Dorian clears his throat. “Bronwyn has a penchant for gift giving. You’ll get used to it … Oh, and, happy birthday, by the way.”
“Thanks, but…”
“It’s-not-until-tomorrow.” I knit my brow. “We know.” He pushes his lips together, shoves his hands in his pockets, like he’s trying not to be smug about it. It doesn’t work. “I should also warn you, Bron’s horrible at waiting to give gifts.”
I smile down at the box. “She’s sweet.” Then I stare back up at Dorian. “But if it’s more tea, I’m not touching it.”
“A smart choice.” I untie the twine and open the linen to find a small, perfect loaf of bread. I lift it to my nose. It’s all spices and pumpkin, maybe a bit of apple, and my mouth’s instantly watering despite the tight knots in my gut. “It smells delicious.”
“Expect more where that came from. I could be wrong, but I think she wants you to stay,” Dorian says lightly.
“Seems she’s not the only one.”
“I … I mean, of course I want you to stay—for the revolution. The legend.” Dorian avoids my eyes as he runs his hand through the long side of his hair so it flops in the opposite direction. His face is flushed and he’s fidgeting with the corner of stone sticking out from the wall. Vulnerable. Embarrassed. Completely endearing. And I’m loving every second of it so much that I allow him to squirm just a little longer.
“Dorian?”
“Yeah—” He continues avoiding my eyes.
“I was referring to the Sindaco.”
“Right. Of course. I mean, all of us—the Night, in general—agree with the Sindaco.” He steps farther into the cave, starts checking the oil in the lamp, replacing a low-burning candle with a fresh one from his pack.
It’s then—Dorian’s charming energy putting those silly butterflies in my empty stomach on notice, pushing some of that worry to the side—that I realize how very hungry I am. I begin tearing into the bread. Somehow it even tastes better than it smells.
I gaze back to Dorian, offering him a piece to which he politely refuses. “Thanks, by the way,” I say. He’s standing by the door, hands shoved back in his pockets, expression oblivious. “For the glass Sun.”
He takes a few steps closer. “If it were me and I’d had to leave everything I know out of the blue, I know I’d want a special reminder of home.”
I’m only able to nod. The mere mention of home sends me into a sudden bout of homesickness. Not because I’ve been away so long, but for the notion of what’s to come. Of the days, weeks, months leading up to the revolution and the what-ifs over how all of that might look, over possible failure. The unknown. And, of course, of what all of this means for Nico and me.
That, as much as I know I should ignore and push it aside, I can’t deny the butterflies and fluttery swirling that takes over when Dorian looks at me that way he does. How my cheeks heat up without my permission when he smiles that crooked smile because of something I’ve said or done. But Nico … There’s a very real emptiness in my heart right now for him. And maybe that’s why I bridge the space between Dorian and me, meeting him where he stands just inside the doorway. “It is special,” I finally manage, the effort of swallowing back my brimming emotion causing my voice to hiccup. “I know each one of these creations must take a lot of time and thought, concentration and effort. It means so much that you’d do that for me.” I look him in the eyes. “Truly, it does.” Dorian catches my eyes with his own. The deepness of his silver-blue gaze sends a slew of goose bumps up and down my arms. It’s like he’s seeing so much more than I’m intending to reveal. My cheeks grow warm, the heat reaching up into my ears, down my neck. I take a step away more abruptly than I mean to.
Dorian’s eyes, no longer searing into mine, glance toward the mat in front of the mural.
“Do you have more questions?” He speaks softly, moving into the room and toward the mat as I follow. “Ones I can maybe answer? Anything that might ease your decision?” We sit down across from each other.
I think for a moment. In my conversation with the Sindaco I’d mentioned the proof (while false) of the Night’s harmful actions helped me believe the stories. And perhaps if I believed this Lunalette story, I’d be able to more fully jump on board. “Is there anything written of this legend? A book or a scroll?” I ask.
“Proof?”
I nod. “Anything?”
“Other than the murals and tapestries, you mean?”
Oh yeah, those. I shrug. “More would be nice.”
“It’s all been passed down by word of mouth. We’ve been thorough about not being found … Not leaving a trail.” Dorian shakes his head. “I don’t envy you, Veda. It’s a heavy burden to bear. One I know most people couldn’t handle, let alone rise up for.” My stomach sinks because he’s pretty much just spoken the doubts swirling in my head. This must show on my face because he leans forward, tone strong yet calm. “What I can promise you is that I’ll be next to you every step of the way. Through training. Through missions. Preparing for battle. I will fight in your name—the symbol of revolution. Retribution. Freedom.” The way Dorian looks back at me, his eyes blue like ice yet so warm, so trusting, once again, I’m lost in them.
“That means a lot.” I manage to get the words out in a whisper.
“I mean every word with all I have.” He nods, unblinking, not taking his eyes off mine, and I realize I’ve leaned closer too. “Will you be staying the night or going back home?”
I swallow, take in my surroundings, the mural on the wall. I recall all those faces earlier at the celebration, the Sindaco’s words, Dorian’s stories, Bronwyn’s kindness, the name Lunalette embroidered by a child’s hand.
I think of my parents. That they were killed by the Imperi.
Then I think of Poppy. How he deserves so much better than the life he’s been dealt. How if there’s even the slightest chance I could change that …
I glance back at Dorian. “I’ll stay. For now. But on one condition. That I can be assured my grandfather will be fed. Taken care of in my absence.”
He nods once. “Done.”
CHAPTER 14
I’ve yet to commit, to even consider agreeing to being the Night’s famed Lunalette, but, four days later, I’m still here. I’ve been assured a message was sent to Poppy stating I was safe. That I’ll get another chance to meet with the Sindaco “soon.” That I’ve spent more time with the leader of the Night than Dorian does each week serving under him. There’s a bit of envy in how he says it, which I immediately tease him about and he vehemently denies.
My birthday passed like any other day, save that morning when I awoke to Bronwyn and a second gift—a fresh blueberry muffin and her admission (I didn’t even have to attempt prying it out of her) that the Night had wanted to hold a large celebration in my honor. Much to her disappointment, the Sindaco had decided against it. Bronwyn explained he worried it might be too much for me.
I assured her he was right.