“You know I’d do anything for you.”
He holds my gaze for another charged moment and my skin feels too tight. Or maybe my insides are too big? Either way, I have to look away in order to breathe.
“As much as I appreciate your help, I obviously can’t let this happen,” Serik says.
“What do you mean you can’t let this happen? It’s not like we have a choice.”
“You do have a choice. You’re not imprisoned.”
“What are you talking about?” He’s got that glint in his eyes again. The same expression he wore when he convinced me to drink vorkhi and sneak into the Qusbegi Festival. The one that means I won’t like whatever comes out of his mouth next.
“Leave, En. Escape. Don’t let Temujin use you for your power.”
I swat his hands away. “Have you lost all sense? I can’t just leave you here.”
“You can. I want you to. I’m begging you to.”
“Do you realize what you’re asking?” I shoot to my feet. “What do you expect me to do? Scamper back to Ashkar, settle down with a caravan of herders, and pretend I didn’t abandon you?”
“Do you realize what you’re asking of me? I have no interest in being the bait Temujin uses to manipulate you. I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“Neither will I!”
“Please, Enebish.” Serik’s voice is a frayed whisper. “Go. Before you do something you can’t take back.”
I shake my head so vehemently, my hair comes unbound and snarls across my face. “I don’t have a clue how to leave this place, even if I wanted to.”
“If you care for me at all, you’ll find a way.”
“If you care for me at all, you won’t ask me to! And this isn’t just about us. What if the Shoniin are telling the truth about the Protected Territories and the war front?” I’ve been so focused on saving Serik and Orbai, I hadn’t given much consideration to this possibility until the words tumble out of my mouth.
“What?” Serik gapes at me as if I just spoke Verdenese. “You can’t possibly believe their propaganda.”
“I don’t.” At least I don’t think I do. “But Temujin was right about you being sent to Gazar. And you haven’t seen the horrible conditions on the grazing lands. Maybe some good could come from me going on one of these missions? It would allow me to survey the war front and speak with soldiers. If the empire is truly as corrupt as Temujin claims, I want to help the people. And this is the only way we’ll know definitively who to trust.”
“Find other ways to help. In our realm. That don’t require treason.”
“There are no other ways. We’re trapped.”
The door whines open and Temujin strides into the shack. “I hate to break up this joyful reunion….” The way he glances between me and Serik leaves no doubt he heard every word of our argument. “But Enebish has a commitment to fulfill.”
“Now?” I curse the blasted tremble in my voice—and how it cements Serik’s unyielding expression. “You’ve only just returned from retrieving Serik. Don’t you need to rest and—”
“War waits for no one. It’s time to see what you can do.” Temujin holds the door open and motions me through. “We only have a week to prepare you for your first mission.”
“Please, Enebish,” Serik calls as I trudge out into the sunlight. “At least consider what I said.”
“Fine,” I relent. He’ll scream himself hoarse and shatter his bones against the prison bars if I don’t. And I do keep my word. I give his ridiculous request careful consideration as I descend all three steps leading out of the shack.
There. Promise kept.
Decision made.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” I SNAP AT TEMUJIN.
He waves toward the hill. “The Temple of Serenity.”
I charge across the clearing, as fast as my injuries will allow. I have to bite down hard on my tongue every time my bad leg meets the ground.
“Wait, Enebish. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“You’re forcing me to use my power against my will. How else can it be?”
“I’m not forcing you. We made a deal.”
I laugh bitterly. “Only because you gave me no choice.”
“We always have a choice,” Temujin insists. “It’s no fault of mine if you can’t bear the alternative. Sometimes morals must be bent for the greater good.”
Easy to say when you had no morals to begin with, I’m tempted to mutter, but that’s not entirely true. Temujin’s fighting relentlessly for the shepherds and the people in the Protected Territories. It’s his methods that are less than honorable.
