I glare back at Dorian.
“How much do you remember?” he asks.
“Enough.” My stomach turns over and sinks simultaneously. I remember the Offering, Veda’s head against the altar, an arrow in my back, Veda’s eyes on mine, being dragged away. An explosion. Darkness. And waking up down here. “Is she…”
Dorian’s sight veers from me to the floor. “We don’t think so.”
“Don’t think so?”
He only shakes his head. “We’re doing everything we can. Everything.”
“Do more.” I manage to lift my head, probably not enough for him to notice.
Dorian nods. And the way his eyes harden and his shoulders tense, it’s plain to see he means it.
* * *
THREE DAYS PASS.
I’ve started marking them on the wall with a hunk of charcoal. Three single lines stand sentry to where I sleep like sad fence posts. But it feels less like I’m counting how long I’ve been down here and more like how many sleeps I’ve endured since I last saw Veda breathing.
“She’s not who you think she is.” Dorian’s gnawing a sliver of dried, salted meat. It seems he’s been assigned to me. At least until I heal. He’s here between missions, during meals.
I’m finally able to sit up. Eat almost like normal. I take a bite of an apple, which is somehow both under ripened and bruised. I glare across the room at him. “I believe I know her pretty well.”
He quirks an eyebrow. Like he has some grand news that’s going to blow me right over.
We’ve been doing this thing where we both want control of the situation. Clearly, he’s in control on several levels, there’s no debating that. But I’m fully aware they must need something from me or I’d be dead by now.
And he’s fully aware I know this.
“Here.” He hands me a fresh cup of tea. “You’re gonna want this—it has a great way of both numbing and clarifying all at once.”
I take a tentative sip.
Because, all right, Veda has definitely surprised me more than once the past few weeks.
But what exactly is he referring to? Her connection to the Night? What happened that evening she showed up at my house? What is Dorian’s relationship with her?
I take another not-so-tentative sip.
“Veda’s more than just a member of the Night. She’s … special.”
“Okay…”
“Well, more than special. That mural—” He gestures toward the mural of the Sun and moon painted on the cave wall. “It’s not just art or something nice to look at. It’s a story. Veda’s story.”
I stop mid-drink, looking at him over the rim of the metal cup.
He pauses. Takes a minute to knead the heels of his hands into his eyes, rake his fingers through his hair.
I set the cup on the ground. Stare. Impatiently wait for him to get on with it.
“I’ve been trying to figure out the easiest way to explain it. It’s sort of a lot. I don’t want to overwhelm you. Especially—”
“My Sun, just say it!”
This sets him off like I hope it will. He stands. Begins pacing across the cramped space. “Veda’s the Sindaco’s daughter. The Sindaco is Raevald’s long-lost and believed-to-be-dead son.” I open my mouth to argue, tell him he’s got it all wrong, but he continues before I can get a word out. “She’s also this”—he marches toward the mural and points at the star that’s shoved between the moon and the Sun—“Lunalette.”
“Luna what?”
“Lunalette. It’s an ancient legend of ours. That one day a girl who is born of both the Moon and sun, one with a star marked upon her heart, will lead the Night to revolution against the Imperi.”
My jaw has gone slack, my brain spins in several different directions, and that pain in my back rears up on account of every muscle in my body tensing. “Let me get this straight…” I attempt sitting straighter but have to suck a deep breath in when my injury reminds me not to with an angry jolt. “Veda—my Veda—” Dorian’s eyes dart to mine. “Is the High Regent’s … granddaughter?” Dorian nods. My brain continues spinning. “That makes her…” I shake my head. “No…”
“Yes. The true heir of Bellona.”
I’m speechless. All this time … and I had no idea. “Did she know?”
“No. Well, she didn’t find out until I brought her down here. The truth slowly surfaced.” My stomach suddenly drops, which must show on my face, because he adds, “I’m sure she planned to tell you.”
I nod. “We haven’t seen much of each other since.” But then I remember. That last night we saw each other … What had she said that made me smile? She had two things, maybe a third, to tell me? But she didn’t get the chance. “My Sun.”
“Pretty much.”
“She should be heir. By lineage. By the laws of Bellona.” I’m nearly shouting.
“Well”—Dorian laughs under his breath—“I mean, it’s not like she’d be welcomed. We’re pretty sure Raevald had already put two and two together when he planned to have her executed. Not exactly a long-lost granddaughter’s welcome.”
“No … of course not. Had he known any earlier, the High Regent would have had her killed for simply sullying his name. The family line tainted.”
He crosses his arms. “You Dogio really take the whole ‘keep it in the family’ thing seriously, eh?”
“Not all of us,” I say through gritted teeth. Then something else occurs to me. “What about Veda’s mother?”
“One of us. A spy. Killed by the Imperi not too long after Veda’s birth.”
I shake my head. If Raevald knows that’s the case, that Veda’s mother was not only Basso but a member of the Night, it is a miracle Veda’s alive … assuming she still is. I force a deep breath, quickly move on. “And the other part?” I ask. “The … Lunalette?”
Dorian looks me up and down. “You think you can walk a few steps with my help?”
“My legs are fine. Walking isn’t the problem, it’s the getting-up part that makes me want to stab someone.”
“Good thing you don’t have any weapons then.”
An airy laugh that surprises us both sneaks out of my mouth. “Indeed.”
I agree to the help, and it takes us an excruciating amount of time to get me from sitting to standing, but I do it. No way I’d have been able to get there without his help. No idea how I’ll ever sit back down, but I’ll worry about that later.
My eyes sting from the pain—my back and chest are nothing but daggers. But I’m walking. Slowly. One foot in front of the other, each labored step a pile of needles traveling straight up my spine and to my injury. My muscles are weak, my senses dizzy from lack of movement and that damn tea. But I’m moving.
Dorian takes me out of the cave I’ve been in the past three days and helps me down a short distance through a tunnel. He pauses as we pass one particular cave entrance, the sign outside reads: SOLDIERS. But he keeps going, and I don’t ask.