Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology), Addie Thorley [100 books to read in a lifetime txt] 📗

but everyone agreed we must lay careful groundwork. So the foundation of our new alliance is as immovable as the peaks of the Eternal Blue. We owe it to the thousands of people who perished fighting this endless war. And we owe it to ourselves, too.

The Chotgori clans, Namagaan soldiers, and shepherds who fled the ice caves arrive first, a mere four days after our summons. Readily flocking to join us, now that the danger has passed.

Almost all of Ashkar takes to the streets to welcome the clan leaders as they trudge in from the snowy grasslands, but I remain in the treasury. Inside Ghoa’s father’s office, where I find myself more and more often—when I’m not tasked with keeping the fragile peace between so many opinionated kings, that is. Or helping to rebuild the homes and shops that were destroyed by the Zemyans.

The rest of Sagaan is slowly beginning to unbury from the rubble, but this room remains untouched—utterly wrecked from the siege. Books and ledgers lie ripped and strewn across the floor, the furniture is hacked to pieces, and the broken window is covered with a tacked-up blanket. It’s cold and filthy and Serik and Ziva keep dropping less than subtle hints that my coming here is odd. Eerie. It’s where the Kalima betrayed Ghoa and where the Sky King perished.

But it’s also where Ghoa was reborn. If I kneel in the broken glass, still stained with blood, I can imagine how her ice bridge must have looked—white crystals spanning the blackness of the siege.

Sometimes I still don’t believe she sacrificed herself to save the First Gods. And sometimes I wish she hadn’t. It muddled everything. Colored the entire world in maddening shades of gray instead of stark black and white. I miss her and resent her. Love her and loathe her. The balance shifts by the day, sometimes by the hour—depending on how difficult the kings and Zemyans are being.

Serik stomps up the stairs and pokes his head through the door. “You’ve got to stop hiding out in here. Morbid obsession aside, it’s freezing. And it smells.”

I shrug. “I don’t mind the smell. And it’s easier than all of that.” I wave in the direction of the main thoroughfare, teeming with Ashkarians and Chotgori, with Namagaans and Zemyans. They all came together—exactly as I wanted—but not in the way I planned or expected. They were supposed to stand with me against Kartok and the Zemyans.

Not Ghoa.

“Since when do you make your decisions based on what’s easiest?” Serik asks. “And do you truly blame them for fleeing the ice caves?”

“No,” I groan as I gain my feet, knowing my resentment is unfair. My expectations were too high. It was naïve to think the Chotgori would charge into battle against Zemyan sorcerers when they were weak and traumatized from the ore mines. When they hardly knew us and had no reason to believe we would succeed. It’s a moot point besides; we still managed to save the gods without them. And if the Lady of the Sky can forgive them, I should do the same. I’m trying to do the same. I don’t want to reconstruct the fortress around my heart. I don’t want to let Kartok wound me anymore than he already has. Which is why I stitch a smile on my lips and plod across the room to join Serik, hoping I look contented. And hoping, even more, that I truly feel that way in time.

“Would it help if I told you the Chotgori brought you a gift?” Ziva appears behind Serik. I don’t know if she’s been there the entire time, hidden in the wisps of darkness that still respond to our call—though, they grow fewer by the day—or if she just bounded up the steps to join us.

I chuff out a laugh. “What could they possibly bring me?”

“If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise. Come on.” Ziva takes my hand and practically drags me down the stairs. Bouncing and giddy, even as her bandaged wounds continue to seep and dark exhausted circles hang beneath her eyes. She’s no longer a girl but not yet a queen. Caught between worlds, like so many of us. Hopefully, now that the war is over, she has time to find herself in both.

When we burst out into the courtyard, I squint skeptically at the long line of travelers until my gaze lands on a cart in the middle of the procession, on top of which sits a crude cage that holds the world’s most beautiful golden eagle.

“Orbai.” I choke on her name. I hadn’t let myself hope. I presumed the Chotgori would kill her after we disappeared into the realm of the Eternal Blue, the way Kartok was forcing her to behave. But she’s here, rumbling into the city, and I don’t know what’s flying faster, my legs or my heart.

I wrap my arms around Ziva and hug her tight. Then I elbow through the crowd, gaze fixed on my eagle’s flashing yellow eyes. Ears attuned to nothing but her high-pitched shriek as the cart clatters over ruts in the road.

Keep your head. Temper your expectations. Prepare for the worst, the logical part of me insists. But love cares little for logic. And faith cannot exist without hope. It’s probably wrong to beg for more after all of the miracles the First Gods have already performed, but I send a silent plea up to the Lady of the Sky anyway. Because this is the only thing I’ve ever asked for that’s wholly for myself. And because I know She cares about these seemingly small requests. She’s my mother and sister in every sense of the word.

I throw myself against the crude bars of Orbai’s cage, crying her name, wishing I could squeeze myself through the slats and bury my face in her feathers. Orbai lets out a deafening shriek, and the man pulling the cart trips and curses me. I ignore him. No one exists beyond me