But it’s hard to deny a truth that’s staring you in the face.
“I was ripped from my bed in the dead of night,” a Chotgori boy named Shai recalls with a shudder. “All of the children from my village were. The imperial warriors said it was our obligation and honor as new members of the Unified Empire, so they rounded us up and forced us to march thirty miles through blinding snow. Upon arrival, we were expected to go straight to battle. Without food or rest. They slapped a saber in my hand, even though I had never even seen one.”
“What about training camp?” I demand. “No warrior should see the battlefield for at least two years.”
Three boys across the tent laugh so hard that they cough, and Chuva purses her lips as if she feels sorry for me. “There isn’t time for training camp,” she says. “The Zemyans are advancing too swiftly. We were thrown at the battlefront like chaff, in the hopes that it would be enough to slow the Zemyans until the actual warriors arrive.”
My hands tremble as I wrap the last few bandages, and my head throbs as I amble out into the blinding light. How can the same king who saved an entire nation from drought send legions of children to be slaughtered? And how can Ghoa and the rest of the Kalima stand by and allow it?
I want to claw these thoughts from my head, but, like parasites, they’ve already burrowed too deep.
I’m desperate for the soft embrace of my bedroll, for time to think and rest and process, but I drag myself to Temujin’s tent to demand Serik’s freedom.
“I upheld my end of the bargain,” I say as I stoop through the door.
Temujin sits behind his desk with Chanar, Oyunna, and several others perched over his shoulder. They all stare down at a large, curling map, their faces grave, all traces of giddiness over the successful mission vanished. No one responds to my statement. They don’t even bother glancing up.
I step cautiously toward them, my mind prickling with panic. Did imperial scouts follow us back to the Ram’s Head? Did my starfire lash out after I crossed? “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“One of our scouting parties just returned.” Temujin’s voice grates like a dull blade. “The Zemyans have taken the fort at Ivolga.”
“What?” My legs wobble and I catch myself against the desk. “That’s impossible. Ivolga is the largest Imperial Army base. Thousands and thousands of warriors would have had to perish in order for it to fall.”
“Which is exactly what happened,” Oyunna says. “Chanar saw it firsthand.”
Chanar plucks a shot of vorkhi off the desk and drains it in a single gulp. His perpetually grim mouth and somber eyes are even more downcast than usual—like he’s seen a ghost. “Not only do the Zemyans have our cannons and munitions and food, they have a foothold. They’re halfway to Sagaan—farther than they’ve ever advanced before.”
With a vicious growl, Temujin stabs a dagger into the dot marking Ivolga. I feel the rattle of the blade clear to my bones as I think of the young, untrained warriors like the recruits in the infirmary, perishing by the thousands. How many do the Zemyans have to kill before Ghoa and the king accept that they can’t stop them on their own? That our old tactics are no longer working? That they need all the help they can get?
“Have you heard back from Commander Ghoa?” I ask Temujin. “Surely after this, she’ll be willing to—”
“Not a word,” Temujin cuts me off. “I’ll send another missive immediately, but our numbers need to be formidable to have a prayer of convincing her to join with us. Which means we need to work far more quickly than I thought. We need you to ferry another group of recruits soon, Enebish. I’m going to see if Kartok can have more ready to go tomorrow night.”
I wheeze. I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours, I’m reeling from everything the recruits told me, and I’m so light-headed from holding the darkness, my insides feel like a wrung-out sponge. I’d told myself one mission would be enough. Temujin would release Serik, then we’d find a way to escape. “Tomorrow night?”
“If we wait longer than that, there may be no one left to ferry. No Unified Empire to defend,” Temujin says.
Don’t go further down this path, Ghoa’s voice howls in my ears. Don’t squander this second chance. But I push away from the desk and lock eyes with Temujin. Maintaining our independence and protecting the people has to be my first priority. It should be her first priority. “If you release Serik and allow me to rest today and tomorrow, I can be ready to go by nightfall,” I say with a fierceness that surprises me.
