“You’re even more deluded than I am if you believe such empty promises! We’ve been at war with the Zemyans for centuries. There will be consequences. Fallout. And you can’t honestly expect me to believe you care a whit about ‘worshiping the Lady of the Sky in peace’ after making such a mockery of Her. Pretending to be Goddess-touched! Calling this despicable world of Zemyan magic the realm of the Eternal Blue!”
Temujin bites his lip and looks down, spinning the rings on his hands. “I’d like to think the Lady of the Sky understands. That She approves of my dedication and diligence.”
The words he scrawled into his Book of Whisperings reappear in my mind with a new meaning: Are we ever beyond redemption?
I shake my head and scoff.
He hadn’t written them for me. He had been thinking only of himself.
“I had to recruit people to our cause,” he explains when I say nothing, “and this was the only way I could think to gain support.”
“And do you expect to keep their support once they know you’re a lying, treasonous heretic?”
He flinches slightly, then makes a point of sitting taller. “I do. As it stands, the majority of our ranks are Zemyan and the rest are people like Chanar, who have been wronged by the Sky King and are desperate for vengeance and change. The few who have been deceived will fall in line. They can’t be too angry, when we’re clearly in the right. The people adore us. We have been providing rations and clothing and shelter and protection….”
“How silly of me to think you were doing those things out of genuine concern,” I mutter.
“Of course it’s out of genuine concern! Everything I do is for the people. Can’t you see that? I’m not the villain.” He takes a steadying breath. “This is the best way, the only way. Under this new regime, the people will finally be free and well cared for. Her Noble Excellency has even offered us a gift as a show of her goodwill.”
“The only gift Empress Danashti will offer us after so many years of war is an extermination order.”
“You’re wrong. She’s promised us access to their enchanted hot springs. To Zemyan magic. We can all partake and become sorcerers. We can all be blessed with a gift, rather than a chosen few. No more distinctions. No more exploitation of the magic-barren. Everyone will be able to defend themselves.”
I gape at him. Of all the preposterous drivel he’s spat at me, this is by far the worst. “Do you honestly think the Lady of the Sky would approve of that? You claim to follow Her but have no regard for Her judgment!”
“She must approve.” Temujin raises his hands in the world’s most condescending shrug. “Would this plan be succeeding if it weren’t Her will?”
I bite down hard on my lip. I want to argue, but how can I? Clearly I don’t know the mind or will of the Goddess. As far as I can tell, She led me into this trap.
“Ashkar is changing for the better, Enebish, and I’m begging you to help us. To cast your lot with the winning side. My side. I need you.” He gently takes my hand and flashes that silvery grin that used to make my toes curl. Now it only makes me feel cold. And sick.
I yank my hand away and spit on his perfectly polished boots. “The charade is up. No need to act like you care for me.”
“I do care for you.”
“You’re right—you care about how you can use me.”
Temujin blinks and fumbles for words. It’s probably the first time in his life his charm hasn’t gotten him exactly what he wanted. The thought brings the tiniest smile to my lips.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth and stands, looming over me. “I didn’t want it to be this way, but you will help us. Whether by your own choice or by force.” He nods to the rows of urns. “You, Enebish the Destroyer, will lead us into Sagaan under a cover of darkness and batter the Imperial Army with a deluge of starfire.”
“Don’t call me that,” I say, enunciating each word carefully. “I am not responsible for Nariin. I am not a monster.”
“I believe you, of course, but the people won’t—not after your little performance today … blazing your starfire through the Grand Courtyard, setting the Sky Palace aflame. How much more monstrous can it get?”
Roaring with frustration, I kick at Temujin’s ankles. Under normal circumstances, he could easily dodge my foot, but he’s still weak from the hanging and the ground rolls with ceaseless tremors. I sweep his legs out from under him and brim with wicked satisfaction as he crashes into a jade pillar. I relish the crack of his head against the stone.
