that the Federation is going to invade soon. What good would it do for her to know about the Speaker’s betrayal, anyway? It will only give the Senate a reason to punish my mother if they find out that she knows too.
“They haven’t told me any more than they’ve given you,” I answer instead. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
She stares at the cold, damp stones of the floor. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”
The grief in her posture is the acknowledgment that, no matter how hard she had tried to keep us out of the Federation’s rule, we’re going to fall to them anyway. When we do, anything the Maran Speaker chooses to do with me will be nothing compared to what the Federation’s Premier will inflict on me.
“You have to hide, Ma,” I tell her now. “When they come. Do you hear me? At the first sign, make for the forests. Stay there for as long as you can.”
“While you stay and fight?” she scoffs aloud in Basean. “I’m not running again. It didn’t do much good the first time.” She pauses for a long moment. “What did you see in there?” she whispers.
I know what she’s trying to ask. What kind of fate is in store for us all?
“Darkness,” I tell her. “Disguised as light.”
She doesn’t answer. After a while, she says, “I hope you bury it in the back of your mind. Sometimes, it’s better to forget.”
I look her directly in the eyes. “I love you,” I sign.
My mother takes my hands in hers, then kisses my fingers. “I love you,” she signs in return.
The words are foreign in our house, as unnatural a part of our lives as it is a part of Basean culture. The rarity makes it carry that much more weight, though—I can feel it in the strength of her grip and linger of her stare.
“Don’t give up,” she says to me in the tongue of our homeland as the guards finally return to escort her out. “You haven’t lost yet.”
* * *
As the afternoon stretches on, I fall in and out of a light slumber. Rumors overheard from the guards outside my door tell me that the Firstblade is going to visit each of our cells before the night comes. Maybe it’s to tell us what our fates will be.
Finally, as the afternoon dims into evening, I hear a commotion in Jeran’s cell below me. I come out of my half sleep, then crane my neck so I can peer through my grating to see Jeran rise to his feet. He taps his fist to his chest and bows low at the figure that strides through his door. In the torchlight filtering into our cells, Aramin’s face is washed in hues of blue and gray.
He doesn’t waste any time. “The Speaker has ordered me to arrange for your execution,” he signs to Jeran. I squint, paying close attention to the silhouette of his hands moving.
Jeran doesn’t reply at first. He keeps his head bowed, waiting for Aramin to say more. When he doesn’t, Jeran seems to swallow and nod. “And what about Talin and Adena?” he asks aloud.
“They’ll receive the same sentence,” Aramin replies.
Jeran narrows his eyes. “What’s their crime?”
“Disobeying an order from the Senate and crossing enemy lines without authorization.”
“Aramin,” he says. It’s the first time I’ve heard him address the Firstblade by name since Aramin gained the position. “You know they don’t deserve their sentence.”
I can tell that Jeran’s words affect Aramin. He blinks, and suddenly, the energy between them seems to shift from a superior and a subordinate to two young soldiers, once ranked the same, once comrades in war.
“And why is that?” Aramin says tightly.
“When we became Strikers, we took an oath to protect this nation with our lives.”
“It was a direct order.”
“Sometimes you have to disobey an order to protect what you love.”
This is the closest I’ve ever heard Jeran speak against his Firstblade, and I can tell that Aramin feels the weight of it. He considers Jeran quietly. Finally, he says, “And what about you?”
Jeran hesitates.
At his silence, Aramin scowls. The black bones piercing his ears glint in the weakening light. “You’ve used all your strength and passion to vouch for someone else. What about you? Do you think you deserve your sentence?”
Jeran is silent for a long time before he finally answers. “No,” he replies. But he says it quietly, so quietly that I think even Aramin can barely hear him.