We recite the Prayer. As if nothing’s changed. As if that announcement Raevald just made didn’t turn my entire world inside out. As if the boy I’ve known and loved for a decade didn’t turn into someone else overnight, didn’t become the enemy before my eyes. It’s routine as usual.
“As we bear witness to this sacrifice, we remember: ‘A thriving Bellona is only as strong as the light that shines upon it. Blessed be the light.’”
“—Blessed be the light.”
Same speech each Offering, hasn’t changed in centuries. Will it with Nico? When he takes power will he still be powerless to actually change things? Will he even want to?
Raevald raises his arms, then lowers them, motioning that we take our seats.
The Coliseum obediently sits.
My knee shakes and my palms sweat.
Beneath the High Regent’s balcony is the familiar cranking of the door. The canal that runs along the floor of the Coliseum fills with water.
Several more soldiers, a handful of officers, enter the arena. My chest tightens and a burning wave of nausea hits my stomach when I spot one of the officers. Nico stands at attention by the arched exit. I dig my fingernails into my leg.
The entire dome is still. Nothing happens. People look around, voices whisper, mumble over the unorthodox nature of what’s happening. Or not happening. Why it’s taking so long.
“The Offered.” I’m a breath away from leaving my seat, bolting up the stairs and to the exit to find Poppy. “The honored, is…” The High Regent pauses, drawing it out. Once he says it, I’ll leave. “Jac Adeline.”
I hear the name. It comes out brisk and sharp, like a burst of winter wind, and encircles me a hundred times. The High Regent’s voice still echoes in the distance: Jac Adeline. The name gravely repeats over and over until it’s nothing but a wisp in my ear: Jac Adeline.
Poppy strides through the door and into the arena, two soldiers walking behind him.
No. I whimper, tears rolling down my face.
As if he knows exactly where I’m sitting, he finds my eyes. I shake my head.
He nods his once. Yes. So strong. So at peace.
I watch as Poppy is led to the middle of the dome floor, head held high, silver tuft of hair blowing to the side with the breeze coming off the Great Sea.
And with the breeze, I’m slapped awake.
“No!” I scream, jumping from my seat, running down the aisle and hopping over the railing. Several people shout in warning from the stands, but it’s too late. I’m nearing Poppy and the soldiers, sliding along the gravel to a stop.
“Veda, no!” Poppy shouts.
“Why him? There was no mark on his medallion!” I look straight up at Raevald. “No mark!” The words are fire and singe my throat on their way out.
Calmly, he stands, leans over the railing, and addresses me and only me through the golden speaking-trumpet. “You should be proud, Miss Adeline. It is the greatest honor to be Offered.”
I run toward Poppy, falling into his arms.
But as soon as I’m there taking in my poppy—all mint and earth and castile soap—I’m ripped away by two officers, their crimson sashes flashing brightly in my periphery.
“Veda,” one says into my ear. It’s a voice I’d know anywhere.
All I hear now is betrayal.
Pulled off my feet, I’m forced to watch from the wall as Poppy makes his way to the altar. Once there he places his medallion atop it. I can see the mark of the golden Sun from where I stand.
We did get a marked medallion. I just never saw his.
Damn it, Poppy. I don’t know what he tossed into the box when we entered the Coliseum, but clearly it wasn’t the true talisman.
Nico tries to shield my eyes, pulling me into him, but I push away.
Betrayal.
“Poppy,” I whimper, trying to fight my arms free, unable to do anything other than kick my legs.
My grandfather drops to his knees at the altar. A soldier slices each of his palms and Poppy smears the stone with his blood. His final mark. Proof of his sacrifice.
“No…” My whimper now a sob.
Poppy’s always been tall, strong. Bent over the altar, vulnerable in so many ways, somehow he still looks tall. Taller than I’ve ever seen him.
That’s when the raft is brought in.
My grandfather walks purposefully toward it, steps aboard, then sits on his knees.
Gray eyes set on me, he gives the slightest of nods, eyes firm but heavy.
It’s all right. It’ll be all right.
The hourglass is full.
A single bell rings.
The Sun directly above, shining down and illuminating Poppy’s hair so it’s a silver halo, he mouths, My Veda.
It’s too much.
Too much.
Something snaps inside me. Nico must not expect me to keep fighting, because I easily tear myself free, once again running toward my grandfather.
“Veda, stop!” Nico yells.
I’m going to jump onto the raft, pull him off, and we’ll swim for it. Swim forever if we must. As long as we’re far, far away from this cursed island.
But I see it on his face, his eyes, the fear I’m going to get myself killed too if I keep fighting it, because there is no away from here.
And I’ll expose the truth.
And everyone depending on me.
On the Lunalette.
This is bigger than you, Veda.
It’s bigger than Poppy.
It’s then that my grandfather reaches into his belt, removing the knife he religiously keeps tucked in the secret inner pocket.
Lifting the blade up over his chest, he looks at me and only me.
Poppy, no! But I don’t say it because I’m running straight at him.
“Be strong, Veda. Be strong,” he says as I approach. Then, eyes toward the Sun, he slams the knife into his own heart, falling back onto the raft.
The crowd reacts. Nico calls my name. Someone screams. But then everything and everyone is silent.
The soldiers scramble to finish the ceremony. As if what just happened didn’t really happen, they cut the rope and the raft is set free, pulled along by the current.
But the boat’s moving too fast. He’s leaving too fast, the knife sticking up from his chest, his body bent over, bright red blood blooming through his white linen shirt. It’s wrong. All wrong.
“Poppy,” I say, mouth slick with tears.
Floating through the door, the raft carrying my grandfather drifts out to sea.
He’s gone.
“NO!” I scream so loud, something splits in my throat and I’m pulled from Nico and escorted by two soldiers back to my seat.
Everything disappears around me.
The archway door cranks closed, the canal dries up, the crowd claps. Their applause is more boisterous than usual.
But it’s all just noise.
Life somehow goes on.
Food carts are brought out. People visit the altar. Several stop before me and say things I don’t hear or register. Several shake my hand, pat my back.
It isn’t until I hear an urgent “Veda!” that I begin to come to. The voice is low, so familiar, but it’s not Poppy’s or Nico’s.
I can barely see him through the tears in my eyes, but I make out his expression, the concern etched over his face. The light hair that’s concealed underneath a hat, his uncle by his side. “Let’s get out of here,” Dorian says, beckoning to me.