the way.”
“Veda … This is why I wasn’t sure … Why you shouldn’t fight. Why as Lunalette—”
“Don’t do that. Don’t say I’m better off being a symbol. If Dorian hadn’t jumped out of the bushes with a needle, maybe I could have convinced Nico.”
“There’s no way—” Dorian cuts in.
“Maybe not. But you didn’t help. Not at all.”
The Sindaco sighs. “It was too much to put on you. I see that now. You’re not trained for missions. It won’t happen again.”
No. “What?” I say the word through a clenched jaw. Taking a step back, I shake my head in disbelief, but not completely surprised either. “I’m being punished. For choosing what was right. For making the call on my own mission.”
The Sindaco scrubs his face with his hands. “This is what you don’t understand.” He looks me in the eyes. “Sometimes battle, war, isn’t about what’s right, but what’s best for those you’re fighting for.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then I realize there’s truth to what he’s saying. My mother recognized this. It also got her killed.
The Sindaco continues, “Dorian having his own vial wasn’t meant to be a slight at you, nor did I doubt you. It was simply a backup plan. Extra assurance. When setting out on a mission like this, you just never know.” He pauses. “Most important, you’re both safe and we now know that at some point, Mr. Denali could be an ally to us.”
Not after we attack Bellona and unravel his entire world.
“And, as you found out, sometimes your only hope is to act on instinct.” He gazes across the table at me, points to a single word in the margin of a page surrounded by countless maps that says Lunalette. “I trust your instincts. Just not in battle.”
That last part stings.
Mostly because I’m terrified he’s right.
ONCE OUTSIDE THE MAP ROOM, I’m not sure what to do with myself. I need some time alone. Something to take my mind off everything. Normally I’d fish. Walk the beach with Nico. Sort worms into jars. A few days ago I’d have asked Dorian if he wanted to do some weapons training.
But I can’t take one look at my atlatl much less Dorian right now.
So I do the only thing I can when stuck Sun knows how far underground.
I wander.
Without a plan or a map, I traverse the tunnels and caves aimlessly, working to gather my thoughts.
I know my way around well enough now that I’m confident I won’t get stuck or completely lost. I plan to get a little lost, but not so much they’ll send a search party or I’ll waste away into dust.
I move at a steady pace, up rocky stairs, down a metal shoot, past a door I know leads to one of the dens. The one Dorian and I used when we came back here after Poppy’s Offering.
I pass by the door labeled GARDENS, and soon find myself in a familiar series of tunnels branching off other tunnels. The labyrinth. And soon, the once-mystery door to the memorial cave.
A dead end.
I hear Dorian approaching.
I assume the Sindaco told him to check on me. Be sure I didn’t do anything reckless like try to leave.
If I had a key, I’d lock myself in just to get away from him. I glance over my shoulder and make eye contact so he knows I see him.
“Veda,” he calls after me. “It’s locked.”
Of course it is. I turn to face him, lean my back against the door, and then slide down it so I’m seated. Dorian approaches and sits next to me.
Searching the ground for something to pick at, I’m pleased to find a scattering of gravel on the cave floor. I pick up a handful of pebbles and then drop them. Over and over.
Out of nowhere, Dorian blurts, “Pebble for your thoughts?” He holds a small rock atop his palm.
I look over at him, scrutinizing his face, unsure whether to laugh or slap the stone out of his hand. “You’ve literally been with me for two days. Do you really not know what I’m thinking?” I say.
He raises his eyebrows. “I assume you’re angry with me?”
“A bit.”
“It’s fair. Warranted. I shouldn’t have overruled you, and I got a mouthful from the Sindaco about it if that makes you feel any better.”
“It does.”
Dorian laughs under his breath. “Good.” He glances over at me. Narrows his eyes. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”
I only meet his stare.
“Is it Nico?”
I shrug, my insides cramping with guilt and disappointment. I couldn’t begin to delve into all of that right now. Still, I answer honestly. “Nico’s on my mind, yes.”
“I know you’re close to him. I imagine facing him like that, the idea of drugging him, dragging him down here was hard. On several levels.”
I nod. Several levels is right. But does Dorian know I’m developing feelings for him? Does he have feelings for me? Last night … Sleeping next to him … I’d have never admitted it, not even a few hours ago, but within those hours everything’s changed. Dorian’s becoming more and more comforting. A source of laughter and happiness. A bright flicker in all this darkness.