“Yes!” Chanar pounds the desk and actually smiles at me. Oyunna and the others clap and cheer, and a flicker of pride lights my insides—like the penetrating glow of a candle in the dark. For the first time since I entered the realm of the Eternal Blue, I feel connected. Committed. Certain I’m on the right course.
Temujin is the only one who frowns. He grips the hilt of his dagger and wrenches it from the table before looking at me. “I’m incredibly grateful for your willingness, but I can’t release Serik just yet.”
“Why not?” The foul taste of deceit coats my mouth, oily and bitter. I swallow hard, but it thickens like cement in my throat. “I upheld my end of the bargain. You promised to release him!”
“And I have every intention of keeping that promise. I wish I could do so now—”
“Save your breath.” I wheel around and storm toward the door.
Quicker than a Zemyan arrow, Temujin flies from his desk and blocks my path. “Serik is volatile. You know that. And I have to consider the group’s welfare above all else.”
“I’ll keep him in line. I swear on my life—”
“I want to believe you’re truly with us after seeing the horrors at the war front, but Serik made his opinion of us clear, and if I release him and you flee, we’ll have no prayer of joining with the Imperial Army. No prayer of stopping Zemya. I can’t take that chance.”
“That makes it okay to lie and manipulate me again?”
“It’s not a lie. I’ll release him as soon as I can.”
“And when will that be? What more do I have to do?
“All I ask is a few more missions—double our numbers so our ranks are large enough to make a real difference in battle, and prove you’re not going to abandon us the first chance you get. In the meantime, you can visit him. Explain what’s going on. See if you can soften him to our cause.”
“Prolonging his imprisonment isn’t going to soften him.”
Temujin drags a hand down his face. “This is the best I can offer. I can’t cater to you and Serik at the detriment of the people.”
“What if I refuse to go on these missions?” I cross my arms and glare up at him.
Oyunna, Chanar, and the other Shoniin fall still, their expressions tight. Temujin stares me down with his glinting tiger eyes and steps away from the door, extending his arm to let me pass. “You’re free to choose, of course, but you won’t turn your back on our people. That’s not who you are.”
I curse and stomp past him, hating that I stumbled into another one of his traps.
And hating even more that he’s right.
Inkar escorts me to the prison shack. Chanar offered to do it, undoubtedly so he could goad Serik and cut my visit as short as possible, but Inkar arrived from the infirmary just in time.
“Temujin will release your friend soon,” she says as we skirt around the bonfire. “Try not to take it personally. He’s just cautious—and under an enormous amount of pressure.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of defending him?”
“Do you ever get tired of defending Serik?” Inkar shoots back. “They’re not so different. Brash and extreme, but fighting tirelessly for what they believe in.”
Except Serik doesn’t blackmail people and break promises to get his way, I’m tempted to say. But I don’t bother because, in Inkar’s eyes, Temujin is beyond reproach. And because I’m not entirely certain Serik wouldn’t resort to those things if backed into a corner.
When we reach the shack, I
nkar plops down on the top stair. “I’m supposed to give you ten minutes, but I’ll let you stay until someone comes looking. You’ve earned that, at least.”
“Thank you.” I muster a thin smile. “Truly.”
Inkar flips her long ponytail over her shoulder and shrugs. “Don’t thank me yet. If the rumors I’ve heard from the people who feed Serik are true, you’re going to have your hands full.”
“And it’s only going to get worse. Pray for me.”
Inkar chuckles, even though I couldn’t be more serious.
Taking a deep breath, I let myself in and wind through the musty dark. The supply shack is fairly large, but still I expected to hear Serik grumbling and pacing as soon as I entered. Instead, an odd, high-pitched plinking, followed by the sound of something tearing, drifts from the back of the room.
