32. Sawyer
SAWYER
Liberty hides in the trees while I go back for Persephone.
It’s fifteen minutes exactly before the horn blares to signal for a ceremony. I don’t even want to know what the ceremony could be or what Luna is doing to prolong it. Two out of three I’ve seen here have involved death.
I’ve pretty much had it with this fucking place and their ceremonies.
And yet, as I climb the trellis to Luna’s bedroom, I’m struck with a shuddering sense of deja vu, and for a moment—just a moment—the past catches up to me. I hesitate, one hand gripping tight, the other hovering over a vine.
Wasted time:
On the trudging walk to the Keep.
On the overanalytical sweep of the trellis.
And now, halfway up the climb.
“Move,” I command under my breath before grabbing a handful of wood and pulling myself higher.
And higher. And higher. Until I’m climbing through the window to Luna’s room to find Persephone sitting on the bed.
Caramel shins peek from a frilly white dress as she taps her heels against the bed, long black curls bouncing with the movement.
A red flower frames her ear, but otherwise, there isn’t a drop of color to signify anything but purity—and suddenly the hierarchical coloring is the cruelest thing about this place. Everything you are, summed up in the hue of cloth. The size of your heart, determined by the shade of your skin.
My muscles go rigid as I carefully plant my feet on the floor and shut the window, eyes flicking between Persephone and the door. I wait for her to scream for a Keeper, but her jittery legs never pause with panic.
Without thinking, I search the room for signs of a trap. As if Luna has set me up once again. It explains the deja vu, but it doesn’t explain Persephone. “Hi…”
“Hello, Mr. Hansley,” she squeaks. “How are you today?”
She asks the strange man climbing through a window. Again, I glance around, going so far as to peek beneath the bed.
“I’m…”
Nothing, not even cobwebs or dust. What did I think would be there?
I stand up straight and try to hold Persephone’s gaze. “I’m doing well… How are you?”
Jesus Christ, I sound like I have a gun to my back.
“Well.” She gives a slight bow while still sitting. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
“Uh huh.”
The chloroform. I’m supposed to get the chloroform.
“Is uh… Is Luna around?” I ask, though Persephone doesn’t seem to need an explanation for my presence. “I thought she’d be here.”
It’s less than a second before it becomes clear I said the wrong thing. There’s a whip of tension as Persephone’s eyes narrow. Her head tilts.
“Opponents are required to be at their stations a minimum of an hour before the ceremony… The Head Keeper must prepare, for the sake of her people.”
I blink slowly. Persephone’s face looks just as serious.
Opponents. Stations. Luna must prepare.
It's a riddle that isn’t hard to solve, but I find my mind slogging anyway. The scent of gunpowder fills my nose at the memory of clay shattering beneath Luna’s boot. I’d hardly cared what it meant. I didn’t even ask.
“I’ll try to prolong the ceremony as much as I can,” Luna chimes in my head.
I didn’t even fucking ask.
“What happens if Luna loses the fight?” I croak, though I know. I know. My hand drifts to my stomach as it cramps, face prickling with blood loss.
I try to remember the guy—Alaric—better, but all I really see is Luna’s busted face. The hitch in her step.
Persephone’s eyes narrow even further. “If Head Keeper dies, Thorne will be in charge of protecting the Shadow Sanctum… I would never speak ill of Thorne, but…” She looks at the floor and doesn’t go on. I don’t care. I don’t want her to.
I close my eyes and try to breathe. Wasting even more time.
“She wanted me to give you this.” My eyes open as Persephone digs through the pocket of her jacket to retrieve a… gold ring with an emerald stone. Unmistakably: Dickie’s ring. Luna’s ring.
No.
Persephone stands and brings it to me, her eyes downcast as she hands it over.
I take it while my throat grows so thick I think I’ll choke.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hansley.”
Persephone wrings her hands, truly remorseful. Truly innocent. Truly needing the fuck out of here.
“I’ll try to prolong the ceremony as much as I can, but you need to be efficient in getting to the forest.”
“You think she’ll lose?” I ask. As if I’m not holding Luna’s goodbye.
Persephone’s wide eyes snap to me. “What? No. I…” She lowers her head.
“She shouldn’t have to fight. I know this is my fault and that Her Grace hates me.
” Her voice cracks as the tears come. “I thought the paper I found was yours. I didn’t know what it was, I just…
I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble.”
Persephone wipes away a tear while I try to snap myself into action.
If I fail, she dies for nothing.
“It’s all right.” I put a hand on Persephone’s shoulder and steer her toward the door. “None of this is your fault. And Luna isn’t angry with you.”
I slide the ring onto my pinky and gesture toward the exit. “She wanted me to show you something before the ceremony… We should hurry.”
In the library, I trace a finger along the bookcase, searching for a rise in the wood or the smooth catch of metal.
What I find instead is a groove. Round in the center, sharper arches on the side.
When I hook my finger inside, nothing happens.
It’s not a button—Luna is too private for that. It’s a lock.
“Luna’s never shown you this, has she?”
“No, sir,” Persephone’s quick to say.
My eyes dance around the bookshelf as I try to recall the first and only time she showed me this hidden door. I don’t remember her having a key, but the tunnel inside is for emergencies. If Luna is like me, she keeps it close by.
It takes a minute of tossing books at our feet before it occurs to me.
Luna and I are a lot alike.
But there isn’t a soul more clever.
The ring on my pinky seems to grow in size, its weight tugging my eyes to the metal. I insert the emerald into the groove and twist until I hear the lock click, a bittersweet smile tilting my lips.