Temujin falls in stride with me. His gaze is so incessant, the side of my face burns like I’m standing too close to a bonfire, but I keep my eyes fixed ahead and raise my anger like a shield.
The closer we draw to the temple, the faster my heart pumps. Blood drums against the front of my skull, and my fingers tap an anxious rhythm against my thighs. I’m not ready to call the night again. When I rescued Orbai, the blackout swallowed far more of Sagaan than I intended. The monster was so close to overtaking me. Not to mention, Serik will be furious. And Ghoa …
She will never forgive me. I’ll officially become a traitor.
I lunge forward, moving even faster. As if I can somehow outrun all of this.
“I really am sorry,” Temujin says when we reach the temple, “but it isn’t personal. War requires a certain degree of ruthlessness. You know that. I’m only doing what I must to save the people I love.”
“Didn’t your mother teach you not to lie?” I grumble.
“My mother couldn’t teach me much of anything. She died of the sweating sickness when I was two. It was only my father, two brothers, and I.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting him to tell me anything so personal. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s the same for so many families in Verdenet. Before we became a Protected Territory, our people perished by the thousands of illness or starvation. Or Zemyan raids.” He nods at me. “But under Ashkar’s safeguard, it’s hardly better. We may have protection and basic medicine, but what does that matter when just as many are carted off to the war front and slaughtered like pigs? Or put to death for simply living our beliefs?”
He gently touches the line of rings down his ear as we enter the temple. “My oldest brother was among those killed for refusing to remove their earrings. I found out weeks later in a one-sentence letter. And it’s the last I’ve heard from my family. The imperial governor has made it impossible to get messages in or out of Verdenet. They could all be dead.”
“Like my family.” Fuzzy memories of the day my village burned shimmer across my vision. The rough jolt of my mother’s hands shoving me out the window before the roof collapsed. The chorus of painful screams as one neighbor after the next burned alive in their huts.
“Skies, that was insensitive. I didn’t think …” Temujin tugs at his hair, which was already sticking up in messy peaks, and scrubs his knuckles over his eyes. They’re bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion, and his tunic is so filthy, I doubt he’s changed in days. Instead of the confident rebel leader I first met, he looks like an unraveled thread from the tapestry.
“I’m just tired and frustrated and crumbling beneath the pressure, obviously. I’m sorry I’ve had to be so heavy-handed with you and Serik, but so many people are depending on me. I’m desperate for your help.”
I perch my elbows on the altar, beside his. I don’t tell him it’s okay. Because it’s not. But part of me can almost understand.
“I swear I didn’t bring you here to listen to my sob story.” Temujin drags his arm across the altar, sending a cascade of tiny dried flowers and incense to the floor. “I just can’t say these things to anyone else. They’re counting on me to be the strong one. To have a plan. But you’re not depending on me for anything, so I can say whatever I want. It’s kind of refreshing.”
“Feel free to find me anytime y
ou need someone to doubt and dislike you.”
He lets out a burst of laughter. “You don’t dislike me.”
“I definitely don’t like you.”
He laughs again, his head thrown all the way back, and I realize my claim may not be entirely true. I could like Temujin—just not the version of himself he shows the world, the boy who tricks and blackmails me.
I like this version of him: raw, vulnerable. Real.
“At least I can count on you to be honest. Now, let’s get down to business.”
The knots in my stomach tighten. I glance around the beautiful temple, with its bright jade columns and canary roof. It should feel open and inviting and right—this is probably how all temples looked across the continent before the Sky King purged the First Gods—but this magnificent sanctuary suddenly feels like another prison. A torture chamber.
Sweat slicks my hands as Ghoa’s and Serik’s disappointed faces swirl through the purple smoke. “I don’t think I can do this,” I whisper.
“I wasn’t lying when I told you I have a way to ensure you maintain perfect control of the night,” Temujin says.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Temujin sweeps his hand across the temple. “You’re looking at it.”
