We should be so lucky.
Meanwhile, Nico and I are communicating without words. He raises an eyebrow, what I assume to mean Are you and Poppy ready for tonight?
I give a slight nod. Kind of. Are we ever?
He smiles softly, more concerned than pleased. But if you’d only let me help …
Yeah, right. Like you could. Like your father would allow you to be five feet from your front door tonight.
You’re right. I hate that you’re right …
Or something like that. We’ve had this conversation before, so it’s easy to fill in the blanks.
“Enough about all of that—I’ve got bigger news,” Arlen says, breaking into my and Nico’s silent conversation. “I’ve done it. I’ve joined!” He flashes a piece of paper and a badge in Nico’s face.
The surprise in Nico’s eyes quickly fades into an enthusiastic smile. I can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “Arlen, you chose the army! You’ll make an excellent soldier.”
“The best. First step, soldier. Next step, get chosen as heir. Then…”
“The world ends,” I mumble. They both hear. Arlen ignores me; Nico stifles a laugh. It’s been all the talk among Basso and Dogio alike. Who will the Imperi High Regent appoint as his heir? When will it happen? How? It’s unprecedented that a Bellonian Ruler doesn’t have family to pass his ruling duties along to. And knowing High Regent Raevald, it’ll be a grand spectacle when it does occur.
Dogio like Arlen are foaming at the mouth for the chance.
Basso are terrified someone like Arlen might be appointed.
Nico doesn’t talk about it.
“Regent-in-Training Rivera. You’ve got to admit”—Arlen pins the new soldier’s badge to his chest and then smacks it for good measure—“it’s got a nice ring to it.” He turns and faces Nico. “Now, to talk you into—”
“Veda—” Nico turns to me, so blatantly cutting Arlen off, it’d be comical if it wasn’t one of the only things we ever argue over. “That fish you caught today … Arlen, you’ve got to see it!”
I show Arlen the beast of a pantera, and he proceeds to tell me about the time his uncle caught one five times as big. It’s then I notice, aside from his new, shiny badge, he’s also had his hair cut. It’s much shorter than usual, no longer sticking out over his ears, and mimics the same fashion as the other Imperi soldiers, which makes sense. When he’s finished with his own fishing story, he checks his hourglass and hurries Nico away.
“Later, Veda!” Arlen calls over his shoulder. “Happy Ever-Sol!”
“We don’t…” But he’s already gone.
They disappear behind a copse of trees when, not a minute later, Nico comes bounding back, calling something to Arlen about how he’s right behind him.
I’m crouched over my basket, shoving the monster of a fish back in when Nico bends down next to me to help me close the flaps. He leans in, breath so close the warmth brushes my cheek, sending my stomach into yet another spin. “Tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Be careful tonight, Veda.”
“Always.”
“Promise me you won’t go out before the Sun again? Just not tonight, please?”
“I promise.” And I mean it this time.
He gazes into my eyes for a lingering second as if searching for the truth in my words, and when satisfied, he turns and leaves, disappearing a second time around the corner.
In his sudden absence, everything tumbles down around me. I can’t believe it’s been an entire year already. Last Night of Reckoning, the Night used fire as their weapon of choice, ravaging several villages. The time before, they swooped in like shadows, taking a record number of Basso from their homes, never to be seen again. No telling what this year will bring.
Imperi Regent Raevald explains that the Night want one thing more than anything: to create as much fear as possible. With fear comes power. But we aren’t to fight back.
Fighting back would incite all-out war.
And the Sun doesn’t want war.
Not yet anyway.
Maybe he will after tonight’s Dogio feast. Because if soul after soul vanishing doesn’t make an impression, a five-tiered chocolate cake and the words Blessed be the light surely will.
I gather my things, stand, and take all of three steps when I’m tapped on the shoulder. I turn to find Dorian holding his hand out.
“Your string.”
“Oh yeah. Thanks.” I reach out to take the ball of twine, and when I do, my bag slips off my shoulder, pulling the neck of my shirt to the side with it. When I lean forward to take the string, stuff it into my bag, Dorian’s eyes linger. Just below where my shirt tie has loosened, the material folds over, exposing my skin. More specifically, the jagged scar that stains that spot. I adjust my shirt to cover it back up, meet his stare. There’s no avoiding how blatant the moment is.
His eyes quickly dart away, then veer back to mine. “I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s fine. Old injury.” It’s not that low on my chest but is still a little uncomfortable to talk about.
He nods, now staring at the ground. His neck and ears have gone red. “Hey, thanks to you”—Dorian clears his throat—“my uncle and I will eat tonight.”
Our eyes meet again. “Well, that’s something.” I smile softly.
“You headed home?” Dorian motions toward the tunnel, pulling off his hat and running his hands through his hair, which is disheveled on one side and shaved on the other. Still, as much as he’s changed, I can see the little boy I remember from childhood and I can’t help wondering if he still pelts birds with rocks.
“I am…” I glance toward the darkness. “Well…” I begin walking. “See you around.” Bird bully. But maybe the name no longer suits him. I mean, I don’t jump in ponds wearing nothing but underclothes anymore.
“Do you mind if I walk with you?” Dorian shudders. “I hate that damn tunnel.” But he gazes my way, narrowing his eyes. “Unless you’d rather walk alone? I can’t imagine this tunnel worries you too much after the way you hooked that fish.” He raises an eyebrow. “Most grown men I know would have let the thing go, pole and all.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I can be a bit stubborn when it comes to fishing.” But the fish is impressive, I can’t deny it. “Normally, I’d brave the tunnel, but I walked most of it alone this morning. I think I’ve had my fill of adventure for the day.”
He laughs. “Right.” Lighting his lantern first, Dorian then glares toward the tunnel. “Shall we?” He glances over.
I nod and we enter.
The tunnel seems to go by faster on the way back, Nico and I always notice. We’ve decided it has something to do with heading closer to home instead of away from it. As if our feet move more quickly.
But it’s not the case this time.
The tunnel is a decent five-minute walk, and today I feel every second of it. I can’t remember the last time I walked it side by side with someone I didn’t know. Not to mention the kid who used to terrorize birds. And it’s too late to turn back.