The short voyage from the Island of Sol back to Bellona is mostly silent save the loud whimpering of an unhappy baby.
Poppy, Nico, and I pick at our turkey, stare at the foamy water as it sloshes over the deck, glance out across the endless sea. But none of us speaks.
When we arrive at the port closest to the Basso village, we’re greeted by several small fires. People have already started burning garbage, broken furniture, and ruined belongings. Poppy decides to check on the bait stand, assess the damage at the market, while Nico and I get started cleaning up at home.
I cover my mouth with my shawl to filter the smoke and the stench.
We’ve walked no more than a quarter mile down the road when Nico skids to a stop.
One of the large Imperi hourglasses from the fishing hole stands before us, so inexplicably out of place it’d be humorous if it wasn’t so menacing. It’s cracked, the black sand spilled into a large mound on the ground. Painted across the glass in what looks like blood, but I assume—hope—is the same red paint used in our home, is the ominous warning TIME’S RUNNING OUT!, the words hugged between two red crescent moons. Next to the hourglass is a long list of unaccounted-for Basso, one of the altars for the missing already forming, candles lit and dripping wax onto photos.
“I had no idea,” Nico breathes, taking in the scene. “How did they…?”
“I don’t know. They defy reason … and gravity. It’s worse than last year.” I inhale deeply. Force myself to stand straighter, peel my eyes away from the scene. “But we’ll come together. Work to clean it up. We always do.” Then I remember. “You’ve never seen this before.” Nico doesn’t respond. “This doesn’t happen up on the Hill. Not like this anyway, eh?”
Still staring at the red words, his eyes narrow and his hands form into fists at his sides. “No.”
I turn and face him. “You still haven’t told me … Why did you sit with us today?”
He gazes down at me. “I think I sort of snapped. That Basso girl inside the Coliseum kneeling, praying to the Sun for protection against the Night … This…” He motions to the disaster that is our village. “You…” He glances away. “Outside my house last night.” I nearly choke on my own saliva at the mention of it. Again, Nico finds my eyes and this time I look away. “I’ve enjoyed that feast every year … The tiny frosted cakes shaped like Suns, how when I was small my parents would let me stay up until I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and how now, I’m given a glass of my father’s coveted port like it’s a rite of passage.” He shakes his head as if recalling memories I can’t begin to fathom much less put an image to. “But last night was different. Someone who knows another side of me witnessed part of it, and for one of the first times in my life, I wasn’t proud to be Dogio. Those cakes I used to fill my pockets with as a kid had a bitter aftertaste.”
“Nico … I didn’t mean to make you feel that way…”
“You didn’t. I mean, yes, you being there brought it to my attention, but only by allowing me to get a glimpse through your eyes. Because, Veda, when I saw you outside my gate, two things hit me. The first was, ‘Why the hell isn’t my best friend inside my house, enjoying this feast with me?’”
“And the second?”
“That you wouldn’t be allowed. But even if you were, you couldn’t because you were about to be attacked.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, staring back at the pictures on the altar. “No Dogio have gone missing … We never do. Why is that?”
I shrug. “You have better protection, I guess. More Imperi soldiers roaming your streets … Better locks on your doors. I suppose we’re easy prey.”
“It’s not right.”
“I know.”
“Want to know the worst of it?” I don’t answer, but I hold his gaze. “Here I am, my family brushing shoulders with the highest Imperi officials, helping pass laws and regulations and plans for the island. I should be able to do something. My parents should want to do something. But they don’t. I can’t. Not yet.”
“One day maybe. Maybe you’ll be the one who sparks change.”
“Maybe.” But the word sounds hopeless.
“Still, you didn’t have to sit with us at the Offering, break from tradition.” I turn my head and look into his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re always welcome. But I’m not sure it was the smartest, most productive way to change things.”
“I know … I wasn’t thinking of the consequences, I just wanted to be near you and Poppy.”
“I’m glad you were.”
“I’ll try to do more, Veda, I promise.” I want so badly to believe he can do more. “And with the Offering today … Last night’s Ever-Sol Feast … I’m hopeful things will get better for Basso. We’ll be seeing less of the Night, I believe that.”
I want to believe that too. Have the same hope he’s got. The same faith in the Sun I once had. But just how Nico’s tiny frosted Sun cakes are suddenly bitter, something changed for me as well today with Maisy’s Offering.
It’s like my eyes opened.
And what I’m seeing? It’s not hopeful.
