Dorian leans back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “That’s all I’ve got. The short version of our history. We made a deal. Your move, V.” Ah, there’s the Dorian I recognize. “I know I joke a lot but I always keep my promises.”
I’m stuck. Torn. Split between what I’ve always known to be true and what might actually be the truth. And, mostly, sticking around to figure out which is which.
Dorian stands. “How about this … I’m going to step out, take care of a few things. Why don’t you stay here and think on everything. There’s fresh clothes for you.” He points to the black pile on the floor beside him. “I have someplace to be in about an hour, but I’ll be back to check on you in…” He glances at his hourglass. “Twenty minutes. If you want to stay longer, great. If not, I’ll take you back up.”
Seems fair. Either I stay and find out more or leave. At this point, I feel mostly confident I’m not going to be tortured or fed to anything fanged and poisonous. I pull my shawl tightly around my shoulders, cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll take that deal, but on one condition.” Dorian stares back at me. “Word must be sent to my grandfather letting him know I’m safe.”
“Done.”
I lean forward. “And to Nico.”
“Mmm … I wish we could, but you’re both safer if he doesn’t know.” I wish he wasn’t right, but I know he is. I simply nod.
“I’ll be back in a bit. Meet you outside in the tunnel?”
“All right.”
He smiles close-lipped. Yet the way it reaches his eyes, not in happiness but out of respect, with a certain knowingness, one that conveys, I trust you’ll make the right choice, puts a heavier weight on my shoulders.
Then he turns and leaves.
Alone in the cave now, I take the opportunity to explore things more closely. On the wall next to the mat there are small sections of rocks jutting out like natural shelves. Placed on some of them are stones, crystals, roots … Like the blessings we leave on our Sun altars, but all things from the earth.
When I turn around to face the fresh clothes, something on top catches my eye. Crouching down, I grasp the delicate, sharp-edged thing.
Holding it over a nearby candle, I see that it’s a tiny glass trinket: a small orange-gold Sun. It’s no larger than an inch in width, including the eight sunrays that snake out from the middle. I squeeze it gently in my palm, the sharp points sticking my skin like tiny twigs. I know exactly where it came from and who made it. But I’ve no idea when he slipped it on top of the clothes without me noticing.
Dorian’s sleight of hand aside, something occurs to me. Why in the world would he save me from Imperi soldiers at his own risk, show me the Night’s vegetable gardens, and then bring me to this cave—obviously their personal quarters—if he only meant me harm? And now this? A gift handmade for me in the likeness of the Sun—perhaps a reminder of home? I hold it to my chest, which is warm from the thought of Dorian spending time blowing and shaping this glass with me, my happiness, in mind.
I know what I have to do.
I just hope I’m not wrong.
* * *
MY DECISION MADE, I step behind a burlap curtain nailed to the ceiling and change out of my usual clothes into the ones Dorian left for me. The ones the Night wear.
And after running through the woods, sliding down dens, and climbing through caves all evening, getting out of my old clothes is actually a relief.
The Night uniform fits well enough, but it’s strange to be wearing so much black, traditionally a Dogio color. The clothes—close-fitting pants, long-sleeved shirt, and a button-up jacket—are thicker than my other clothes, perfect for staying warm without needing to layer four things on top of one another. They’re worn, a bit faded in areas. I relace my boots and head out of the cave and toward the tunnel. “Dorian?” I call.
“Oh hi!” But it’s not Dorian, it’s Bronwyn. “Dorian sent me for you.” She looks me up and down, likely taking in my new clothes. Bronwyn can’t be more than a year younger than me, but she’s a good five inches taller. A huge smile overtakes her face, those dimples at the corners of her eyes in fine form. “He had to go to the meeting early. Officer stuff.”
He didn’t mention he was an officer. Maybe that was what the patch on his chest meant? “Oh, okay.” Instantly I glance down at Bronwyn’s clothes. She wears the same moon pin on her collar but only has one small stripe affixed to her uniform.
“I’ve only gone on one mission. Soldiering isn’t quite my calling. I’d rather tend the gardens, raise chickens … I’ve switched to learning those instead.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Of course, should battle call…” She bites her lip. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to talk to you about battles and war. Dorian told me not to scare you off.”
“We pretty much covered that already.” She eyes me from her periphery. “But he’s worried about me getting spooked, eh?”
“Hopelessly…” She smiles and the way she says it, it’s as if she knows more about her brother’s actions than she’s letting on.
Bronwyn motions to the right. “This way—” I’m about to ask her to expand on what she meant by “hopelessly,” then decide against it (we did just meet) when we hit a spiral tunnel that corkscrews in a tight succession of turns. Dorian wasn’t kidding when he said I had no idea how much of a labyrinth this place was.
Once through the spiral, Bronwyn and I snake and climb and scurry through the caves, accidentally squishing creepy-crawly bugs I’m so glad I can’t see. It stays mostly dark save our lantern, and I cannot imagine living without the Sun or fresh air day after day.
When I ask Bronwyn about this, she explains, “We take special vitamins made of roots and fruit and minerals from the garden and the ground. Keeps us healthy.” She certainly looks healthy. I’d have no idea she’s been raised underground. “Plus, there is one place on the Upper where we’re able to sneak to, but only a few at a time. We rotate it out.”
“Where’s that?”
“Just a section of beach. On the very edge of the island, beyond the Crag. We usually go right before sunrise.”
“Beyond the Crag? Wait. Isn’t it surrounded by land mines from the first war? The Imperi stored weapons there, planted mines all around it to keep the Night away.”
She only shakes her head. “It’s abandoned now. We dug the mines out ages ago; they’re stored in a special cave though, far away from anything living. As for the Crag, some of our tunnels extend into it. In fact, the Sindaco—head of the Night; you’ll meet him later—his main dwelling is there.”
“Okay…” With each new tidbit of information, my mind whirls. Everything down here directly contradicts everything up there.
“Ah. Finally. We’re here.” Bronwyn stops abruptly. “Ready?”
“For the meeting?”
She nods. Really enthusiastically.
“Dorian said it’s nothing special.”
Nod-nod-nod.
“Just a small gathering.”