And I don’t know if my heart can take the confusion. The pulling in two directions as I lose Nico, yet gain Dorian. And I have lost Nico, haven’t I? To the Imperi. To duty. To everything I always knew would eventually tear him away from me.
We both know it. That look we shared after our kiss confirmed it. The memory tears an invisible hole through my chest, makes me want to curl up into a ball. The place he held in my life used to be so full of light and love and everything Nico. But now it’s empty. Dark.
“It’s hard seeing him this way…” I take a deep breath. “So much has changed. I’ve known it for a while, but it feels so final now.”
Dorian glances over at me, dropping the sarcasm, any and all pretenses. “What feels final?”
“Nico and I … Our friendship … It feels finished. And maybe it was always doomed.” I’m saying it for myself, but also, I think, for Dorian to hear too.
He scoots closer. “I’m sorry, Veda, I really am sorry. For the mission. For you and Nico … For…” His words trail off, but I can see he means it. All of it.
I take a deep, shaky breath and I pat the top of his hand. “Thanks.”
Dorian nods, then turns his head, looks me in the eyes, and I realize how close we’re sitting to each other. When he speaks, his breath grazes my ear and despite the weight of the moment, my heart quickens. “You love him?”
My answer is automatic. “I always will.”
“I understand.” His words are soft, genuine, and at the same time he says it, Dorian pulls back, puts a bit of space between us.
I’m a little worried he took what I said the wrong way. I love Nico, but it’s not so simple. So far from simple, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand it all. But back at the pond, just after our kiss, that was goodbye.
We both saw it, both undoubtedly felt it.
I turn my head to look at him. I’m about to explain this when he asks, “Do you want me to walk back with you?”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here a bit longer. I’ll find my way.”
He gently pats my hand, then stands. “Hey, I’m sorry again. For everything.”
“Me too.” I nod.
I sit for a good five minutes pelting tiny rocks and staring down the dark cave, the empty place where Dorian had been sitting next to me.
The place where, in another life, Nico might have been by my side.
I’M LOST.
I’ll find my way … Those might have been the most idiotic words I’ve said in a while.
I have absolutely no idea how to get back to my room. I’ve given it a good go, but I’m certain the path I’m on is taking me farther into the endless labyrinth. Everything looks the same: tunnels, unmarked doors, stone and dirt, darkness. I take yet another set of rickety stairs only to hit yet another fork.
I flip a mental coin and choose left.
And I thank the Sun because I did find my way.
Eventually.
In a big circle back to the map room.
I march right by—I definitely know the way from here. But despite my mind trying to will my feet forward, I skid to a stop only a few feet past the door.
As if that isn’t enough, I knock.
Then enter.
The Sindaco glances up, motions I come inside. He’s in the same place as when I left, but instead of standing behind the table, he’s sitting on the floor, papers spread out all around him like fallen leaves.
I sit down across from him, narrowly avoiding several maps.
After a short beat of silence, not looking up, he says, “I understand your frustration, you know.” The Sindaco jots something down on the page before him. “My entire childhood, much of my young adulthood, was spent with choices always being made for me.”
“So, you know how used I feel?”
The Sindaco looks up, meets my eyes. “Yes.” He releases a sigh. “But…” I raise an eyebrow. “It’s not the same.”
“How so?”
“My father, those around me, all they wanted was to control me.”
“And this is different?”
He nods. “Veda, you don’t see it now, but you will … You are the opposite of powerless here. You are the power. The influence.”
“You keep saying that, but it doesn’t feel that way.”
“Be patient. Be open. Sometimes you have to read between the lines, so to speak. Refocus to truly see.” He sits up straighter. “All of this…” The Sindaco shuffles his papers. “It’s just details … Important details, but details nonetheless.” He leans forward, speaking more lightly, but with emotion accenting his words. “Your task, your destiny, it’s superior to details.”
“Maybe … But it doesn’t help I’m so in the dark to the details either.” I shrug. “Shouldn’t I have some information? I mean, how am I supposed to be Lunalette when I know less than everyone around me?” Honestly, it makes me feel naive. More like a child and less “legendary savior to the revolution.”
He looks across the space at me, seems to consider my words, then digs through one specific pile of papers. Plucks a page out and hands it over. It’s a map, ink lining different routes, X’s marking specific spots. “We’re attacking in six days, during the next Offering.”
