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Back Into the Dying Light Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. BEFORE
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. BEFORE
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. BEFORE
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. BEFORE
  25. II
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. III
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. IV
  52. 42
  53. 43
  54. 44
  55. 45
  56. 46
  57. 47
  58. 48
  59. 49
  60. 50
  61. 51
  62. 52
  63. 53
  64. 54
  65. 55
  66. 56
  67. 57
  68. 58
  69. AFTER
  70. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  71. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  72. Newsletter Sign-up

“All right,” she said, softly, and laid her head against his shoulder as the voices of the others washed over her.

44

JUDE

Jude didn’t ask where they were going. He didn’t hesitate as Anton led him through the darkened halls of the Library. It was so simple in that moment—where Anton went, Jude followed.

They climbed up the stairs and out into a broad courtyard garden crisscrossed with streams of water, over a small footbridge to an enclosed pavilion.

Jude slowed as Anton nudged open the door of the pavilion. The interior was canopied with gauzy fabric, billowing inward and giving the impression that they were standing in a tent rather than a room. A bed was nestled in one corner, piled high with pillows and draped with soft sheets.

But what drew Jude’s gaze was the low table on the other side of the room, where one candle burned and another sat untouched. A goblet of wine sat between the candles, along with a wide, damascened silver bowl filled with chrism oil, and two crowns of laurel. Laid out before the table was a small rose-colored rug.

“Anton,” Jude started, and then didn’t know how to continue. He looked carefully at Anton and then back at the table, a sudden joy quickening his heart, elusive as light moving through water.

“You did this?” he asked at last.

“I arranged for it,” Anton replied.

“I don’t—” He didn’t know how to ask. He knew what this was. What it must be. But he needed to be sure. “Is this—?”

Anton nodded quickly, looking suddenly a little shy.

“And these?” Jude asked unsurely, touching one of the laurel wreaths.

“Well,” Anton said, “the Novogardians do marriage a little differently.”

“The Order doesn’t do marriage at all,” Jude reminded him gently. “Anton—”

“It’s just…” Anton began haltingly, his eyes trained on the table instead of Jude. “We’ve been bound together from the start. From—from the day I saw your ship arrive in Pallas Athos. Before then, even. And neither of us had a choice, to begin with, and then we did and we—we kept choosing each other. Right?”

Only now did he lift his gaze. Jude nodded slowly, silent, sensing that Anton wasn’t done.

“So I thought … what if we could be bound together in a different way.” He stepped toward Jude. “A way we get to choose.”

Jude looked at him, limned in soft candlelight, so like the first night he’d met him. He had knocked the breath out of him then, too, with his easy smiles and dirty jokes. And Jude hadn’t even known yet, everything that was contained in this infuriating, sweet, impossible boy.

He took a breath and steeled himself. He needed to be sure.