Defy the Sun (Beware the Night #2) - Jessika Fleck Page 0,53
the rest.
“That’s an understatement,” he says, casually lying back onto the floor, arms folded underneath his head.
The tea is so quick to do its magic and instantly washes over my nerves. Body leaden, the moonroot allowing me to physically and mentally let go of the past two weeks, I melt onto the wool mat right next to Dorian. Shifting to my side, using the crook of my elbow for a pillow, I face him.
He does the same, so our noses are a mere six inches or so apart.
Again, he pushes my short hair out of my eyes. “I like it,” he says.
“I didn’t cut it for you.”
He chuckles lightly, and his breath is sweet—all moonroot and honey—when it brushes my face. Too quickly, though, seriousness takes over his expression. “Hey, V?”
“Yeah?” My eyes are so heavy but I really, really want to hear what he’s going to ask me.
“I’m sorry about Nico, about shooting him.” I try to nod but am pretty sure only my eyebrows are moving. “I tried to do right by him, though, to mitigate things. He’s not all bad and, well, we have something pretty important linking us—” His sentence is clipped off with a hard swallow that makes my eyes snap open.
I know he’s referring to me, but I don’t dare acknowledge it for fear it’ll open a whole trove of emotions between us. “I’m not angry with you, Dorian,” I say simply, lifting my arm, patting him on the side, the place where his stomach dips into his hips. “I might have been … before.” I shake my head lazily. “But not now. Not after how things have changed.” I sigh deeply, nearly drifting off. “Stay here with me? Just for tonight?”
“I…”
“Please? I’ve been alone in a cell for two weeks; I can’t bear another night of it.”
“Of course.” He runs his thumb in that place between my eyebrows, urging my already half-open eyes closed. “Go to sleep, V,” he whispers light as a breeze.
“It’s a…,” I speak through a deep yawn. “… it’s a different world now.”
“Shh…” is the last sound I register, followed by a light blanket being spread over me. I’m also coherent enough to note how pleasantly beautiful it is that the warmth of Dorian’s body remains close by.
* * *
HUNCHED UNDER A quickly dimming lantern, I squint to see through the shadows and haze, furiously putting ink to paper. I’m not sure what made me bolt out of a deep, moonroot-infused sleep and crawl over to the stump in the middle of the night. Yet here I am.
My Dearest Nico,
I miss you more than—
No.
I crumple up the paper. Toss it on the ground. Such idiotic words from the Lunalette of the Night writing to the Heir of all Bellona. Now is not the time to dredge up old feelings. Now is not the time for casual banter. For swooning over long-lost love. It’s a time for action. For a plan. For …
I raise my finger toward Dorian, to let him know I’ve got the perfect words. He’s fast asleep. Snoring.
It’s fine. I don’t need his approval.
Heir Denali,
I am writing to you as Lunalette, Warrior of the Night—
Moon no.
Come on, Veda. It’s Nico. Your Nico.
But things have definitely changed.
Though, Warrior of the Night?
Stupid moonroot.
I dip my pen in the ink, leave a trail of black teardrops along the top of the paper.
Dear Nico,
I saw you the other day—did you see me? You were so strong, so confident as you marched up to the palace. Oh how I wish I could have run into your arms. Alas, I was sneaking out of the prison and, as you’ll recall if you did recognize me, in disguise.
Not a good disguise, mind you. But the best we could come up with in very little time and next to no resources. We were nearly caught, but the escape was a success. I’m now safe and sound in the Lower, but inexplicably sad because, somehow, our paths didn’t cross.
I hope you’re well. I miss you dearly and wish this wasn’t the only way for me to contact you.
But here we are.
As for me, I returned to less than ideal conditions. I’m both horrified and hopeful that before too long, you and I will be inheriting this war. And it will be up to us to either continue the fighting or come up with a better solution.