As Nico and I make our way back to Poppy, many are hard at work repairing the damage. Some only stare hopelessly into nothing in a dead daze. Others sob uncontrollably. The latter are the unluckiest of all. I assume they’ve lost loved ones. No one knows what becomes of them. What is known is they’re never seen again. Lost to the Night.
I try my best to search, hoping beyond all reason I’ll find one of those faces from the photos on the altar, when my sight is pulled to the Hill and the northern Dogio perch of the island. So sleepy. So still and safe and content. No smoke billowing from stinking garbage. No screams for missing loved ones.
Nothing.
A short walk up the hill yet an entire world away.
THE MORE WORK we do around our cottage, the more damage we seem to uncover. The Night weren’t here long, but they made the best of those few minutes.
Poppy’s working and swearing diligently as he hammers our kitchen table back together. I’m chipping away at the now-dried, caked paint staining our floors.
Nico is a machine, bounding up and down the stairs, bringing our supplies back from the cellar and refilling it with everything we took out to make space. Jars of pickled vegetables, firewood, Poppy’s rusty tools. Nico makes several trips from the kitchen to the cellar to the backyard to the cellar without issue or complaint.
He’s removed his jacket and scarf and only wears a light tunic, one that fits him expertly. It’s clearly tailored to his exact specifications, showing the angles of his arms and chest, but in a subtle way, yet one that still manages to pleasingly cast heat over my face. He’s rolled his sleeves above his elbows. The buttons at his chest, having come undone, show his skin, a bit of collarbone, all of it speckled in a light sheen of sweat. I try not to dwell on this, but can’t begin to help it, especially as, I swear, he’s intentionally walking past me more than he has to.
I’m in our common area mending the fabric of Poppy’s favorite chair—slashed down the back with a knife, its insides spilled—when Nico bounds up the stairs.
“Veda?” He stands across the room, several ancient tools in his arms. “Can you get me the keys to the shed? I put them in my jacket pocket.”
I nod and make my way to the kitchen, where his coat is slumped over a chair. Reaching into his pocket, I pull out the keys, but something else, a tightly folded piece of paper, falls to the ground. When I pick it up, the words DEPARTMENT OF THE IMPERI ARMY stare up at me.
I know I shouldn’t, but I do it. I unfold the paper. In Nico’s chicken scratch of handwriting, I see his name written across the top. Then his address. It’s an official army officer’s agreement.
“Veda—”
“Yesterday when you cut Arlen off after his army announcement, is this what you were trying to avoid me finding out?” I wave the form at him.
“No.” He pauses. “Well, sort of. It’s not how it looks.”
Blood rushes to my head and pounds in my ears. “I mean, really, Nico.” I raise my voice. “I’m very interested to see how you’re going to do more to help us Basso when you’re legally barred from socializing with us … With me.”
Poppy walks in, probably curious as to why I’m shouting at my best friend.
“Nicoli. Take those tools out to the shed, please?”
“Yes, sir.”
I throw the keys for the shed at him, but he catches them before they hit him square in the chest. His jaw tenses as he turns and leaves.
“Veda…” Poppy comes over and puts his arm around me, motioning I sit with him.
I show Poppy the agreement.
“I know.”
“You know?”
“No … I mean, I’m not surprised.” His voice is gentle and soft. “He’s not only Dogio, but a Denali. And very loyal, protective. It was only a matter of time.”
“But why would his parents allow him to join? Their plan is for him to take over their business. To marry a Dogio girl and have Dogio Denali babies. To carry on their legacy, not to fight, to govern. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Duty. It’s in his blood.” He pats my hand, and something about him admitting it forces a rock to lodge in my throat. Duty … Dogio have duty. Basso have … I glance around our broken home, but my eyes settle on Poppy. Basso have one another. But even that’s dwindling.
And I have a feeling, with the Night leaving their mark more and more, the Sun clearly not satisfied with the state of things, that war is only around the corner.
Nico walks back into the house, pile of wood stacked to his chin. He sets it on the floor next to the hearth and brushes debris off his shirt.
Poppy stands, picks up a couple of logs, and descends to the basement, giving us a moment to talk, clearing his throat so obviously as he leaves that it’s almost comical.
I make eye contact with Nico, who’s moved into the kitchen. He’s standing at the window and has taken off his tunic only to be left wearing a white cotton undershirt.
I walk into the kitchen and settle next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “Nico…”
He turns his head toward me, and it’s then I see his eyes are red. Nico knows I see, that I understand why, but he doesn’t look away and instead searches my face.
