Defy the Sun (Beware the Night #2) - Jessika Fleck Page 0,60

fire, that I notice the tea service that’s been left for me.

I’m not hungry. In fact, I’m not sure I could eat a crumb of anything.

As quickly as I discount it do I spot it.

A blueberry muffin accompanying my tea.

A blueberry muffin only one person could have baked.

Bronwyn.

Dorian said she’d be the go-between. That I’d know when she contacted me.

Not a moment to waste, I break the muffin open and inside, folded up into a small square of paper, is a letter from Veda. I glance at the door. Stop and listen for footsteps.

All is silent.

I quickly unfold the letter, sit next to the fire.

The letter will soon be ash.

And Bronwyn is somewhere inside this palace, playing cook or baker or Sun knows who.

This realization both comforts and unnerves me. I’m doing a lot I’m not proud of right now, even though it’s in the name of the greater good. Of keeping up the act. Of advancing forward so that at some point I will have the power and influence to change things. That it’s a long, risky game, and I pray it’s all worth it. Even though I know Veda must know all of this … Doesn’t make any of it less unnerving.

I read the letter at least five times. I scrutinize it. Imagine Veda leaning over the paper writing it, blowing those stray hairs that fall onto her forehead out of her eyes, deciding what words to use, whether to be proper or familiar. I come to the conclusion she chose an odd combination of both, which leaves a lingering smile upon my lips.

Mostly, she’s alive and well.

Thank the Sun and moon both, she’s alive and well.

I’d hoped it based on poor Officer Givanni’s account, the manhunt that came up empty, the freshly posted wanted flyers.

But now … now I know without doubt.

It was Veda I saw dressed as a Basso prisoner just outside the palace the day I returned. We were so close … Yards away … Oh, to have been able to see her face to face. Brush her hand. Look into her eyes.

But it’s a good thing I wasn’t the wiser because I’m not sure I could have kept my composure.

I allow myself to breathe the first sigh of relief I’ve allowed in days. I sink into the plush chair, soak in the warmth from the fire.

Veda is alive and back in the Lower.

The Lunalette.

I read her letter once more before I burn it in the hearth.

I’m already thinking of a response.

But it will have to wait.

* * *

IT’S NEARING MIDDAY, yet the afternoon has somehow darkened in the short time between naming James as the sacrifice and now. Or perhaps it’s the Island of Sol itself that’s so dark.

Death looms over this Coliseum like a black stain, the sea surrounding it only helping the darkness spread.

It would seem the evil has finally reached our island. A disease set to spread, and I fear we won’t be discovering a cure anytime soon.

Yet I’m surrounded by celebration, the usual pomp and circumstance that accompanies the Offerings. Raevald was clear he wanted everything to carry on as usual. That we won’t let the war dictate how we observe our most sacred of ceremonies.

But the juxtaposition—the forcefulness of the one attempting to cover up the other—is dizzying.

I stand next to, but slightly behind, Raevald in his Coliseum balcony. We’re to wave every now and then, greet Bellonians while perched on high as they enter the arena.

And I notice that even when he sits, the High Regent will continue to tower above all. Raevald’s chair is raised a good six inches over mine. Poor Salazar sits even farther back, just at the red curtain, mostly out of view.

It’s not long until the Sun is perfectly high in the sky above the Coliseum. Its midday position marks the start of the Offering.

Raevald stands, and with some unseen, unspoken force, the crowd instantly quiets. He lifts the golden speaking trumpet to his mouth. “Welcome, Bellonians. Dogio—” He raises his hands toward the paid section where only Dogio sit. “Basso—” He does the same for the Basso side of the Coliseum. “It’s been far too long since we last met here, in this sacred arena, where the Sun can shine down on all of us. One people. Joined in one desire: victory over the Night!” The arena erupts in enthusiastic hollers and applause. “How dare they attack us in this ancient structure where ceremony meets fate? How dare they invade our land,