Defy the Sun (Beware the Night #2) - Jessika Fleck Page 0,62
he wanted.
Four stories below and across the arena, standing tall, donning the ceremonial white tunic, golden Imperi Sun blazing over his heart, is James Reed. A child mere months ago. Then a soldier. Now, the Offered.
I don’t blink as the soldiers slash his palms, bloody the altar in a sign of his sacrifice.
I don’t dare search the crowd for his family, see if his parents, whom we’ve had over for dinner, for the Ever-Sol Feast, are cheering him on or weeping uncontrollably.
And even as my throat tightens, I refuse to so much as flinch when he’s walked to the raft … As he doesn’t hesitate once to step on board … And again, when he bravely stares ahead at the Great Sea …
It’s where he’ll die.
Where, after a day of drifting, this time tomorrow, under the midday Sun, the intricately crafted raft will give way. James Reed, my former Dogio mentee, will offer his life for his god and his people.
For the greater good.
And a piece of me will die alongside him.
For the greater good. The thought of James on that raft all alone … Surrounded by nothing but endless sea … No one left for him to be brave for … Terrified as I would be …
The image pushes a suffocating weight down over me I’m worried I’ll never shake.
And part of me hopes I never do.
I’ll need to remember this moment to keep from falling in too deep. I will not become the heir Raevald hopes I will.
I’ll remember this moment to ensure I become the opposite.
For the greater good.
I snap out of my daze when I realize my hands are coming together in applause, that the entire Coliseum is alight with joy and hope over the day’s Offering. That, blessed be the light, all will be well.
Before Raevald leaves he leans into my ear. Breath warm, spiced of brandy, he says, “Well done, Denali.” He pulls back to make eye contact. “You continue to impress me … Don’t mess up.” He stands, stabbing me with a look that clearly promises several levels of hell should I mess up.
Flanked by his personal guards, Raevald disappears behind the curtain. Salazar says something about leaving together, but I explain that I’d like to stay and observe the festivities that are already underway below on the arena floor. He eyes me suspiciously but leaves saying he’ll return in one hour to escort me back to Imperi Palace.
In reality I’m not watching the festivities. Any celebration in this moment is wrong.
Instead, I watch James float out to sea. He’s still, but his head is facing the island. His people. The life he once had.
Tomorrow he will die.
I continue watching James until he’s no longer visible, a tiny blip along the horizon I’m not sure is James at all or a trick of the light.
Then I stand and walk around the curtain, marching down the empty hall and around a corner to the nearest wastebasket. It’s there, bent over the metal can, that I’m the sickest I’ve ever been in my life.
* * *
AS PROMISED, Salazar escorts me back to the palace. I’m in a complete daze, the undead walking among the living as if I’m one of them.
I glance toward Salazar, who’s already staring my way. Does he sense my dismay? My doubt? The hot, bubbling sick aching to come back up once again?
I swallow back the disgust, shove the horror of an image I’ll never forget of James set adrift from my head. Then I force a sort of smile, hoping he won’t ask me about my trouble.
We’ve always moved in the same Dogio and Imperi circles, Salazar and I, but never really engaged one on one. I do see why Raevald trusts him, why he’d keep him near.
He’s also as sarcastic as he is confident and loyal. It works for him, though. I can’t help wondering if he gets away with murder when it comes to banter with the High Regent. I bet.
Bless him, he stays quiet the walk back to the palace and once we get to my room, he helps me remove my cold-weather clothes—coat, gloves, scarf. He hangs or folds everything in perfect order, brushing any lint away.
“It’ll get easier,” he says, finally breaking the silence as he sits in the chair next to my civilian boots and runs a polishing cloth in small circles over one of the toes. “I mean, it has to, right?”