I can’t believe it’s actually mine to make. This entire delayed proceeding—from the time they arrested me until today—has been nothing more than terrifying. How could I not believe I’d make it out alive? I saw no optimism. Only death, and forever wishing I could kiss Mama and Mattie goodbye.
Now I must tell Valyad I want to live, even if it’s in this stingy dungeon for the rest of my days. I’ll take it. I’m in no hurry to leave this world. Not yet.
I would write Mama and Mattie myself, in case Daphne hasn’t reached them, but I’m fresh out of paper. And the ink pen they left me has almost dried up.
Instead, I position the table so it’s directly underneath the opening in the wall, and then I count the stars. I remember the last time I really kept my gaze on them longer than a few seconds—the night before my appeal to Zarek. Malik and I sat under them together. He had said, Cheer up. It won’t be for long. And I believed him. But look where that got us.
Cold creeps across the room, slithering through my clothes and stroking my skin. It’s enough to make me tremble. This place dissolves the mind. And the people—it’s no doubt why they’re sick and crying and reaching out for help. Will I be like them in a few months?
Darkness rapidly covers the land, but that’s nothing new. I move to the bed and pull the scratchy wool blanket closer to my chin. Tomorrow I’ll be free. No second thoughts about my choice; I have to live.
Sleep doesn’t come quickly, though. Doesn’t matter how hard I try to relax and keep my eyes closed. Even as I nestle further under the covers, with the icy air licking my exposed skin, I can’t stop thinking about how different things could’ve been.
Then I slip into a place I’ve never seen before. Trees of every shape and color—gold, violet, pink, blue, round, petite, lean, lofty—encase me in a private area. The spicy air is so thick with moisture it’s like cinnamon on my tongue. Lavender and pink petals fall from above. There’s a pond not far away, with softly glowing flowers swimming on top.
Is this Heaven? I think.
“C’mon, Andy, what are you waiting for?” says Malik. He’s happy and energetic and just the way I remember him before we moved to Valyad. Children dance around him, giggling. Though I don’t recognize the young ones, something in me automatically knows they’re his.
“Where am I?” I ask, taking careful steps over to where he’s at.
“You’re in the Palace of Dreams. I told you about this place once. Do you remember?”
I do. It was the night before I left for Legora. He had written a poem, and it was beautiful. The words had captivated me, even then.
“Yes, but how did we get here? Am I dead?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I brought you.”
“How is that possible?”
He laughs, and it chimes like a choir of tiny bells. “Anything’s possible in this world, and in your sleep.”
“I don’t want to leave,” I say. “I want to stay here with you. Tell me that poem again.” The children dance around me now; their dresses swish with each new turn. Laced vines crown their heads.
“You can’t stay here,” he tells me.
Past the desert is a palace of dreams.
“Only reached in sleep,” I recite, as if it’s been in my mind all along.
Malik nods, indicating he wants me to continue.
“Beyond the sun-touched rise. Bury me there. Let no man take me elsewhere.”
I forget the rest.
“There’s one more, isn’t there?” I say.
“Yes, just one. You know this.” He skips with the children. “Come dance with us.”
But I’m too occupied with the last line. Why can’t I remember? How is it I can memorize everything else in that poem, but not this?
I look up. Malik and the children are on the other side of the pond, slurping an oozy liquid from tulips.
“Come try this, Andy!” he calls. But as soon as I step toward them, a giant snake coils out of the water; it’s at least twenty feet high. Its blackened slits watch me, then it transforms into Governor Hadi.
Everything around me turns grey, withers, and dies.
“Don’t you know dreams aren’t real?” he says.
I wake.
But I can still taste the cinnamon on my tongue.
54.
I lay there, contemplating my dream. It wasn’t a coincidence. Something deeper in this universe led me to Malik. Happy and dancing. Maybe even writing more poems. Is that where everyone goes when they die? How am I seeing it when I’m not dead?
Content thoughts are shattered when my cell door swings open.
“It seems the people can wait no longer,” Governor Hadi says, closing the door behind him. “They have decided your fate for you.”
“But they said—”
He rolls his eyes. “They grow impatient. And they’ve come to the same agreement—you are to be executed at dusk.”
I can barely say, “They gave me time.” My stomach is rolling in four different directions at once.
He lurches forward. “They gave you nothing, you stupid girl. Don’t you see? They sent you here to mock you. You never had the option of choosing your verdict. It was all in their hands.”
I’ve never felt so weak in my life. It’s as if they’ve killed me already.
“And I suppose that makes you King now,” I choke out.
