Beware the Night, page 21
Every whack of the sword rings out as Dorian blocks the target’s unpredictable movements, sweat beading his forehead, barely showing through the thin cotton of his tunic.
Lunging forward, the target lurches a good two feet at him, the sharp stick falling and jutting toward Dorian’s middle. Jumping to the side, he stabs the target between the ribs, spilling hay to the floor.
In the back corner, another officer launches a ball over the top of a target. Dorian drops to the ground and rolls just before the ball explodes in a plume of blue smoke right where he’d stood. Burned sulfur fills the air.
Reaching over his shoulder, he pulls a throwing ax from his back and chucks it end over end into the target’s head, splitting it down the middle, red clay peeling like sinew from within the canvas sack.
Just then two more officers come out of nowhere, yelling, “Attack!”
Dorian bounds to the weapons wall and grabs a long-speared polearm. He makes a run for it back to the center as the four officers pummel Dorian with mound after mound of hay-stuffed projectiles.
One after the next, a constant stream of motion, he obliterates the targets, stabbing and slicing them in a deadly dance.
With one target left—the one on the track having been resurrected— he sees I’m watching. Staring me in the eyes, Dorian jabs the polearm straight through the dummy’s chest and out the other side.
The officers erupt in whoops and hollers.
Chest rising and falling, sweat glistening across his forehead, down his neck, he gazes up, so many emotions swimming in his eyes. Whose face did he imagine on that last dummy?
Dorian removes his shirt and wipes his forehead, the back of his neck with it. I don’t want to look, but he’s only a few feet away. It’s impossible to miss his body; each ripple and muscle and angle is right there before my eyes.
I force myself to swallow and then to breathe. I’m frozen, temporarily mesmerized, and he catches me. Sees the blush that’s overtaken my face and is creeping up into my ears.
He runs his fingers over the shaved side of his head and then shoots me his crooked grin. I’m not sure which version of Dorian this is, but deep down, I know I like it.
And as much as I want to shrink into the shadows, instead I smile back.
“Damn, Dorian,” I say, stealing his words to me from earlier.
I walk away, the smile reaching up into my eyes, cheeks heated, flush so deep it extends down my neck and to my chest.
I want so badly to glance back.
This time I hold strong.
CHAPTER 21
Several days pass, and each day is the same, a strict schedule of training, then briefings. The briefings and mission assignments are held in the main cave where the celebration my first night here was held.
The tapestry of the Lunalette leers over my shoulder each meeting, a reminder of the massive responsibility I’ve been dealt, as officers hand out tasks, training schedules, and I wait for my promised mission.
Today is different.
The Lunalette still leers, but the Sindaco is uncharacteristically in attendance. We line up according to rank (newest members up front), officers facing us. I’m in row one, and coincidentally (or not) Dorian stands across from me but avoids my eyes, all business.
“Welcome.” The Sindaco speaks loudly, standing behind a pieced-together podium. “There’s much to cover and very little time to do so, so please listen carefully.” He glances at me. “Things are growing grimmer by the day, the number of missing Basso steadily rising.” A nervous silence spikes the room. “I assure you that my officers and I are tirelessly working on a plan of attack. We’re uncovering new information daily, but it’s not enough. Our spies on Bellona are having to be more discreet than ever. This is where you come in.” He pauses, dark eyes stoic and his hands clutching the edges of the podium. “The time to act isn’t on the day of the attack, but in these days leading up to it. Our first full-scale mission will be to take the Coliseum and the Island of Sol, seize and occupy them. This will send a clear and strong message to the Imperi that we do not accept their Offerings and their impersonation of the Night as an excuse or justification to oppress Basso.
“Leading up to that mission, we will send small teams to the Upper, all with specific tasks to gain information, an advantage. Some of you will receive assignments and, very soon, plans for our official day of attack. It’s nearing and we’re ready. Speed, strength, and the Moon be with you all.” His eyelids are heavy as he nods, then walks away.
I look to Dorian.
He’s staring at me but quickly glances away.
Officers walk down the line handing out missions left and right. They completely pass me by.
Dorian stares forward, watching, scrutinizing my every motion as I get more and more agitated over the Sindaco’s obvious avoidance. He has no plan of keeping his promise. The man was only pacifying me. Biding time.
I’m about to step forward, tell Dorian I’m going to see the Sindaco when he steps forward first, hands me an envelope. “Your assignment.”
I tear it from his grip.
He releases a small whistle but doesn’t speak.
Opening it, willing my hands to stop trembling, I read the handwritten instructions. There’s a location, a time, and a packing list.
It happens tonight.
At the bottom is a final note: I’m to meet with the Sindaco privately first. Dorian will escort me to the map room an hour before we’re to leave.
I lift my eyes. Again, Dorian stares, but he doesn’t look away this time. He nods instead.
I look away.
CHAPTER 22
I’m packed and dressed. I’ve gone over the list at least ten times. I’m ready, prepared for my first mission.
Logistically, anyway.
My atlatl is ready to go, but I’m not so ready to actually use it should I have to. Setting it to the side, being careful not to let it fall over, I sit on my mat.