I stare at him, my gaze so hot with skepticism that I’m shocked his skin isn’t smoking. “This temple doesn’t even have walls. It couldn’t possibly contain my power.”
“I assure you, it can. Do you think I would encourage this if it were dangerous?”
“Yes! You are a wild, rebel deserter.”
With a chuckle, he grips either side of the altar and leans over. There’s nowhere to hide from his hypnotic golden eyes. “Look up at the sky and tell me what you see.”
Sighing, I tilt my head and gaze at the patch of pearly blue glinting through the smoke hole. “What am I even looking for? The sky is always the same here: clear and sunny and perfect.”
“Exactly! Darkness doesn’t exist in this realm, which means the only place you can access your power is within these walls, and the Lady of the Sky’s control is perfect here. Don’t you trust Her?”
“Of course,” I retort.
He backs out of the temple and settles on the lowest stone step. “Good. Then do your worst, Enebish the Destroyer.”
I fix him with an exasperated glare, mostly so he won’t notice how badly my fingers are trembling as I lift my hands. Before Nariin, I could control the tendrils of night as if they were an extension of my own body: painting impenetrable swathes of shadow, sending bursts of tarry blackness over enemy encampments, and throwing starfire with the accuracy of a marksman’s arrow. But now my skin feels hot and tight. Anxiety flips through my stomach like tadpoles.
Or is that the monster? Poised and ready to pounce?
I nearly snatch my hand back, but Temujin shouts, “Focus! You can do this. I know how it feels to lose everything. I know how it feels to be terrified and unsure. But I also know how it feels to be remade, to cloak yourself in steel and wash yourself with fire and refuse to be trampled. To stand and say, ‘I am not what they make of me, but what I make of me.’ Remake yourself, Enebish!”
I tighten every muscle and reach toward the domed roof. My palms grow hot, my throat begins to tingle, and slowly, the air in the temple melts into a dark velvety blue dotted with diamond pinpricks. It churns beneath the dome like a storm cloud, growing blacker and blacker, until …
Pop!
Threads of darkness fall like sheets of rain and swirl around me, chattering and purring, giddy for this rare moment of release. Then they surge toward freedom—as I knew they would. But when they reach the edge of the overhanging rooftop, they rebound with a thud. As if invisible tent walls have been stretched between the jade pillars. Beyond the temple, the sky remains as pale as cut glass.
A punch of disbelieving laughter bursts from my lips, and I tilt my head back to gaze up at the glittering stars overhead. They look like a band of milk spilled across the heavens and, blazing skies, I’ve missed them. My eyes burn as I trace their distant light. When I tug ever so softly, a star quivers in response. Not crashing. Or careening. But sliding lazily toward the earth.
I laugh and cry harder, teasing their fiery tails between my fingers. Need rages through my veins, hotter and hotter until I’m an inferno. Melting from the inside out.
That’s when the monster attacks. Before I even realize it’s awake, familiar claws scrape along my spine and the balance shifts—just as it did at Nariin. The zinging in my chest turns to shredding. The euphoria twists into terror as the monster unhinges its jaw.
I toss the threads aside with a scream and tuck into a ball, but a mass of yellow-white starfire still shoots through the smoke hole and explodes against the invisible barrier. The blast knocks me on my back and slams the air from my lungs like a cannonball. If the temple hadn’t contained the destruction, Temujin would be dead. The beautiful fields would be aflame.
Tears clog my eyes as the darkness sputters out. I watch the threads drift back up to the heavens like campfire smoke, vaguely aware of Temujin’s boots pounding up the steps, but I remain on my back, fingering the hole where the moonstone used to be. So I don’t have to see the terror and revulsion in his eyes.
He huffs down beside me and knocks his knee against mine. “Well, that was … enlightening.”
“If by enlightening you mean horrifying, then yes.” My voice sounds as hollow as wind crying through swamp reeds.
“It was definitely more impressive than horrifying.”
“There’s nothing impressive about losing control and killing people.”