“Well, somebody has to take over.” He laughs. Like this is all a joke. “I am next in line from a political standpoint. Zarek’s bloodline is nonexistent since he never produced an heir. That is the law.”
If Zarek could hear him now, he’d squash him. But Zarek’s not here. And I’ll be gone soon, too.
“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Hadi. I hope the universe takes care of you,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “You’re the only one who doesn’t deserve to live.”
“Well,” he says, raising his hands and then lowering them to his side, “not much I can say to that. I know it’s your rage talking. I’d be angry too if I was next in line to die and my best friend will die with me.”
“What do you mean by best friend?” I slowly stand up.
“Oh! It must’ve completely escaped my mind. Malik has been charged with attempted kidnapping.”
“What?” Then I grasp Malik wanted to get me out of here and take me with him. Back to Legora. “He’s not going to abduct me. Let him go.”
“Any person who whispers of taking the Queen away without her consent would be tried for treason.”
I leap at him. I don’t know what I’m doing. Not that it matters now.
“Get off of me!” he yells.
Flesh wounds are on his face and neck, where my fingernails were of some use. My fist hurts from punching his jaw. I hope it bruises. I hope he wakes unable to speak or open his eyes.
Guards pull me to the opposite corner. I continue to jump at him, but they’re too strong.
Daphne runs in the room. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Calm her down! Or I’ll take her outside and kill her myself,” Governor Hadi shrieks, patting the areas where blood seeps from open wounds.
“Oh, miss, what have ya done?” She wraps her arms around me, pulling my head to her chest.
Adrenaline has subsided and nausea returns. “I don’t know anymore, Daph. In some ways, I can’t wait for this to be over.” I raise my head to look at her. “Did you find my family?”
She nods. “Yes, miss. They’re ‘ere.”
I lower my voice. “And what about Kelin? Did you reach him?”
“He got the note, but I haven’t ‘eard back.”
Well, at least he knows. “I have to see my family.”
Daphne sniffles. “The governor won’t let ‘em in. Says they can see ya in a bit.”
“That old fool! This may be my only chance to say goodbye.”
She wipes fresh tears from her cheeks. “I know, miss. But ya done made a mess now.”
I lean against the wall for support. My stomach is definitely tw
isting and crawling now. “Do they know?”
This sends Daphne into a surge of crying. “Yes, miss. I hated ta tell ‘em. But I did it for ya. In case it was too late.”
I take her hand in mine and squeeze firmly. “Thank you. They needed to know.” Her weeping hasn’t ceased. “Don’t worry about me, Daph. I think I have an idea of where I might be going.” I begin to tell her about my dream, how Malik and the children danced around, as flower petals stuck to my curls, and how I could nearly devour the air. I leave out the part about Governor Hadi, not wanting to spoil the descriptions.
“Oh, miss,” she says. “I hope there is a Palace of Dreams.”
“I didn’t actually see a palace, but I’m sure there is one. Maybe it glitters like the stars. Or maybe it’s made of flowers.”
She giggles. “Or desserts.”
We both laugh.
“At least ya and Malik can be together,” she says. The jovial expression on her face shifts to a solemn one.
“Don’t be sad for me,” I say, rubbing her arm. “I’ll be in a happier place, one that’s ten times better than Valyad.”
“It shouldn’t be ya, miss. This shouldn’t happen ta ya.”
“Sssh.” I try to comfort her, but she continues to sob. “You’ll have to go soon. Before Governor Hadi accuses you of something like he did Malik. I can’t lose you both.”
“This is it? Goodbye forever?” she says.
Forever is such a long time. “How about goodbye for this lifetime? I’m certain we’ll be friends in the next.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything. We hug each other longer than I’ve ever hugged anyone. And then she leaves. The last time I’ll ever see her in this world.
Hours until my execution tick by in sluggish increments. I don’t think about anything except how much happier I’ll be. If only I could see Mama and Mattie and tell them about my dream. They’d understand.
But Mattie’s face breaks through all thoughts in my vision. How will I be able to tell him his big sister won’t be there when he has his first girlfriend? What about when he’s old enough for a job? And the bullies at school…
I tell myself not to tear up, not to let these thoughts enter my mind. But it’s hard not to think about the ones I love and how they’ll get by once I’m gone.
Someone clears their throat. It’s Hadi. “Time is short, I’m afraid,” he says, pointing to the non-existent watch on his wrist.
I gather my emotions and throw them over my shoulder, somewhere behind me.
“I’ll allow you a few moments with your family. From there you will be taken to the execution area, where you will be burned at the stake.”
I almost pass out. But I keep everything in check.
