The Ruby Moon (6 page)

Avery called after him, “Tuck, I need your support!”

But he didn’t look back.

Avery spent the day running in the private stairwell and stretching in the hall the kids used for midnight court. She envisioned herself at the starting line in the Olympiad, and her heart beat like a horse thundering down a track. This would be the biggest risk she had ever taken.

Losing was not an option.

Ilsa appeared. “Come with me. There’s something you need to see,” she said. Avery knew better than to go, but she didn’t have a reason to refuse. They made their way near the sewing room to a chamber in which Avery had never been.

Ilsa pulled the curtain back from a large window that overlooked part of the castle grounds, and revealed a group of men building a wood stage with a tall frame and metal fittings. Avery heard the hammering like the beating of a drum and the hiss of flame against metal. A noose had been fastened at the end of a thick rope tied to the crossbeam.

“Anyone who doesn’t represent the kingdom well in the Olympiad,” Ilsa said, “or anyone who brings shame on the king, gets a personal tour of these gallows.” She let the curtain fall back into place and chirped, “Best of luck.”

As Ilsa turned to leave, Avery said, “Why do you hate me? Have I done something so bad we can’t work things out?”

Ilsa turned and held her gaze, and Avery couldn’t discern her look.
Sadness? Fear? Loneliness?

Sometimes the meanest people are hurting the most.

Their eyes locked, and Avery remembered what her mother had always quoted from the Bible.
“Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.”

“You win,” Avery said, and she moved past Ilsa and into the stairwell.

With only hours until the race, she couldn’t dwell on losing.

Too much was at stake.

On what she knew could be the last morning of her life, Avery rose before dawn and ate in silence. If she did die today, her greatest regret would be not seeing her family one last time.

She returned to the bunkroom where Kate presented her with a pair of dark trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of boots.

“Don’t roll up your sleeves,” Kate said solemnly, “or the star on your wrist will show. Bounty hunters will be watching for it.”

Avery felt strange replacing her heavy dress and glittering slippers, but of course she would slip out of the boots and run the race barefoot—the way she liked to run at home.

Kate had disappeared while she was changing, but stepping into the hall, Avery ran into Tuck—pacing, hands clasped behind his back, worry etching his face.

“What do you think?” Avery asked, offering an exaggerated curtsy.

He was clearly not amused. “I think I may never see you again.”

Avery sighed. “You don’t need to remind me you’re against this. It’s too late to change my mind.”

“It’s
not
too late,” he whispered, pleading with his eyes. “But you do have my support, and you always will.” He stepped closer. “Promise me you’ll win. You’ve got to!”

Alarmed by the terror in his eyes, Avery couldn’t stay mad at him. All traces of his trademark confidence were gone.

“Of course,” she said, feigning her best smile. She was relieved to see Kate approaching, so she could escape this awkward exchange.

As she turned to leave, Tuck said, “You were born to lead. Go be a leader.”

Back in the bunkroom, Avery sat on a stool while Kate worked silently, straightening Avery’s hair—pinning each lock so it appeared short rather than long and unruly. Kate used more force each time she pressed a pin against Avery’s head, making her wince.

“Is everything all right?” Avery finally asked, turning to face her. “My scalp would like to make peace.”

Kate stopped and pressed her lips together. Finally she said, “Anything could happen today. The king won’t accept second place.”

“You, too? Nobody thinks I can win. But I
will.
”

Kate sighed. “I’ve always admired your confidence, but there’s a fine line between conviction and stupidity. You never should have agreed to run.”

She added more pins to Avery’s hair, more gently now.

“The king can’t know you’re thirteen, or even that you’re a girl,” Kate continued, her voice cracking. “We can’t help you if something happens. You’re on your
own.
”

Tears filled Avery’s eyes as she realized how much her friends cared. Not that long ago they were strangers trying to figure out why they had been captured and hauled to the castle. Now they were family.

Avery turned to face Kate. “I
won’t
lose,” she said. “I can’t. I’m running for you, for all of us, for our brothers and sisters—for an audience with the king. I’m running to get us out of here.”

Kate’s smile did not reach her eyes. “I know you are, and I love you for it, but you need to run for
you.
I want you back here tonight, safe and sound.” She reached for a stray strand of hair, but Avery caught her hand and held it.

“You’re my friend, Kate. Please, let’s talk about something else—something happier.” She ran her thumb over the ruby ring that had become a fixture on Kate’s finger. “Tell me about this. It’s beautiful.”

“It belonged to my grandmother. It’s a locket.” Kate slipped it off, opened it, and showed Avery the tiny piece of rolled parchment inside. “She wrote me this message, but I’ll never show anyone what it says.”

As Kate replaced the message and clamped the ring closed, Avery wondered if her own ruby flower necklace had also been a locket. And if so, did it have a message inside? How she wished she could hold it one more time, especially today.

In a final effort to make Avery look as much like a boy as possible, Kate affixed a light cap to her head and pulled it low over her brow. She tucked the final stray strands of Avery’s hair underneath and pinned the cap in place.