I glance at the large mural of the map on the wall, as if it holds answers. “How?”
“We’re going to attack the Hill. It’s the perfect opportunity. They’ll never see it coming. When most of Bellona is on the Island of Sol, we’ll make our move and take control.”
“Will there be casualties?” Nico …
“Some. Likely many. It’s the cost of war. A war we’re waging, but a war that’s years in the making and long overdue. Once we get Raevald they’ll surrender. That’s the goal.”
“Who’s getting Raevald?” The strap of my pack slips off my shoulder, the atlatl falling from the quiver into my lap, then onto the floor with a light clunk. Instantly, I think of my mother, try my best to invoke her warrior spirit. The Sindaco’s eyes go to the weapon. Her weapon.
“Raevald’s mine,” he says. I follow his stare toward the atlatl before me, his tone taking on a severity I’ve yet to hear.
From my mother’s weapon, he glances up at me.
“I know you want to fight,” he says, quiet yet stern. Again, he focuses on the atlatl, then the quiver of spears. “You’re more like her than you’ll ever know. She’d be so proud.” His voice snags with the last word. “And she would insist you stay behind. Not fight. Be the symbol of the Lunalette.”
“Fighting would be easier…”
“I understand. Being Lunalette is a heavy role to take on. A huge responsibility. But don’t overthink it. You’ll know what to do when the time comes.” It’s sort of his version of “ad astra” or Poppy’s “wait, listen.”
Maybe I will know what to do. Or just be more confused than ever.
“I’ll try.”
“It’s all any of us can do, eh?” A smile plays at his lips as he looks down and surveys the piles of papers before him.
“I should get back,” I say.
“Me too.” He motions toward his work but pauses. “This is for the force briefing tonight.” He studies my reaction. “Would you like to attend?”
“Yes.” I say it too quickly, too enthusiastically.
He appears to hold back a smile.
“But only as Lunalette—to observe. To be less … in the dark.” His repeating my exact words doesn’t go unnoticed.
I nod.
“In one hour.”
Nod-nod. “Thanks. I’ll be there.” I pivot toward the door.
“Hey, Veda?” he says, and I turn back around and face him. “Tell me something about yourself? Something I wouldn’t know. Something outside of all this.”
I think for a second. “I love the snow, how it sparkles in the moonlight. I used to get on to Poppy for smoking his pipe, but now, beyond all reason, I miss the stink of it.” I pause. “I love to fish, but hate gutting the slimy things.”
I look over at him, see he’s smiling.
“What about you?” I ask.
“Hmm…” He looks toward the ceiling. After a short stall, he answers. “I collect maps … old … new … fantasy … nautical … sometimes I create my own. I’ll admit, I’ve been known to have a celebratory pipe from time to time. And … I can’t catch a fish to save my life. Never could.”
“Did my mother fish?”
“Not one bit.”
“So that I get from Poppy, eh?”
He nods, eyes crinkled at the edges under a wide smile.
I return the smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Not nearly. There’s still this distance between us. I’m not sure whether it’s seventeen years’ worth of absence or the weight of everything hanging over us or something I’ll never know, but it’s there. It might always be there.
Again, I turn to leave.
“You forgot something.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see that he’s holding one of my spears. It must have fallen out when I set my pack down.
I walk back to get it and reach out for the smooth, sharp wood. Under the firelight, it holds the faintest sheen of gold.
“Thank you.” I grin, but it’s a sad smile.
The Sindaco stares up at me, expression somber, and nods once.
Walking across the room, watching the lamplight reflect and flicker across the door, distorting it as I exit, something hits me. How under the intense candlelight of the map room, the spear had morphed from wood to gold. Then, in a blink, right back again.
Maybe there’s something to that. Maybe I’ve been looking at this whole Lunalette thing the wrong way. Under the wrong light. I’ve been shining all the rays of the Sun over it, putting so much pressure on myself, been caught under the spotlight of it all, when I should have gone dimmer. Like the candlelight in the map room.
Even though these spears, this weapon is probably made of the finest wood, well taken care of and preserved for so many years until it reached my hands, there are visible blemishes, snags, the corners worn. It’s not perfect, and I imagine neither was my mother.
She wasn’t heir to anything. There was no Lunalette star staining her chest.
She was a fighter.
A soldier.
She held her head high and her atlatl even higher. She fought for what was right.
And isn’t that enough?
Shouldn’t it be enough?
“Yes,” I say.