“She has you well trained,” Chanar calls from across the fire. The Shoniin seated around him snicker, but instead of responding, I whistle at Orbai, who takes flight.
She circles overhead until I click my tongue, then she dives and snatches Chanar’s ration sack clean off his lap. “I am definitely the trainer.”
The Shoniin around him hoot with laughter. A few even cast me approving looks. Inkar stands and applauds.
We sit around the fire for what feels like hours but, strangely, the sun remains overhead, blazing hot as midday. When Inkar shoves to her feet with a yawn, I squint up at the sky. “What time is it?”
“Nearly two in the morning,” Oyunna slurs.
“But the sun—”
“They call it the realm of the Eternal Blue for a reason,” Inkar says. “The sun never sets on the land of the First Gods.”
“You mean it never gets dark?” Anxiety rushes out of me like a breath held too long, but a persistent itch immediately takes its place. A terrible, insatiable longing.
“Never, which is why I volunteered to let you stay with me.” She winks, motions me up, and guides me through the maze of colorful tents. We pass a pale pink tent that reeks of burnt wool, and when a girl ducks through the flap, I catch sight of an assembly line of workers branding the ram insignia onto military rations. Moans come from what I presume to be an infirmary tent, and a deep crimson tent belches the same blue smoke Temujin used during my rescue at the Sky Palace.
At last we reach a sea-green tent, and Inkar lifts the silver flap with a flourish. “Home sweet home.”
Once we’re inside, Inkar bunches up a messy bedroll and throws it out into the dirt. “I’m too tired to deal with my brother. He can sleep somewhere else.” Then she lays out a fresh blanket beside her own. She even drags a branch inside for Orbai, who nibbles her fingers in appreciation.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I snuggle under the blanket and stare up at the lantern dangling from the apex of the tent. “I don’t know why you’re so kind to me.”
Inkar yawns. “I’m only doing it so you’ll cooperate and lend your night spinning to our cause.”
The blow lands as hard as an actual punch. I cough and my hands fly to my smarting chest.
“I’m just teasing you.” Inkar’s laughter punctures the quiet like the thwap, thwap, thwap of raining arrows. “You’re one of us now. Family. And while family may goad each other, we also stand up for each other when it matters most.”
“Family,” I repeat, thinking of my own. Of Serik, bound and gagged in the back of a prison wagon. Of Ghoa’s icy tears and haunted expression in those terrible moments before I slammed my darkness to the earth.
I trace my fingers over the little silver-and-onyx feathers at my wrist, wanting to rip the bracelet off and clasp it tighter all at once.
Is she hunting me? Does she miss me? Do I want her to miss me? These maddening thoughts go around and around my brain until I finally succumb to exhaustion.
But there’s little rest in sleep.
Maybe it’s because I carved the moonstone from my flesh. Or maybe it’s because I called the night during my escape with Orbai. Or maybe it’s the stronger connection to the Lady of the Sky in this realm. But for the first time in two years, I dream of Nariin.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IT BEGINS WITH THE FAMILIAR HORRORS, THE THINGS the moonstone could never fully eradicate: the swirling, amorphous darkness and the terrifying weight on my chest. But now the nightmare expands like blotches of paint, revealing hidden, horrifying details. Still not a complete picture, but glimpses. Flashes.
I see a field of crystalline snow, blinding in its purity. A blink later, it’s littered with heaps of charred bodies, like flies in a bucket of milk. And the smell … burning flesh and melting hair. I choke and gag as I crawl through the smoldering ashes.
Ghoa is there, sitting beside me. She’s folded into a tiny ball with her head on her knees, her hand still resting on her blood-covered sword. She rocks forward and back and quietly whispers, “How could you? How could you? Burning skies, how could you?”
“Enebish!” Inkar’s frantic voice blasts through the billows of smoke, and I rip back into consciousness. Her hands are clamped around my shoulders, holding my thrashing arms to my sides, and Orbai circles above us like a screeching whirlwind.
“It’s just a dream,” Inkar says, gasping.