“Don’t let anyone talk you into running without the cap.”

Avery stood and pulled Kate into a hug, whispering, “I
won’t
lose.”

The springlike day smelled of musk and citrus with a tang of salt also heavy in the air.

Avery was as excited as she was scared as she surveyed the tents and made her way through the festivities.

The Olympiad was like nothing she had ever witnessed.

One persistent merchant sang loudly and off-key as he sold marzipan cakes to enthusiastic children. Another tilted his head back and spouted a flame from his mouth to rousing applause from a spellbound audience. A third hawked tickets to see his menagerie of exotic animals—rumored to be saber-toothed tigers and pure white lions—caged behind the castle. Every once in a while a random roar sent an unsuspecting Olympiad observer running.

A fourth, slightly subtler salesman caught Avery’s eye. He peddled the ability to leave the past behind.

For a few copper coins, the handsome young huckster asked what guilt a person carried and wrote it on a tiny piece of parchment. He then attached the parchment to a small paper lantern, set it afire, and released it into the atmosphere, supposedly carrying the guilt of the deed with it.

“You’ll never lose a wink of sleep again!” he’d say, his eyes twinkling.

Clever,
Avery decided, because he now knew the deepest secrets of the townspeople and could make a few more coins via blackmail or by selling the secrets to the man who printed the daily bulletin.

In search of something to eat, Avery entered a crowded tent and through the din heard a voice bright and familiar as any she knew. “Is that apple sausage?” a young boy asked.

She whirled to see him at a distance from behind, but Avery recognized immediately the little brother she had left in the woods.
Henry.
He was a little taller and a tad leaner, but his light brown hair and pudgy hands were a giveaway.

She moved quickly—knocking into people, determined not to take her eyes off of him. He stood with a woman Avery didn’t recognize but to her relief looked refined and kind. The woman stopped to talk to someone, and Avery dropped to her knees behind the child.

“Henry,” she whispered and, with a hand on each shoulder, spun him around.

He had a sweet face, a button nose, and an easy smile.

But he was not Henry.

“Sorry,” she said, struggling to her feet and feeling herself flush from her neck to her hairline as pinpricks filled her head and clouded her vision. The boy stepped back, and the woman glared at her and drew him close.

“So sorry,” Avery said, “I was mistaken.” And she quickly moved into the crowd again. She dared not attract too much attention, a girl, after all, in boys’ clothing.

Her heart aching, she slipped into the first tent she saw, anxious for a distraction.

The large tent was dominated by a gigantic chandelier and a huge table surrounded by velvet-covered chairs. Well-dressed men and women scurried about, carrying platters of food and drink to several other tables, each graced by elaborate candelabras at either end, at least a dozen candles glowing in every one. Avery couldn’t help but covet a tenth of the excess lighting for herself and her peers.

Guards stood sentinel near the entrances.

And she suddenly understood.

This is the king’s tent.

His Majesty was, no doubt, observing any of the vast number of tournaments happening simultaneously throughout the castle grounds. She wondered if this would be where she might finally encounter him if she won the race.

“You must be a runner!” a buoyant voice said from behind her. “Not enough meat on those bones to be a boxer!”

Avery turned to nod and recognized one of the king’s advisers she had seen from observing the royal study through the kitchen floor. He laughed as if he had just told the funniest joke ever.

Avery pulled her cap a little lower.

“Cheer up, boy!” the adviser said, clapping her on the back. “It’ll be over before you know it. Half a dozen races will be run on that track today. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. Win and you’ll be given a greater reward than you could possibly dream of in that little head of yours.” He poked her in the temple, and she winced. “Our king loves a winner!”

He laughed and moved on, grabbing a chicken drumstick off a servant’s platter and tossing it to Avery. She caught it and nodded a thank-you before biting into it.

In truth, Avery had been thinking of little other than the opportunity to talk to the king. Because the race time was near, she limited herself to the one chicken leg and went in search of the stadium. She couldn’t be late.

After a long walk through teeming crowds, Avery crested a hill and came face-to-face with the arena built for the Olympiad. Its magnitude and majesty stunned her.

She trembled and her knees went weak.

A grand oval building of marble rose before her, boasting three levels of stands supported by massive round pillars and covered by silk awnings to protect spectators from the sun.

Her legs froze, and she considered running the opposite direction.

But then she pictured the faces of those she loved and she pressed forward.

As she entered the arena, her stomach tightened with each step.

She half expected the track to be paved in gold, but just like the king, the exterior of this stadium was much more impressive than the interior. She soon realized her race would take place on little more than an enormous rectangle of cleared ground.

As the twelve competitors began gathering, the crowd roared.

The sea of faces made Avery wish she was oblivious to how many people were watching. Only when someone called for the runners to take their places did Avery assess her competition for the first time.

None looked like eager recruits.

She would run against a crop of lanky boys who, no doubt, felt the pressure to impress their own masters.

One—tall and gangly with a shaved head—looked more uncomfortable than the rest. He bit his lower lip and shook.

He looked familiar, and she briefly caught his eye, but Avery couldn’t place him.