I lean forward, making sure the laces on my boots are secure, that the ties are tightly tucked into the tops. When I glance up to stand, my own name stares back at me. It’s in Poppy’s script, jotted across an envelope. His final farewell. I added the letter to my cave altar a couple of nights ago.
My first reaction is to leave it be. I shouldn’t get all teary-eyed right before Dorian meets me for our mission.
But … I stare back at the letter. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s exactly what I need right now.
Sliding down the wall, I take a seat on the mat and pull my knees up against my chest. I open the worn paper, read it for a second time.
I take in the words as Poppy’s voice plays inside my head, reminding me of who I am, what I need to do, what I’m capable of.
I can’t help but see him that day of the Offering, those gray eyes bursting with all the love and hope in the world and even moments before he’d die.
Always so strong, so brave.
If he were here right now, he’d tell me to be the same. To muster the strength and courage I need. The bravery he knows is deep inside of me. That I wanted this. I demanded to go on a mission.
And he’d be right. My thoughts are clipped off by a knock at my door.
I fold the letter up, placing it in my inner pocket, next to my heart.
Then I open the door.
Dorian. Right on time. We’re to meet with the Sindaco for his special instructions before we set out. “Ready, V?” He shoots a wide grin my way.
I breathe in, holding it for a few seconds, then let it out. His grin quickly falters. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Really. Just thinking.”
He moves closer.
The memory, and more, the image, of him training a few days ago flashes behind my eyes, and my stomach flits right when I should be focusing on the mission ahead, meeting with the Sindaco. Stupid stomach. Stupid butterflies.
“Thinking about the mission?”
I nod, half lying.
“Veda.” My stomach does that thing again. “You’re ready for this. You’ve been training nonstop. Studying. Honestly, you probably know more than I do at this point.” He lifts an eyebrow.
I laugh, play along. “Oh, I definitely do.”
Despite the joke, he must still sense my doubt because he asks, “Give and Take?”
“Huh?” I heard him, but, what? Now?
“Come on … It’ll be fun.”
“Fine. You know I’m weak to a game of Give and Take.”
“Exactly.” He gives a crooked smile.
* * *
BY THE TIME we’re nearly there, Dorian’s told me about his first mission—a huge failure and one that somehow left him bootless. “That’s a story for another time,” he finishes, slightly embarrassed, more like he’s trying to leave me with a cliffhanger I’m sure to want to come back to.
“—What about your first time fishing?”
“—Did you—”
Dorian gets his question out first, so I’m forced to answer and he’s officially winning, which I hate. Which he knows, playful grin and all.
“I was three the first time I actually did it on my own: baited my line, held my pole, caught a fish, and reeled it in. Poppy unhooked it and cleaned it, but he showed me how in painful detail. It wasn’t more than a minnow, but I was proud and Poppy…” I swallow back a painful knot of emotion. “Poppy was exaggeratedly proud. He even cooked it.”
“How did that work?”
“Not well.”
We both laugh.
“And look at you now,” Dorian breaks in. “You can probably catch a beast with your eyes closed.”
“I have.”
He raises his brow, not so much surprised as impressed.
And for a moment, a split second, we catch each other’s eyes, the laughter falters, and what’s left is an invisible energy between us. Something tethering him to me and me to him that I can’t quite place because it’s not exactly anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s as if here, in this moment, in this cave, Sun knows how far beneath the earth, everything’s all right. Safe.
Instantly, I think of Nico. Because I have felt this way around him. Right and safe in his presence until I didn’t. Until another Dogio walked past, or an Imperi soldier’s eyes found mine. Then, like lightning, the pendulum would shift to the other direction: fear, shame, confusion.
And I suppose that’s the difference. The newness of this sort of familiar emotion.
He stops walking, glances ahead. “We’re here.” And he sounds almost as surprised as I feel.
“Oh. Right.” The door to the map room practically appears before us.
“The Sindaco requested to see you privately, but only if you’re comfortable with that. Otherwise I can come along. I was briefed earlier.”
“It’s fine. I can see him on my own.”
“Good. Well”—he’s already walking away—“I’m going to see if anyone else needs help preparing, but I’ll meet you at the den. The Sindaco can tell you how to get there. It’s not far.”
“I’ll find it.”
He nods.
I knock on the door.
“Come in,” the Sindaco calls from the other side.
Dorian turns and leaves, and I’m left with a strange feeling. Like I missed something that pushed him into officer mode. As if a switch went off in the few seconds between that moment of eye contact and now. Did something happen I’m unware of? Is he feeling as confused with our … whatever it is we are … as I am?
I want to ask him, stop him from leaving and have him come with me, but the Sindaco opens the door and invites me inside just as Dorian rounds the corner.
I follow the Sindaco into the cave, that large map painted across the wall lit up by several lamps.
We sit on mats before the map of Bellona. When I glance toward the wall, I notice there are new markings on the mural, red Xs at various entrances and exits. Places, I assume, that will either be used or closed off when the Night attacks. The Sindaco follows my eyes.
“Are the markings to show closed-off areas?” I ask.