“What in the skies are you up to now?” I mutter as I circumnavigate the mountain of mismatched armor. Exhaustion pulls at my aching muscles, making my bad leg drag even more than usual. The toe of my boot catches on a helmet, and I crash to my knees. The strange sounds stop abruptly. By the time I climb to my feet and wade through the clutter, Serik is scrambling away from the bars of his cell. He drops to the floor, tucks his goldwork cloak around himself, and yells, “How thoughtful of you to feed me more than once today.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t bring anything to eat,” I say, holding out my empty hands.
“Enebish?” Serik spins around. His eyes narrow into slits instead of crinkling into the crescent moons I adore.
“You could at least pretend to be happy to see me.”
“Happy is the last thing I feel. You shouldn’t be here. You said—”
“I said I’d consider leaving, but we both knew I wouldn’t.”
“Why in the skies not?”
I groan and lean against the bars. I’m too tired to hash this out again. “Serik, please don’t be angry with me.”
“It’s not you I’m angry with. I can’t bear to be the shackle around your neck. I don’t want you aiding these traitors because of me.” He shuffles over to the bars, the guilt in his eyes as heavy as wet, trampled snow. I reach out and squeeze his hand, so he knows I don’t regret my decision. I’d save him a thousand times over.
“Would you feel better if it weren’t only for you?” I say carefully.
Serik’s freckled face crumples and he retracts his hand. “Who else could it possibly be for? Certainly not them?”
“I ferried a group of deserters last night,” I admit. Better to plunge straight into icy water than attempt to wade in slowly.
A colorful array of curses flies from Serik’s mouth and he slams a fist against the bars. Then immediately winces. “Why would you do that?”
“To free you. And I wanted to see the war front for myself. We have to take a side.”
“No, we don’t. You and I can escape this place and—”
“And what? What can the two of us do alone?”
Serik looks down, muttering and massaging his knuckles.
“The conditions at the imperial encampments are appalling,” I say grimly. “Far worse than I could have imagined. Guards make constant rounds, but instead of defending against the Zemyans, they imprison our own troops. And the warriors are in dire condition—thin as bones, dressed in rags, and reeking of rot and infection.”
“Are you saying you believe their desertion is justified?” Serik demands.
I give a tiny shrug. “Enough that I’ve agreed to go on another mission …”
Serik drags his hand through his hair, which has sprouted into dense stubble. “They’re using you, Enebish. And you’re allowing it!”
“What am I supposed to do? Sit back and watch our warriors die? They’re weak and untrained, most of them younger than us. They have no prayer of surviving in battle. But if they come here and receive treatment and proper training—”
“It can’t be as bad as the Shoniin claim.”
“It’s worse. I saw it with my own eyes. And the Zemyans have taken Ivolga—they’re halfway to Sagaan. If we don’t act now, Ashkar will fall.”
“Tell me, how exactly does stealing imperial warriors strengthen our cause on the battlefield?”
I quickly explain Temujin’s plan to increase the Shoniin’s numbers and join forces with Ghoa and the Sky King, but Serik’s frown deepens with every word.
“Ghoa refuses to let us help her buckle her chest plate, and we’re her family. She’ll die before accepting the help of deserters.”
“But she also serves the people. She wouldn’t condemn them for the sake of her pride.”
“Wouldn’t she? Maybe we should ask Orbai how far Ghoa’s willing to go….”
“I have to do something.” My voice cracks, and Serik’s expression softens.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t help the people. Just don’t help Temujin and his Shoniin. Everything about them, and this place, feels off. Unnatural. Don’t you feel it?”
“That feeling is the Lady of the Sky. Her power is abundant here, but you don’t recognize it because you’re a heathen.” I tweak his nose and manage a cheeky smile.
Serik bats me away. “I’m serious, En. If something seems too good to be true, it usually is. I’ve heard snatches of suspicious conversations. Things about cannons and rations and—”
“Is it so hard for you to believe people can be good without an agenda?” I interrupt. “Are you that bitter and jaded?”