But it isn’t just a dream. It’s a memory. The memory. As angry as I am with Ghoa, seeing her like that—so gutted and distraught, yet stalwart by my side, when my crime was far worse than attacking an eagle—breaks something inside of me.
I curl into a ball and moan into my hands. My skin is slathered in sweat, and pain radiates through my injured arm and leg—as sharp and as raw as it was on that terrible day. “Why did I kill them? I didn’t mean …” I didn’t mean to let the monster escape. I didn’t even know it was there, lying dormant inside of me. I had never felt its wicked presence before. Had never even come close to losing control of my Kalima power.
Lies.
I had been foolish and reckless and grasping. Every bit as desperate for promotion as Ghoa. Each night after receiving that first official missive from the king, I sent my darkness into his bedchamber. I shaped the wisps into images of me leading the Kalima and told the tendrils what to whisper in his sleeping ears. As we marched farther and farther from Sagaan, it required more of my strength. So much so, my grip on the night began to falter during drills. It would spark and flare and burn out entirely. I knew I should stop—my power was needed on the battlefield. But I couldn’t. What better way to honor my parents than by leading the Kalima against the Zemyans?
“Shhh,” Inkar murmurs. She smooths the damp clumps of hair away from my face. “You’re safe. You haven’t hurt anyone. We’re in the realm of the Eternal Blue, remember?”
My eyes creak open to find walls of mint-green silk and Inkar’s worried face hovering over mine. Orbai lands on my other side and nudges my hand with her beak. The air is warm and fragrant with the calming scent of lemongrass and globeflowers. From somewhere across the encampment, a gong sounds, followed by the steady hum of feet and voices. I loose a shaky breath. We’re in the realm of the Eternal Blue, not a freezing field strewn with bodies. Inkar’s right about that. But she’s wrong about the rest. I did hurt someone. I killed an entire caravan. I called the night and battered them with starfire. All for my own selfish ambition.
I cover my face with my hands and moan. I need my moonstone. I need these debilitating memories off my conscience. But the rare stone is buried deep in the snow along the bank of the Amereti River, assuming Ghoa didn’t retrieve it. Temujin would never let me reclaim it anyway. Not when he needs me to shield his deserters from the war front.
Scrambling to my knees, I crawl across the tent to a low table holding a basin of water, and splash my face until the bowl is empty and my tunic is soaked.
I can feel Inkar’s worried gaze on my back, as heavy as a fur coat, but I keep my lips sealed tight. There’s nothing to say. Nariin will always be there, and I will always be running from it.
“I know what will help,” Inkar announces with a clap. But before she can tell me, someone starts shouting. A voice I know better than my own.
A warbling cry rips from my throat, like digging out of an avalanche and drawing that first glorious gasp of air. I dart from Inkar’s tent and race toward the clearing. My injuries will be cursing me later, but that pain is nothing compared to the anxiety that’s been sawing through my heart ever since I heard the words Serik and Gazar in the same sentence.
I follow his shouts through the tents and past the bonfire and spot him at last walking with Temujin toward a shack at the edge of the clearing. Or being dragged toward the shack by Temujin, more accurately. I didn’t notice the little building last night. It’s made of dull brown wood with green moss creeping up the walls. Not much to look at, compared to the vibrant tents.
“Release me!” Serik
roars, and I suppress a chuckle. Of course he would enter the realm of the Eternal Blue fighting and bellowing.
“I can’t release you just yet.” Temujin speaks slowly. “But I assure you—”
“Save your assurances! They mean nothing to me. Where is Enebish?”
Temujin looks seconds away from sliding his hand a bit higher and wringing Serik’s neck.
“Serik!” I collapse against him in an exhausted hug. “You made it.”
Orbai swoops past, screeching her displeasure at the commotion.
Serik takes one look at us both and resumes bellowing at Temujin. “You promised Enebish was safe!”
“I am safe,” I interject, but Serik yells louder.
“You look awful. They’ve clearly been torturing you.” He gestures to my tear-streaked face and the wound at my collarbone. “And he kidnapped me!”