“Some, yes. Others”—he points to a green circle—“are good ways out, nice and hidden, less foot traffic on the other side.” He stares from one spot to another. “It’s just a bit of brainstorming I’m doing, plans for the attack. We’ve got to be more organized than usual. Precise. I’m having to pull on some of my much earlier training.”
“Training?”
He nods. “Remember, the current High Regent is my father.” Oh, I remember. “I grew up in the Imperi palace. Was groomed from birth to rule that island and in the way my father saw fit. Precisely. Relentlessly.” He sighs. “My mother died soon after I was born. So it was just me and my father, whom I rarely saw. I barely know him, but what I do know is cruelty. Harshness. Someone who strives for perfection and advancing his own interests.” He glances toward the map. “Thank the Sun for your mother. She saved me.”
“How so?” Now this I’m interested in. I have seventeen years’ worth of my mother’s past, her personality, her history to catch up on.
He meets my eyes. “You…” He clears his throat. “You look just like her. It’s remarkable.” I feel like I should smile but chew the inside of my cheek instead, unsure of what to say. “Your mother worked in the palace. She gardened. She was actually the one who started the main garden down here. Each morning she’d put out fresh flower arrangements throughout the house. I’d never known anyone to find such joy in something so seemingly mundane. Cutting flowers and placing them in vases? I couldn’t fathom how she always wore a smile. And, my Sun, what a smile it was! I came to look forward to it every morning. Eventually I found the courage to introduce myself. Then strike up a conversation. Then I noticed she was always placing the vase in the hallway outside my room at the same time. She wanted to see me as well.
“Before too long we were meeting in the garden, spending hours under the Sun, surrounded by nature, just talking. We were in love.” He smiles so warmly it’s infectious, and I surprise myself, probably him as well, by mirroring it. My mother and the Sindaco, young and in love … It’s hard to imagine when the only scraps I’ve ever had to go on are a photo and a name. “We knew because I was Dogio, not to mention the heir, and she was Basso, we had no future. And because I didn’t want to rule, especially how I’d be forced to—in my father’s footsteps—we left. And we joined the Night. When my father discovered I’d left he told everyone I was taken by the Night. Brutally killed. His hate for the Night, revenge over my betrayal began years ago. Luckily, he never made it a point to know the people he employed, so your mother’s identity, in turn yours and Poppy’s, was safe.”
“How did you both end up joining the Night?”
“Amalie…” He says her name as a sigh. “Your mother was a member. She was actually a spy, stationed in the royal palace, no less. And despite her loyalty, her commitment to the cause, she couldn’t fight her heart just as I couldn’t deny mine. When we decided to leave together, she resigned from her post and another gardener was hired.”
“Wow.” I release a long breath. “So my mother was a spy?” I glance over his shoulder at the single atlatl spear he has on display behind his desk. The one original piece of it he kept for himself.
“Not just a spy.” He looks back at the spear too, then returns his focus to me, giving a knowing look. “She was our best spy.”
“And Raevald knows you’re here. He knows you’re in charge?”
“He suspects I’m still here, that I’m still alive. He doesn’t know I’m in charge, but he might assume that as well. His hate for me, for what I did, runs deep. It wasn’t until I left that the stories of the Night began to surface. That we’re evil monsters who prey on children and take people from their beds at night? That was all him. The fact Basso are disappearing in droves and it’s being blamed on the Night? All him. He can’t stand that I abandoned everything he provided me with for the Night. I mean, he was always power hungry. Always felt that Dogio, because of their station and influence, should be in full control of Bellona. Unfortunately, my betrayal gave him an excuse to do something about it.” The Sindaco pauses. “I’m sorry … You asked a simple question and I dumped a whole history on you.”
“No. I want to know all of it. Everything.”
He laughs. “You’ve gotten the most crucial parts at least. But as of now, we have more pressing matters.”
“Right.” My mission. The one I demanded he give me. I’d nearly forgotten.
“The main reason I asked you here tonight, Veda, has to do with your friend Nico.”
My heart skips a beat. “Okay…”
“We’ve had our eye on him for some time. From what I hear, he sounds a lot like me at that age. Confused. Conflicted between his heart and duty. Fiercely stubborn. But if we could get him on our side … if he joined the Night, I believe he could prove invaluable in defeating the Imperi. His family is the second most powerful on the island. And now that he’s been named heir-to-be, with Nico on our side I’ve no doubt countless Dogio would follow.”
My first thought is, No. I will not drag Nico into this.
But then I remember he’s already in it; he just chose the wrong side.
“I’d do anything to have Nico here instead of up there. But I can’t imagine any circumstance where he’d willingly join the Night.”
He leans forward. “You’re right. But what if we don’t give him a choice?” I narrow my eyes as he lifts a small glass vial, a covered needle on one end, from his jacket pocket. “This is a highly concentrated amount of moonroot.”
My eyes go wide … Does he expect me to drug Nico?
“It’s most often used to make a relaxing tea.” The tea I drank on my first night here. “But moonroot in its purest essence—this tincture—will render someone immobile and without their faculties. In short, it’ll knock them out, cause temporary paralysis.”
“You want me to give that to Nico?”
“Only to get him down here, yes. Then I’m certain we can convince him to stay. To join.”