When he pushes to his elbows, a dribble of blood seeps from his forehead. “You can’t say I didn’t try,” he mutters as he wipes his brow and clambers to his feet. “I wanted you to be one of us. Kartok’s offer will not be so generous.”
“At least it will be honest!” I shout as Temujin limps away like the mangy dog he is.
Kartok doesn’t come for several hours, knowing I will count every minute, sweat every second.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he calls as he finally glides toward the temple. “There’s much to do. Planning the siege of a capital takes a monstrous amount of effort. And I wanted to give you plenty of time to digest all that’s happened. To consider your options …” He chuckles, because I clearly have no options. He leans over me, and his artificial skin sags. A fist-sized chunk of flesh droops from his chin like melted wax, revealing the pale-haired, cunning-eyed stranger beneath.
The true Kartok.
Kartok the Zemyan sorcerer.
The loss of my pockmarked friend brings an unexpected pang.
“I’m afraid it’s a bit of a mess when the magic unravels.” Kartok gestures to his face. “But all will be set to right soon enough.”
I shudder and turn over. Nothing will be right while he is in Ashkar.
“What? No sad stories or tender musings to share with me today, Destroyer? I grew so fond of our little heart-to-hearts.”
“There’s nothing left to say,” I grind out. “You’ve made your intentions perfectly clear. As have I. I won’t help you—at least not willingly.” My eyes flick to the rows and rows of massive urns behind the altar, wishing I could bring every star crashing from the heavens to obliterate them.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. You will help us. Happily and voluntarily.”
“Never.”
Kartok shrugs. “Have you seen your eagle lately?”
I roll over with a growl. “What have you done to her? Leave Orbai alone!”
“No need to be feral.” Kartok tuts his tongue. “Or they really will think you’re a monster.” He places two fingers in his mouth and whistles.
Several seconds later Orbai’s shadow smudges the sky. I sigh with relief as she wings into the temple and turns a tight circle around the altar. I wait for her to alight on the ground beside me and nibble the ropes around my wrists. But she flies over me without a glance and lands on Kartok’s arm.
He offers her a nut, which she happily takes. “So hungry, this one.”
I gape at Orbai on Kartok’s arm, my mouth dry, my ears ringing. She despises strangers.
“Get your hands off my bird!” I bellow. The ground is bucking beneath me, but I buck even harder. Desperate to reach Orbai. To get the Zemyan’s filthy hands off her.
“If she’s your bird,” Kartok says, “call her.”
“What are you talking about? Of course she’s my bird!”
“Call her.”
“This is ridiculous,” I snarl, but I steady my voice and call her name. When she doesn’t budge, I call again. Louder. I cluck my tongue and whistle, but Orbai simply cocks her head and gazes at me with vacant yellow eyes. As if I’m the stranger. “What have you done to her?”
Kartok strokes Orbai’s back. “What do you suppose Loridium is made of? Surely not the tears of Father Guzan …”
I think back to the little leather chest, to the black powder and green liquid—I had never seen anything like it. “You poisoned her with your vile Zemyan magic.”
&nb
sp; “No, I saved her with my ‘vile Zemyan magic.’ But magic has a price. It’s only fair I get something in return … such as loyalty.’”
“You can’t fabricate loyalty. It has to be earned.”
“Can’t I?” He looks at Orbai with genuine pride, and I can’t refute his claim because she’s been drifting from me for weeks now, growing less and less responsive as his sorcery tainted her. Shifting her allegiance. “She lives because of me, which is why she is now bound to me. As is Temujin. As you soon will be.” He sets Orbai on the altar, removes the chest from his cloak, and places it beside her.
My heart skips a panicked beat. “But I’m not dying.”
“That can be easily fixed.” A curved blade whips from Kartok’s sleeve, as fast and efficient as when he disposed of the guards at the fort. He brings the serrated edge beneath my chin and I try to scream, but my voice no longer works. A bright burst of pain pricks beneath my jawbone. I tense, waiting for it to slash across my throat. Waiting for a curtain of blood to spill down my tunic. But a boom as loud as cannon fire rends the air.