Temujin knocks my leg more insistently. When I finally groan and look over at him, he offers a gentle smile. “You needn’t worry about that because you will have perfect control. Come here morning and night over the next seven days, practice honing your power, then help me save our people.” He presses his palms together and looks at me with as much longing as Orbai begging for barley cakes.
Serik groans so loudly in my head, I almost check over my shoulder to make sure he isn’t here.
I’m glad he isn’t.
His face would be redder than his holy robes, and his eyes would be glinting with fury and disappointment. Not in my lack of control, but because I gave in to Temujin’s demands.
“Stop that.” I wave my hand at Temujin’s pouty face. “You know I have to help you, so why bother begging?” I scoot away and climb to my feet, but Temujin just follows me.
“Because I want you to believe in what we’re doing. To truly become part of the Shoniin. It’s time we officially welcomed you into the group. New recruits are always initiated with prayers and oblations to the Lady of the Sky. Come on.” He hooks his arm around me and steers me toward the stairs.
I duck free and stand my ground. “I’m too tired.” And I’m definitely not ready to become part of his group.
“This will enliven you. The ceremony is directly from my Book of Whisperings—handed down through my family over seven generations. You’ll feel as though you’re standing in the middle of Nashab Marketplace.”
My toes instinctively wiggle inside my boots, picturing the grainy sand and delicious heat. I know he’s baiting me, looking for a weak spot in my fortress walls, but it’s not like I have other options at the moment. Temujin isn’t foolish enough to leave me unsupervised, which means I can’t sneak over to see Serik or hunt for a gateway back to the Ram’s Head. And I am interested in seeing how others worship the Lady and Father. Simply being allowed to worship openly, without fear of reprisal, is something I’ve always dreamed of. And maybe I’ll learn something useful about the Shoniin. Something that will prove whether they’re really as noble as they claim.
“Fine. I’ll come to your little ceremony.”
Temujin flashes a dazzling smile and leads me back down the hill to the cobalt fire. As we walk, he calls out to every group of Shoniin we pass, requesting that they join us for the service. Most are staggerin
g back from the training fields for lunch, and despite myself, a wistful smile lifts my lips as the Shoniin sink onto the logs around the fire, trading stories and encouragement and laughter. It’s been ages since I’ve sat around a fire with my comrades. A lifetime since I’ve toasted and drunk and just let myself be. For two years it’s been just me and Serik and Orbai, holding vigil through the night, and as much as my head aches with frustration and confusion over who to trust and what to believe, my heart aches more. For friendship and acceptance and healing.
Careful, my subconscious whispers. This is how they sink their hooks into you.
But it’s just one ceremony. A few little prayers.
“It’s time we welcomed our newest recruit!” Temujin calls the group to attention. “Let us lift up our voices in praise.”
Inkar squeezes in beside me, pulling a far less eager Chanar behind her. Though he doesn’t outright scowl at me, so I suppose that’s progress.
“This is so exciting,” she gushes as the group breaks into song. We sing praise after praise to the Lady of the Sky and each one tickles my tongue like sweet honey wine. Familiar and comforting, like the song Temujin sang at Orbai’s healing.
After singing, we pass around prayer dolls and offer up collective supplications and oblations. There are lengthy prayers and vorkhi offerings and we circle the fire too many times to count. It’s both calming and invigorating. Solemn and exultant. So much better than the stale prayers and cold idols at Ikh Zuree.
I keep catching Temujin’s eyes on me, sparkling in the strange cerulean light. I told you you’d like this, he mouths across the fire.
I roll my eyes and try to flatten the smile on my lips.
At the conclusion of the final prayer, Temujin hops up on a boulder and shouts, “Bring the urns!”
A few Shoniin dash off and return from the Temple of Serenity bearing two of the massive urns, one made of coral, the other obsidian. They set them near the bonfire, so the flickering light snakes through the intricately carved images of horses and warriors.
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