Snatched from their beds or from tunnels or while sneaking around after sunset, forced into illegal deeds to stay alive. Names … Photos … More and more Basso have gone missing. But is this truly worth it? My stomach grumbles in answer.Ī plump mud beetle will assure me at least one decent catch.Īs I keep to the edge of the woods, steering clear of any lamplight or main walkways, I can’t ignore the crudely posted signs. Can Poppy and I continue living on scraps if I don’t catch any fish today? The cellar is emptier than ever. If I’m caught by the Night, I die.Ī branch snaps in the distance and I skid to a stop, hiding behind a tree.
If I’m caught by an Imperi guard, I have no excuse. No one walks around after dark it’s too dangerous. No one gets lost on this island it’s too small. We’re either stealing or looking to steal. If we’re found near the Hill it can only mean one of two things in the eyes of the law. The side Basso folk like me aren’t supposed to wander. Not only am I out before the Sun, but I’m headed to the Hill, the Dogio side of the island. And right now, our hunger trumps stinkin’ finicky fish.
And who are they to be so picky? It’s a free meal after all. The worms do fine, but the fish are tired of them, fewer and fewer biting with each passing day. The one bait that trumps the worms I sell at the market. I’ve gotten used to that, ignoring discomfort, because there’s always something more important. My face stings with numbness, my nose already tingling, but I ignore it. Quickly, quietly, I make my way from shadow to shadow toward the woods. I gasp and then force an exhale that leaves gray clouds hovering on the other side of my lips. The icy hand of early morning slaps my face the instant I step outside. Instead, my sight settles on the altar, the slate pedestal to our right, the large sacred hourglass suspended above. But I can’t begin to pluck a single piece of him from the fray. To find the boy I thought I knew so well within the enemy. I strain my eyes to see past his exterior. “Veda…” My name cuts through the silence as a whisper in my ear. The Sun shines down, casting a fiery ring around us a spotlight illuminating the place where I lie and my executioner crouches over me, his boot at my jaw like a hunter with fresh-killed game.Ī newly hung banner flaps in the wind, the red words IN SUN’S NAME, THE IMPERI WILL PROTECT YOU FROM THE NIGHT distorting with each whipping gust. I can’t stand seeing him.Īs if on cue, the gray clouds break. Tears collect in my own, blurring his image. I know so much and so little of those eyes. At this moment it’s only me and one other-the Imperi officer who holds me with the intensity of his eyes. They lust for this, are entertained by it, feed on and frenzy over it.īut all of that is background noise. I spit it out and blood sprays the snowy ground.Ī child lets out a high-pitched “Off with her head!” Blood trickles thick from my nose down the back of my throat. Long strands of red-tinted hair stick to my forehead and hang over my eyes. I’m numb and frozen and burning all at once. Our audience: the blood-hungry citizens of Bellona. We’re positioned front and center, the main attraction: a girl and her executioner. The Coliseum is strong as always, but today, it’s suffocating, the unbreachable walls yards away yet closing in on us. And below each arch, the stands are crammed, stippled with faces like small dewdrops piled on grass. Each towering arch surrounding me is an ashen rainbow, cracks and all. This time, I’m the cause of all the commotion.ĭown here, the large stone arena orbits me, the traitor, mocking the Sun instead of honoring it. The Coliseum is taller, more menacing, than ever. Snow drifts down, sweeping me with cruel, frosted kisses.
His boot-now a vise with the ground-clamps my cheeks between the hard grate of its sole and the sharp, icy gravel beneath me. The snap echoes between the walls of my skull as white-hot pain shoots down my throat and into my ears, pushing water from my eyes.