Even larger swells roll across the fields and crash through the temple like waves. The knife slips from Kartok’s hand and he collides with the nearest pillar. I’m thrown backward, into the altar. I gasp, savoring the air that hits my lungs because it means my throat is miraculously still in one piece. Plaster crackles from the domed ceiling. The mosaic floor beneath me shatters, spitting shards of jeweled teeth. A second later a pulse of heat ripples the sky, followed by a blinding burst of light.
Through raining fragments of stone, I watch the colorful Shoniin encampment explode in the valley below. The gauzy tents crumple. Plumes of dust and debris geyser into the air. Blue flames from the bonfire flash across the field of globeflowers. Spreading. Devouring.
Kartok wheels around, clutching his head and spitting Zemyan oaths. “It wasn’t supposed to collapse so quickly.” He sprints toward the encampment without sparing a glance for me. Orbai follows with a screech.
“Wait!” I beg, but she’s already gone, winging into the smoke.
I watch the flames billow higher, raging across the field with unnatural speed. The temple will be surrounded in minutes.
Move, Enebish.
I roll to my stomach and fling myself forward. Shards from the broken floor rake my arms like claws, and I position myself on top of a particularly large fragment of ruby. As I pitch myself forward and back, the serrated edge slowly saws the rope. When it finally snaps, I fumble with bloody fingers to untie the binding around my ankles. Then I climb to my feet and spin a circle, surveying the inferno. Even from the top of the hill, heat laps my face. Smoke strangles me with its noxious fingers, and my heart pounds wildly at the sheer impossibility of what I have to do: cross the fiery fields, steal a portal stone from the decimated encampment without being caught, and make it to the gateway before I’m burned to a crisp.
Hysterical laughter pours from my lips as I limp for the stairs, but I halt on the final step and glance back at the urns—filled with my darkness and starfire.
I can’t just leave them.
A true warrior would never save themselves and condemn the rest of Ashkar.
Wheeling back around, I lower my shoulder and run at the pots. I slam against the largest obsidian urn, but it doesn’t so much as rattle. I push and heave and kick at every pot down the line, but it’s as if they’re glued to the floor with mortar. When I try to reach my hand inside, my fingers smash against an invisible barrier.
I scream and fall to my knees, burying my face in my hands.
“This is no time to be praying, Enebish,” a familiar voice scolds.
Shivers flash down my body, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m hearing things now. Imagining the impossible.
“Do I have to carry you out of here? I’m strong enough, of course, but it would be faster if you’d—”
I bolt up from the floor and a wail bursts from my lips when a face materializes through the smoke—freckled cheeks covered in black powder, hazel eyes squished into half-moon crescents.
“Miss me?” Serik attempts a devious grin but it wobbles at the edges, becoming earnest and apologetic.
It feels like a punch to the gut. Like coming home.
An eternity passes before I find my voice, and even then, it’s so small and warbling it sounds nothing like me. “You’re alive.”
He vaults up the steps and crushes me in an embrace. “I’m alive.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I BURY MY FACE IN THE HOLLOW OF HIS NECK AND INHALE the familiar scents of parchment and pine ink. I twine my fists in his crimson robe and melt into the warmth of his arms, my skin smoldering at every point of contact.
He’s real.
Alive.
“How?” I blubber. “Ghoa said you were dead. I saw the papers….”
Serik huffs out an indignant breath and rolls his eyes, and the reaction is so unapologetically him, I laugh through welling sobs.
“I’m offended you think Ghoa could kill me so easily. I have always been the stronger cousin—or the more cunning cousin, anyway. Give me a little credit.” His eyes sparkle, drinking me in as if I’m a pitcher of cool water on a scorching day.
“But she had your cloak! And if you weren’t dead, where have you been all this time? How did you open the gateway?”
“As eager as I am to regale you with details of my daring escape and this ingenious rescue, we need to get a move on. I sort of blew up the Shoniin’s encampment, and that fire will wait for no one.” He points to the cerulean blaze, rushing ever closer.