Turning toward me, he takes my hands in his. I inch closer and so does he. Before I know it we’re embracing, arms wrapped around each other. With Nico’s strong arms around my waist, chest pressed against mine, we’ve never been so physically close and I never want to move from this spot, this moment. My face at his chin, I can smell the woods on his neck, the saltiness of his skin.
I wrap my arms around Nico’s back, pulling him closer, tighter; I’m on the cusp of tears. There’s a burning in my throat that extends up into my nose, toward my ears. I clear it, take a deep breath, and pull away only to be greeted by a letdown Nico.
“Nico—”
He places the tips of his fingers over my mouth.
“Please don’t mention it. Not now … Tomorrow … We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
“But…” I pull the army agreement from my pocket. “Don’t you see? It is tomorrow. Sooner or later we’re going to have to face this.” If Nico joins the army? If we’d been caught two minutes earlier within each other’s arms—he an Imperi officer, me Basso—one of us would immediately be arrested for stepping over the line. For being so outrageously out of bounds. Bellonians have been executed over it: sabotaging an officer’s duty. And we both know which of us it’d be.
“No.” He yanks the paper from my hand, wads it up into a tiny ball, and throws it on the floor.
As I watch it land, roll underneath the lip of the cabinet, something I can’t believe didn’t occur to me before slaps me square in the face. “Wait.” I glance at the hourglass around my neck. The sand is quickly draining the top bulb, filling the bottom, and nearing the vesper bells line. When it reaches it, I’ll turn the thing over for the night. “How are you here right now?”
“What?” Nico nervously laughs under his breath, a sure sign I’ve caught him in something.
“How the hell are you able to be here with me? On the Basso side of the island? On Offering day? Shouldn’t you be at … something? Some Dogio event? Meeting? Feast? You’ve always got something, especially on Offering days.”
He’s thinking hard. Spinning a lie. I know him too well not to spot it. All he gets out is “Just trust me” before he’s saved by the shattering of glass from the other side of my house.
We rush to the scene to find Poppy’s accidentally knocked out an entire windowpane, glass and all.
Poppy’s not hurt. The window’s done for. And Nico’s temporarily off the hook.
“You’re avoiding cleaning your room,” Nico says as we make our way toward the front door. He knows me so well it’s almost frightening.
“Maybe,” I joke. He raises an eyebrow and I sigh. “All right. I can’t face it.” I’m exhausted after not sleeping all night, followed up by a particularly hard Offering, and then the hours of cleanup, Nico’s army agreement. “Honestly, all I want to do is curl up into a ball on that chair in front of the fire and sleep until I wake up.”
“You should.”
I laugh. “Right.” As if I could. As if napping’s a luxury I can afford.
“Why not?” He takes my hand. “You’ll feel better. Even if you only sleep an hour.” He leads me to the chair and I don’t even try to resist. I drop down into the old cushion, let my neck rest against the back.
He smiles and I laugh lightly. “Great. Are you happy now? I’ll never get back up.”
He flashes a crooked smile, his dimple showing spectacularly. “My evil plan worked, then.” He spreads a knit blanket over me. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” But he doesn’t leave, not right away. Instead Nico just stands there, hovering over me, gazing down at me, and I swear he wants to kiss me, or he’s going to kiss me, or in the least he’s thinking about kissing me, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it too.
He leans closer. So close I can feel the warmth of his breath brush my forehead.
“Thanks for your help today,” I say, because the silence between us is drowning me.
He only nods, eyes unwavering, set on mine.
I swallow.
He leans in even closer.
And … kisses me on my cheek.
As he lingers there, breath warm against my face, my stomach dances and dips with both excitement and disappointment and What the hell were you thinking, you can’t kiss Nico, soon to be an Imperi officer!
Things are already complicated enough.
I turn to the side, shut my eyes, and wrap myself up in the blanket. “See you later?” I say, my insides a mess of tangles, my heart telling my mouth to shut up and kiss him already, my head snuffing that idea out before I do something I can’t take back.
“See you later,” he says. My eyes are closed, but I can tell he’s smiling. I keep them shut until I hear him walk away and then open and close the door behind him.
Once Nico’s gone, I jump up—as if I could actually take a nap—and rush to the front window.
I watch as he quickly walks toward the Hill. Before long he turns the corner, the flash of his red scarf disappearing behind some trees. In a matter of one mile or so, Nico will be back to his world. A magical place where candied lemons come by the handful, naps are taken at one’s leisure, and no one’s worrying themselves over mopping up paint-stained floors and boarding up broken windows because they can’t fathom affording a new pane of glass.
Honestly, I don’t blame him if he chooses not to return tonight.
But the thought leaves an aching in my throat.