“No one is torturing me. I just had a nightmare. And Temujin ‘kidnapped’ you from a prison wagon.”
“I think the term you’re looking for is rescued,” Temujin cuts in. “An act that’s usually received with far more gratitude.”
“I didn’t need your help,” Serik says to Temujin. “I had a plan.”
Temujin lets out a long, weary breath and looks to me. “Is he always so …”
“Yes,” I say with a wheezy laugh. “Always. Surprisingly, you come to appreciate it.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Serik bunches back his sleeves. “If you have a problem with me, deserter …”
I roll my eyes and tug Serik’s arm. “Stop picking fights and come with me. I’ll explain everything.”
Before Serik can take a step, Temujin yanks him back. “I’m afraid he must stay here, in the supply shack.”
“What?” Serik and I cry out in unison.
“Only for a short—”
“See!” Serik says. “You are holding me hostage.”
“You promised to free him,” I exclaim.
Inkar, Chanar, and a swarm of curious Shoniin dart into the clearing, buzzing toward the disturbance like flies to sheep.
“Enebish! There you are,” Inkar calls.
“Having trouble with the big, mean monk?” Chanar elbows Temujin in the ribs. “I don’t know why you bothered saving him—rich, pampered coward, hiding away in the monastery while the rest of us bleed and fight.” He scrunches his nose at Serik’s holy robes.
Serik’s entire body goes as rigid as the Ondor Mountains, and the cords in his forearms bulge. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Don’t get him started.” Temujin waves Chanar and the other Shoniin back. “He’ll never shut up.” Then he steps closer to me and lowers his voice. “Stop making a scene. I promised to free Serik from the prison wagon. Which I did. I said nothing about letting him roam freely here.”
“That was implied!” I toss my hands into the air. What I really want to do is smack the virtuous expression off Temujin’s face. “Why would you free him from one prison only to put him in another?”
“To ensure you uphold your end of our bargain.”
Serik stops ranting and looks at me. “What bargain?”
“I gave you my word,” I grind out, eyes fixed on Temujin. “That should be enough.”
“Should is fickle, isn’t it?” Temujin says darkly. “I should be able to wear these tribal rings in my ears. I should be free to return to Verdenet to check on my family. I should be believed when I tell my superior officers I didn’t desert my regiment, but unfortunately, nothing in life is ever as it should be.”
“But—”
“Put yourself in my position. You’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t trust me, so it shouldn’t come as a shock that I don’t trust you, either. I promise no harm will come to Serik, but he must stay here until you make good on your promise.” Temujin yanks Serik closer to the shack. This time, Serik doesn’t fight. He allows Temujin to drag him along like a limp sack of grain.
“What did you promise him, Enebish?” Serik’s voice is quiet, ragged.
“Can I at least speak with him in private?” I ask Temujin.
He hesitates but eventually nods. “I suppose that’s fine. Just let me get him situated.”
Temujin and Serik disappear, and I pace outside the door, too furious to feel the twinge in my leg as I stomp from one end of the shack to the other. The monster scrapes and roars in my gut, and I laugh bitterly because the one time I actually want to set it free, there’s not a single ribbon of darkness to call.
After an eternity, Temujin reemerges alone. “You have ten minutes.”
I shoulder past him. “How generous.”
“Would you do anything differently?” he fires back.
I grumble, which is the closest I’ll ever come to agreeing with him. Then I push through the door and slam it behind me.
The shack is cluttered with unused sleeping rolls and satchels and gray Shoniin tunics. Everything is coated in a fine layer of dust, other than the sliding boot prints Serik left across the floor. I follow them around an enormous pile of mismatched leather armor and find him in what can only be described as a cage. The back half of the room has been quartered off with thick wooden bars that stretch from floor to ceiling. Serik stands behind them, cursing under his breath as he bangs on the rungs, checking for weak points.
“At least it’s not Gazar.” I force a brittle laugh.
Serik’s head snaps up. “Gazar would be preferable. What is this place? What are you doing here? And what did you promise that deserter scum?”