“That was you?” I slap my forehead. “Of course it was you. But how? It would take a dozen cannons to create an explosion like that.”
“That … is also an explanation for another time. We have a lot to catch up on.” Serik flashes his most squinty-eyed smile, grabs my hand, and pulls me down the temple steps. The air around us burns like an oven, nearly too hot to breathe.
When we reach the bottom of the hill, Serik stops and looks back. “Where’s Orbai?”
“She isn’t coming.” My voice wobbles and I can’t meet Serik’s eyes. I wave him forward, but he digs his heels in like the stubborn mule he is.
“Why not?”
“Just go!”
He searches my watery eyes for a long second, then nods grimly.
Muffled wails puncture the roar of the blaze as we race across the fields to the gateway. Shadows weave and dart through the smoke, and I swear I feel the brush of fingers at one point. Whether the Shoniin are hunting us, or racing for the portal themselves, I’d rather not find out.
When we reach the top of the crest, I fold into a cough. The smoke is so oppressive, I can hardly see Serik and his face is a hand’s breadth from mine. “How will we get out? How did you get in?”
“After you gave me that portal stone, I took a little detour through camp and snatched a few more before fleeing this hellhole. I wasn’t about to leave you behind without taking insurance.” He shakes his cloak and a handful of blue portal stones rattle inside the pocket. Just like the alms money he stole from the abba to buy our winterberry pies at Qusbegi.
“You’re brilliant,” I say as he tosses a stone into the air.
“Try not to sound so surprised. Monks can be just as dashing as deserters. Maybe even more so.”
Cries flare up behind us when the gateway sparks into existence—blinding white against the burning blue. Serik and I dive through the portal, and I offer up a prayer to the Lady of the Sky, begging Her to seal it before the Shoniin follow.
We tear across the empty Ram’s Head and out onto the murky streets of Sagaan. It should be bitter cold, but the heat from the inferno has followed us through the realms. I’m breathing so hard and sweating so much, I may never be cold again.
When we reach the nearest intersection, we turn an aimless circle. The royal complex looms to our left, where Ghoa and the king are undoubtedly plotting my capture and death. The grasslands extend to
our right, where the Zemyans are advancing, trampling our magic-barren warriors like wilted globeflowers. And the tavern is behind us—a cocoon of wickedness, bursting at the seams. It won’t be long before Kartok and Temujin spill into the city and claim it for Empress Danashti.
I steal a nervous glance over my shoulder. “What now?”
Serik shrugs. “I was hoping you might contribute a few ideas. This is as far as my plan extended.”
“Only you would storm into battle with a half-formed plan.”
“It’s worked, hasn’t it? There’s something to be said for the element of surprise.”
“You are nothing if not surprising,” I agree as I scan the empty streets. The city is so quiet, it feels deserted. Every shutter is drawn, every door barred. The braziers lining the roads are dark and cold. Everyone has gone to ground after the horrors that unfolded at Temujin’s execution. I don’t blame them. The Sky Palace still pulses like an ember in the dark, the ravaged timbers glowing like shards of exposed bone.
A knot lodges in my throat.
They are hiding from me. From Enebish the Destroyer.
I am not the enemy! I want to shout the truth so loud that they can hear it clear from the icy tundra of Chotgor all the way down to the deserts of Verdenet: Temujin has betrayed you. The Sky King has forsaken you.
But saying it won’t change their minds. I have to prove it. Show them.
Save them, somehow.
Not knowing what else to do, I lead Serik down an alleyway and stitch the night around us. “We have to make a plan,” I say, pacing the narrow space. “Temujin and Kartok are going to lay siege to Sagaan. They have my darkness and starfire. We have to protect the people, get them out of the city, but they will never follow me after what I did to the Sky Palace. Especially not without Temujin. And if we don’t find shelter tonight, we’ll freeze to death. Even though I still feel like I’m burning alive—”
“Take a breath, En.” Serik steps into my path and puts his hands on my shoulders, which only makes me hotter.
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