“Okay,” I respond, barely able to get the words out.
Governor Hadi takes the lead. We exit the main corridor and enter a major hallway. To my left are several rooms. Most have the doors standing open, but one has the door closed.
“In there,” he says, pointing to the bunged entrance.
Mama and Mattie sit at the table in the middle of the room. Mama’s face acknowledges me first, since Mattie’s back is situated toward me. What does she feel? Sadness? Anger? I can’t read her features.
“Come here, baby,” she says, standing and opening her arms.
“Andy!” Mattie screeches, almost falling out of his chair to get to me. He hugs my leg.
Mama latches on to me, quietly crying. Her tears and mine meet when our cheeks touch. “He doesn’t know yet,” she whispers in my ear.
So she hasn’t told him.
I rub the salty water off my cheeks and kneel down to his level. “I don’t have much time.”
“Time before what, Andy?” His big eyes stare into mine.
“I’ve been accused of something bad and I have to pay the consequences.” I can’t hold back the tears. They’re coming now. Straight down my cheeks. He lifts a tiny finger and brushes one away.
“Don’t cry,” he says.
“I’m going to miss you, bud. You take care of Mama, okay? Make sure she has everything she needs. And no matter what, know that I’ll always watch over you. If you ever get sad or lonely, just talk to me and I’ll listen.”
Mama is bent over, unable to control her emotions.
I hug Mattie.
“Time’s up!” Governor Hadi calls as he enters the room. Guards grab hold of my arms.
“Wait!” Mama yells. “Please, wait!” She’s almost running after us now.
I look back at her. “Get out of here. You have to leave now!”
“I just want to hug my daughter. Please!” She’s wailing. “Andy, appeal to them. They might let you live.” The guards tote me outside, lined up parallel to each other all the way to the platform. Crowd control, I guess.
Reaching between two sentries, I take her hand in mine. “Go, Mama. This will change everything. You have to trust me.”
Mattie’s face pops in and out between the guards’ legs; it’s a sloppy, wet mess. He says something over and over again, yet I can’t understand a word over the chanting, angry mob. This is one time that he speaks, and I don’t want to hear anything coming from his mouth. It’s better that way.
Malik is dragged from a side entrance to the platform.
The executioner yanks us up the steps. I steal a glance back at Mama, but she’s already on her knees, face buried in the sand. Xara appears at Mama’s side, shrieking and chanting in a language I don’t understand.
The crowd roars, like those angry insects that kept me awake at night. With me facing them, I’m bound by thick rope. My hands are tied around the pole. Malik is on the opposite side, his tied hands touching my low back. We have to stand through this, fully aware that our lower bodies will dissolve first.
“We have to be fierce,” I say, angling my head so Malik can hear me.
His hands can’t reach mine, obviously, but he grips my arm, and I his.
In the infinite expanse past the walls, the sun begins to set, casting an orange and red glow against low clouds. The land is coated with armed men waiting to strike; their horses dance—excited, trembling with energy.
One man. That’s all it’ll take to signal the downfall of Valyad.
One man. That’s all it takes to light the wood forted against the stage.
Flames pick up gust, jumping from branch to branch.
The heat—it’s unbearable. I cough and spit out the smoke; my mouth tastes like I’ve swallowed a bucket of ash. My vision is like a drunken man. I can hear the crowd’s mocking, their vile words surging like a volcano’s lava. Spit after spit they cast at me, showing their hatred.
Air is suctioned from my lungs.
The ropes won’t budge, and my legs jerk as a reflex each time the blaze strokes them.
My skin ignites, burning away flesh. The odor is vile; I almost gag.
Screaming crosses my mind, but all my energy is focused on gasping for clean air. I’m determined not to give the crowd a show.
Smoke burns my eyes.
The fire is halfway up my body now.
Eating me from the outside in.
Devouring my body in steady gulps.
Kelin and his armies storm the castle. Over the walls, through the main gate. People scatter. I can’t see Hadi’s face, but I envision it’s full of surprise.
“Malik, Kelin and his armies are here,” I cry. “To save Valyad.” It seems the smoke has left my throat utterly dried up.
“Andy…” he breathes, and a croaky moan follows. The fire has reached him, too.
Even now, I sense the Palace of Dreams.
Think, Andy. Think of the last sentence.
I see it when I close my eyes.
“I see it,” I whisper, tasting the cinnamon again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rebecca Rogers expressed her creative side at an early age and hasn’t stopped since. She won’t hesitate to tell you that she lives inside her imagination, and it’s better than realit
y.
Table of Contents
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Under the Stars Page 21