“I don’t even know where to begin.” I slouch against the bars and let my legs slide out from under me, until I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor. Serik does the same on the other side of the bars. Our arms briefly touch through the gaps, and the frayed edge of his sleeve tickles my wrist. The familiar scent of pine ink and parchment envelops me, and I have a sudden urge to reach for his hand. Needing to be closer so he can flash me his moon-eyed smile and tell me everything is going to be fine.
“I knew better than to trust Temujin,” I say after a full minute of quiet. “But it’s not like I had options. You were bound for Gazar, and this was the only way I could think to save you.”
“What did you promise him?” Serik asks, gentler this time.
I swirl my finger through the dust on the floor. “What do you think? What has everyone always used me for?”
“But that isn’t even possible….”
“It is now.” I turn to face him and tap the angry red wound at my throat.
I expect Serik to cringe at the meaty mess, but his lips flatten and he scrambles back to his feet. “I’m going to kill Temujin—”
“Stop shouting. He didn’t cut it out. I did.”
His hands slowly drop back to his sides. “Why? I never believed you needed that stupid rock, but why would you do that for him?”
“It wasn’t for him. It was for Orbai.”
“But Orbai’s fine.” Serik gestures toward the ceiling. Every few seconds my eagle’s discontented screeches filter through the shack.
“She’s fine because I shielded her with my darkness. After Temujin disrupted my torture at Qusbegi, Ghoa sent me into Sagaan to track him and infiltrate his ranks. But while I was in the capital, I found thousands of shepherds freezing and starving on the winter grazing lands. Apparently, the Sun Stokers have been detained at the war front because the Zemyans are advancing. Ghoa claimed an alternate relief effort was underway, but I lived among the shepherds for a week and never saw a crumb of food or a stitch of clothing from the empire. Temujin and his Shoniin are the only ones providing aid—”
“So?” Serik interrupts. “That’s nice and all, but is it enough to jump headfirst into their deserter movement? And what does it have to do with Orbai?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I didn’t jump into any movement. I wasn’t even considering joining the Shoniin—and Temujin knew it. That’s why he told me you were being sent to Gazar. At first I ref
used to believe Ghoa would allow it, but when I confronted her, she got so angry that she lost control of her Kalima power and shot daggers of ice at my chest. Orbai dodged in front of me at the last second and saved me.”
“Ghoa did what?”
I nod gravely, reliving Orbai’s tortured wails. “I cut out the moonstone and darkened the grazing lands so we could escape. But I couldn’t take Orbai to a healer in Sagaan without being recognized, so I came here.”
Serik wilts back to the floor and mutters, “Blazing, burning skies.” He bunches his sleeves in his fists, puffs out his cheeks, and exhales a long breath. “And where, exactly, is here?”
“This is the realm of the Eternal Blue—the first level of heaven, reserved for the most devout followers of the Lady of the Sky. Her world within our own.”
Serik stares at me without blinking. “You expect me to believe we’ve been whisked away to the land of the First Gods?”
“How else would you explain this place? We’re clearly not in Sagaan anymore.”
“I don’t know where we are or how to explain it, but I know the First Gods would never allow me in their presence. They’ve made it perfectly clear I am nothing to them. Which is fine because I don’t want their skies-forsaken Kalima powers.”
“Do you think I’m happy about this?” I wave my hand to encompass the shack. “But refusing to accept our situation won’t help matters.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult. I just don’t understand how any of this is possible.”
“Temujin is Goddess-touched,” I say. Then I quickly explain the rest: how Temujin was healed with Loridium, how the shrines are a gateway, and how the Shoniin believe the empire is supposedly corrupt.
“And how does your night spinning factor into all of this?”
I look down at my hands. “In exchange for rescuing you from the prison wagon, I promised to use my night spinning to help Temujin ferry deserters from the war front.”
It sounds worse, admitting it out loud.
Serik sucks in a gasp and I brace for another onslaught, but instead he traces the golden stitches down the edge of his cloak. When he finally looks up, I’m surprised to find his eyes are fervent beneath his downcast lashes. Reverent, almost. “You’re willing to do that for me?”
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