“I guess I can buy that.”
He picks a pencil up from his desk and jots something on a map. Shakes his head. “I’m not trying to sell you on this idea, Veda.”
“Aren’t you?” Again, Dorian side-eyes me. I’m not intimidated by the Sindaco. If anything, for once in my life, I’ve got a bit of power. Control.
The Sindaco catches me off guard by laughing under his breath at my comment. “I suppose if you don’t believe what I’m telling you, then I am trying my best to convince you of it.”
“So let’s pretend, for conversation’s sake, that I am this Lunalette.” I pull my hood over my head, tug the strings so it barely tightens around my face like I’m getting into costume, though there is a cold draft. “What next?”
“You’ll become a member of the Night, join our community, train to learn to defend yourself from the Imperi.”
“Defend myself from the Imperi…” I laugh under my breath. “I’ve been doing that all my life. Fighting the Imperi is a recurring dream of mine.”
“Yes, but you won’t be fighting the Imperi … You won’t even be facing the Imperi much if things go as planned … We just want you to be ready, to be able to defend yourself if need be.”
“Wait. You want me to lead a revolution and not fight?”
“Exactly.” He says it as if he’s bartering fish for wool. As if it’s the simplest, most normal thing ever. “You’re a symbol to the Night, Veda. Something sacred, someone our people have revered and prayed to and painfully waited over a decade for. I’m not about to toss you into battle and lose you.”
“You’re asking me to flip my world upside down … To abandon my grandfather … My life … My home … Only to stand by and do nothing at all? To be a symbol?” I shake my head at the sheer idiocy of it. “I don’t think so.” Dorian shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “If I’m going to be your Lunalette, I’m doing it on my terms.”
“Veda—”
“No. Do you know how many times in my life I’ve hoped and prayed for some scenario where I’d have the slightest chance to fight back? To be in a position to stand up for myself against the Imperi? Now you’re going to hand that opportunity to me on a silver platter but with ridiculous conditions?” I harden my stare, glare across the short distance between us.
I hadn’t noticed when, but Dorian’s placed his hand over mine atop the armrest. He’s patting me gently. It’s comforting. Calming. But I don’t want to be consoled right now. I remove my fingers from under his when I readjust how I’m sitting, shove my hands into my pockets. Breathe deep.
The Sindaco leans forward, softens his expression, his voice. “Don’t you see? You’ll be saving all those things most dear to you. You’ll be a hero, Veda, the one who finally broke your people free of their invisible chains, the shanks dragging them down to the bottom of society. In this way, you will fight the Imperi. Maybe more effectively. More ruthlessly than in combat. You will be responsible for Basso finally having food, decent living conditions, and, mostly, the Imperi won’t keep them in fear under the guise of the Night.” He finds my eyes, holds my stare. “But we need you alive to do that. Think of yourself not as a follower but as a leader, as being in charge.” That’s a completely foreign notion. “It won’t be simple. I know from experience that being the one everyone looks to isn’t easy. There are days I’d much rather switch places with Dorian.” He stands up behind his desk. “I long to fight, to throw up my hands and draw my sword because I’m fed up too”—and I see it in his expression, feel it in the emotion beneath his words—“maybe even more so because when you’re the one calling the shots, you bear the consequences, good and bad.” He leans forward, hands flat against the top of his desk. “But someone must. And, believe it’s true or not, you, Veda, have been chosen.” He zeroes in on me as if going for the kill. “Can we count on you?”
I won’t deny it, he’s good. The Sindaco’s stare is expectant, his words still sinking in, and I realize my breathing’s picked up, my hands, no longer shoved in my pockets, are clutching the edge of my seat because what he said called to me. Regardless of how much I don’t want to believe what the leader of the Night who’s like-the-High-Regent-but-not is saying, my emotions, all I know and have experienced up to this point in my life, beg otherwise. But I refuse to get completely caught up in all of that. Not yet.
Slowly, I fold my hands in my lap, take a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Before I answer that question, I need to know … What did you mean by ‘our Lunalette has returned home’?” Because he never answered.
The Sindaco looks away. “I don’t have a simple answer to that question except that you’ve been a part of the Night longer than you can imagine. You’re our daughter, sister, friend, cousin … A part of our society. A member of the family. To us, you have returned home. The legend foretold it and now we’ll live it.” It’s exactly what Dorian told me.
I have no words.
“That scar over your heart is no accident, Veda. It was divinely placed there as a symbol, a responsibility.” The Sindaco stands. “I sincerely hope you’ll consider everything I’ve told you with an open heart. This is bigger than only you. Bigger than any of us.” The back of my neck prickles because hadn’t I just thought those exact words?
The Sindaco doesn’t push me to give him an answer at this exact moment. Instead, he dismisses Dorian and me, explaining he has much to do and that he hopes to see me again very soon. But not before wishing me a happy birthday.
I smile, then mumble something about it not being until tomorrow under my breath, but he either doesn’t hear or chooses not to acknowledge it. Dorian definitely hears my comment and once again gives me a horrified look over possibly disrespecting his leader.
I ignore him.
On my way out, I catch something I didn’t see when I entered. He has a small altar in the corner of his cave. But it’s not a Night altar, it’s a Bellonian altar, a Sun altar. My first thought is of home, how much I miss it after only a day—this place a world away. But upon a closer look, behind a row of candles, a hunk of quartz, one of Dorian’s glass trinkets (a five-pointed star), next to an etching of the Sun, is a Dogio crest.
* * *
“I FEEL LIKE he’s keeping something from me.” I’ve been rolling the conversation over and over in my head the entire way back to my cave, and without missing a beat Dorian’s quick to point out I’ve referred to it as “my” cave twice now. “Do you know what it is? What he’s not telling me?”
“I told you, I’ve given you everything I know. If the Sindaco has some other information, it’s not my—”
“Story to tell. I know…” He whips his head toward mine, eyes wide, slight grin tickling at his lips. I suppose he didn’t expect me to guess his next words. But, like my spinning thoughts, Dorian and I have been talking in endless circles.
When we reach cave number nine, there’s a small package waiting just inside. I pick it up and read the tag: HAPPY BIRTHDAY.