“Are you that gullible? Anyone so blatantly ‘noble’ should be suspect. I don’t have a clue what the Shoniin are truly up to, but I know desertion is wrong. This rebellion is wrong.”
“Then how do we help? We’re two people against Zemya and the Imperial Army. And I’m Enebish the Destroyer. The people won’t even look at me, let alone follow me.”
Serik reaches through the bars and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Heat blooms across my scarred cheek, following the warm trail of his fingertips. He lifts my chin, and when our eyes meet, he looks at me with the same intensity and tenderness he did at Qusbegi—a look that makes my skin itchy and my throat impossibly tight.
“Don’t call yourself that,” he murmurs. “And don’t think like that either. We’ll find a way. Once I’m free from this skies-forsaken prison, we can—”
The door creaks open and Inkar’s voice rattles through the dust and dark. “Wrap it up. They’re coming.”
Serik’s hand falls away from my face. “What does she mean wrap it up? You ferried the deserters. You fulfilled your end of the bargain. I should be released.”
“I know, but plans changed slightly when the Zemyans took Ivolga. The Shoniin don’t trust us not to flee if you’re released, but if I prove myself by ferrying a few more groups of recruits, and if you try to be slightly cooperative—”
Serik barks out a laugh but it doesn’t sound like laughter at all. “If this doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about these people, I don’t know what will.”
“I need you to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Serik counters. “Ever since Ghoa betrayed you, you’ve acted like a dog searching for a new master.”
The barb stings like a mouthful of mountain thistle and I flinch. “That isn’t true, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I wasn’t finished. You don’t need a master, Enebish. Be your own hero. You can save yourself—and me—but only if you open your eyes.”
“Trust me,” I say again. Because for the first time in my life, I feel like my eyes are finally open.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I COLLAPSE FACEDOWN ON MY BEDROLL AND SLEEP LIKE THE dead, too exhausted to dream. Temujin collects me what feels like minutes later, though more than twenty-four hours have somehow passed.
“Your rendezvous with Kartok is farther south, which means it will take two days to return to the Ram’s Head.” Temujin rattles off instructions while I rub the sleep from my eyes. “It’s too risky for you to trav
el by day, so you must find a secure hiding spot near water and arrange a meet-up with Chanar’s ration raiders.”
I nod when I’m supposed to and manage a few grunts that sound like agreement, but all the while Serik’s cynical laughter plays in my ears. His disappointed face hovers at the edges of my vision.
Would it kill you to believe in something? I want to shout at him across the Eternal Blue. To believe in me?
Guilt wallops me over the head a breath later.
You don’t need a master. Be your own hero.
Serik does believe in me. Just not how I want him to. Not how I need him to.
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Temujin cocks a concerned brow at me.
“Yes, sorry. I’m just—”
“If it’s too much too soon, we can find another way,” Temujin offers. But his voice is small and he can’t meet my eyes.
I stand and pull on my greaves. “We both know there’s no other way.”
When I arrive at the rendezvous point, I find Kartok huddled in a gully thick with scrub oak. His brown cloak and tunic blend so perfectly with the decaying leaves, I see the breath ghosting from his lips before I see the man himself. I dismount and settle into the weeds beside him, shocked anew at the pallor of his skin—so white, it’s nearly blue from cold. This far south, less snow covers the ground, but the wind is far more punishing, whistling through the slot canyons and stripping the last of the leaves from the trees.
“Took you long enough.” He blows into his hands. “I was beginning to think you left me to freeze to death.”
“I’m sorry. The ride was long and my legs kept cramping. I had to take breaks. Do you want to build a fire?”
He levels a glare at me and points across the flat, barren field, in the middle of which sits a sprawling fort surrounded by tall wooden walls. There’s nothing else for leagues and leagues, not even a gnarled tree.
“Have you forgotten?” I snap my fingers and momentarily blacken the sky directly over us. “I promise they won’t see a thing.”
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