The Ruby Moon (7 page)

Like the rest, he didn’t look happy.

A few peeled off their shirts and tossed them aside. Avery’s shirt and cap would draw additional attention she didn’t need. But so would winning. She shed only her boots and socks.

“To your marks!” a man called. Avery wriggled her way to the center. “Eight laps,” he continued, “one half mile,” pacing before them and droning a list of rules.

Avery whispered a prayer and waited. And the boy she thought she recognized wiped his brow, exposing a wrist crisscrossed with scars.

Thomas.
The shaggy hair had been shaved to the scalp, but it was him.

At a trumpet blast, the runners exploded. For the first lap they ran shoulder to shoulder, but soon Avery and three others separated themselves from the rest. Thomas’s long, loping stride appeared effortless and gave him a comfortable lead near the end of lap two.

Avery’s throat tightened as she realized Thomas would be difficult—if not impossible—to catch. She thought of her parents and her brother, and though adrenaline surged through her, by lap three Thomas had put even more distance between them.

The shouts of the crowd thundered in her ears.

By lap four Avery heard nothing behind her—no panting, no footfalls. And Thomas was either far enough ahead that she could not hear his shoes hitting the track, or perhaps his gait really was as smooth as it looked. By now he and she were clearly the only runners with any chance of winning.

He seemed to be enjoying a jog in the park.

Avery pushed herself harder than ever. This was so far beyond her training that she realized that had been like child’s play. By lap five, just past a quarter mile with that much more yet to go, everything in her screamed to stop. Her every breath burned and her legs felt like lead.

Tears clouded her vision, and she wondered if she would ever see her friends again. Winning looked impossible. Forget an audience with the king. She couldn’t even imagine surviving to face the gallows.

By lap six she knew the scouts had to have alerted the council that things looked hopeless for her. She envisioned Tuck pacing—regretting the decision to let her compete—Kate crying, and Kendrick mumbling.

Had the scouts recognized Thomas? Was he the one missing from their number who had
not
been kidnapped but perhaps paid to run
against
the kingdom?

Everyone was right. I shouldn’t have run.

What was wrong with Avery that death actually seemed a relief to her now? She began to contemplate the worst way to go.

What if she simply veered off the track and out of the stadium? Could she elude the guards before they realized what she was up to? Sure, her limbs were tying up, her heart and lungs already taxed beyond capacity, and she had no idea if she could reach the cool, dark privacy of the woods.

Could she somehow reach her home, beg someone, anyone, for news of her family, risk everything for one last grasp at freedom?

And if she
were
caught before she escaped the stadium? It would mean the gallows for her anyway, so why not make a desperate lunge for a guard’s weapon, take a few of them with her before she was swarmed?

Having completed the seventh lap while entertaining such macabre musings had distracted her, Avery suddenly became aware of every fiber of her being. Not an inch of her body wasn’t crying out for rest, for comfort, for oxygen, for water. And yet she also realized she had not lost any more ground to Thomas as they pounded into the first turn on the final 110-yard circuit.

The crowd was on its feet, and it appeared Thomas was finally laboring, too. No human could maintain a sprint for an entire half mile, and he seemed to be working harder to swing his arms, pump his legs. Avery still couldn’t imagine catching him, let alone overtaking him, but what did she have to lose if she died trying?

With the roar of the crowd deafening her, she fought to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head. Convinced beyond doubt she was going to die anyway, she kept running as her mind filled with images—images of her dog, her little brother, her mother, her father, all the friends she had made at the castle.

I
will
die trying!
she told herself.
I’ll spill myself, all of myself, spend all I’ve got left right here, right now, on this track in front of the king and queen and the scouts and the crowd and everybody.

She filled the art gallery of her mind with beautiful visions of Kate and Kendrick and Tuck, the dear friends she had come to love.

And Avery realized she had drawn within five yards of Thomas and could actually hear his labored breathing. For the first time he had to have heard or felt or sensed her closing in on him, for he glanced to his right and must have seen her out of the corner of his eye. He wobbled as he appeared to try to accelerate.

Avery lowered her head and tightened her fists and demanded from herself anything more that might be left anywhere deep within her. She willed herself to keep pounding, pounding.

The finish line drew within sight, and Avery’s whole body burned. Her bare feet slap, slap, slapped the track as Thomas’s shoes kicked grass and soil into her face. And with her last ounce of strength she moved right to pass him.

But he veered to block her!

Avery thrust out her hands to ward him off, then she shot left and dove across the line ahead of him.

Thomas, too, fell and rolled, stopping just short of the finish and having to crawl the last few feet for second place.

Avery lay on her back, gasping, trying to take in that she had actually won. Thomas rested on his side, clasping his chest, shaking violently. She wanted to ask him
why
he had left and
how,
but words were impossible.

Panting, Avery struggled to her feet as men and women rushed to kneel over Thomas. As someone brought her water, she worried he was seriously hurt and wondered whether losing might cost him his life.

A young servant used a gold-handled knife to cut a branch from an olive tree and hand it to an old man leaning weakly on a cane.

“Over here, young man,” the old-timer said, extending the branch to Avery, and she realized he was the king! How he had deteriorated even just since she had seen him last!

Though he no longer looked the part of a strong ruler, he certainly appeared pleased by her victory. His alarming green eyes were still bright as sea glass.

This was as close as Avery had ever been to the man powerful enough to, with a single word, spare her life and those of her friends.

Yet she could think of not a single thing to say.

Someone in the crowd hollered, “Say something!”

Queen Angelina, wearing a gold-colored gown with a gaudy gold choker and heavy gold earrings, strode up next to the king. Her fiery red hair cascaded down one shoulder, and Avery thought she would look beautiful if she didn’t know how dangerous she was.

The young servant whispered, “Runner, remove your cap in the presence of the king!”

Avery started to curtsy, caught herself, and bowed low.

The servant reached over and angrily yanked off her cap, and Avery’s thick mane of dark hair tumbled out.

The crowd gasped, and it seemed all eyes in the stadium had turned to Avery.

“Well, look at that,” Angelina said. “A little
girl
!”

“I am not a little girl,” she bit back before she could stop herself. “I’m thirteen!”

The crowd rose as the news rippled through the stadium, and Avery could see that the king looked shocked, too. As fast as she could, she bolted from the arena.

“Stop her!” Angelina cried out, but Avery had already recovered her breath and despite aching muscles zipped through the crowd, between the tents, over the hills, back to the castle, and into the Great Hall, glancing over her shoulder before stealing onto the stairwell to safety.

She didn’t stop at the bunkroom or even the kids’ Great Room.

Avery climbed all the way up and out onto the tiny balcony under the sloping rooftop where she reached to hoist herself up, startled when a hand clamped atop hers.

A strong arm pulled Avery onto the roof.

She landed with a thud, and relief washed over her as she found herself looking into Kendrick’s concerned face. He handed her a cloth and a mug of something warm and fragrant, and despite her best efforts, tears began to fall.

“How did you know to meet me here?”

“You underestimate how well I know you.”

“You know what just happened?”

He nodded. “It will be the highlight of castle gossip for months.”

For once, Kendrick’s bluntness comforted her. “What do I do now? I’ve made a mess of everything
again
.”

“Well, you certainly can’t risk anyone recognizing you and reporting you to the king. He and Angelina will be turning over every stone to find you as it is.”

“No doubt.”

“But this will pass, and sooner than you think.”

“How can you say that?”

“The king is dying, Avery. Those angling for his throne are moving into the kingdom in droves. A race won by an unknown thirteen-year-old girl will soon be the furthest thing from his mind. He risks dying without an heir—and to a king, little matters more than securing his throne. Having a son or staying alive will soon be all he cares about.”

They sat for a long silent moment.

“Thank you,” Avery whispered finally.

“I’m just glad you’re back,” Kendrick said. He pulled from a sack a loaf of crusty bread and a wedge of cheese and handed half to Avery. “You need to get your strength back.”

They ate as dusk settled. When a shadow crept across the face of the moon, Avery said, “Shouldn’t we go back? Kate and Tuck will worry.”

“Wait. There’s something you’ll want to see.”

“I don’t think I can handle any more excitement today.”

As the minutes passed, the shadow continued to fill the moon until the entire circle of moon was hidden. And then—in a breathtaking instant—the moon reappeared in all its glory, only in brilliant red.

“The ruby moon,” Avery whispered. “I’ve imagined it but never seen it.”

“The king planned his Olympiad around astronomers’ predictions,” Kendrick said. “He calls it ‘God’s favor.’ I call it good timing.”