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

This is how it feels to be magic-barren. Then something tightens deep within me and the night billows outward, rolling over the sandy waterway between the marshlands and dunes. Swallowing the rosy-pink morning—and the scout.

“We have to stop them!” I take off running and trip immediately. My body is weak and woozy. The cypress roots entangle my bad leg.

Serik appears at my right, breathing heavily. At least a dozen other shepherds flank my left. Lalyne and Azamat and Iree and Bultum. All united for the first time since leaving the grazing lands.

“Throw your starfire at them!” Azamat shouts.

The scout’s still in range, stumbling through the last of the flute reeds. If they reach the sand dunes, they’ll run for leagues, unhindered by the marshland’s rocks and trees. We’ll never catch them. Not even with the darkness.

“Finish them!” Iree cries.

“Quickly!” Bultum agrees.

I choke on an agonized wail. They’re right. I should bring the stars down on the scout. But I can’t because Orbai flies directly over their head, trailing the scout how she used to trail me.

“What are you waiting for?” Lalyne demands.

They don’t know what Orbai means to me. They won’t understand. “We’re still in the marshlands.” I grasp for an excuse. “Do you think King Ihsan will join our cause if I lay fire to his kingdom?”

“Enebish.” Serik whirls around, his face drained of color, his expression grief-stricken. “Orbai would understand—”

“No!” I sob. I can’t kill my bird. I can’t.

And Kartok knows it.

Help me. I fall to my knees, begging the Lady of the Sky to intervene.

“I’ll do it.” Ziva emerges from the back of the group, her hand already thrust heavenward.

A bout of nausea grips me. “You can’t even fill your palms with darkness! There’s no way you can—”

Ziva smashes her fist into the sand with an earsplitting scream. Above us, a blinding crimson star streaks across the golden morning, speeding toward the scout.

And Orbai.

My heart thrashes. The world blurs, as if trapped behind a pane of ice. I don’t consciously choose to summon another star, but suddenly it’s there, scorching my hand, and I throw it.

Not at the scout, but at Ziva’s volatile strike.

“What are you doing?” The shepherds cry and cover their heads as the bolts of starfire collide.

The explosion is more violent than anything I’ve ever experienced. Even more devastating than when I laid fire to the Sky Palace. The sky bursts with light, a hundred times brighter than the sun. White fire and popping sparks shred through the blanket of blackness. A second later a boom shakes the earth, bringing everyone else to their knees. I half expect the ground to fall away completely. It feels like the world is splitting in two. Devouring itself.

As torrents of ash fall, the ground settles with a groan and the brightness fades. My vision returns just in time to watch the Shoniin scout reach the crest of the dune. They turn, wave their bloody memento from King Minoak, and vanish into the desert, Orbai screeching behind them.

I cough and droop back to the boggy ground. It feels like handfuls of wool have been shoved in my ears. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to block out the shepherds’ rage.

“You’re completely out of control!” Lalyne rants.

“They’ll come for us now.” Iree tries, and fails, to gain his feet. “You’ve condemned our families to death!”

“Ziva’s starfire was unstable,” I say desperately. “It could have obliterated us. I had to counteract the threat….”

My voice trails off as the words register: I had to counteract the threat.

It’s exactly what Ghoa said to me at Nariin.

I press my cheek into the wet sand and take big, gasping breaths.

“Her starfire didn’t look any more unstable than yours,” Bultum says.

“I can’t believe you’d rather sacrifice these innocent people than give me a chance,” Ziva spits out, her voice razor-sharp.

“That isn’t it….” I drape my arm over my face, as if blocking out the horrors will change what happened. “It had nothing to do with you, Ziva, and everything to do with my eagle.”

It’s the truth. And the exact wrong thing to say.

Iree’s eyes do that bulging thing again, coming even closer to bursting than they did over the stolen rations. Which seems like such a trivial squabble now. “The eagle?” He points at the empty morning sky. “You sacrificed us all for a bird?”

“No, that came out wrong.” I cast Serik a pleading look, begging him to step in and defend me like he always has, but he continues staring off into the desert, his brow furrowed and jaw tight. As if he’s angry. Or disappointed. But how can he be? He’s the only one who knows what Orbai means to me. And it truly was the safest option. Ziva’s dangerous and untrained.

“We should have known better than to follow Enebish the Destroyer!” The shepherds continue to hound me. “Add a thousand more lives to your death count!”

I should stay quiet—nothing I say will help—but I can’t take their derision and mistrust and ingratitude for another skies-forsaken second. “I didn’t want to come this way!” Angry words dart from my lips like a colony of agitated bees, stinging everything in sight. “I knew the Shoniin would be watching this road. And I warned you. But, once again, no one trusts my judgment.”

“For good reason!” Ziva flings her hand at the sky, where ghostly strands of smoke still stain the blue.

I laugh bitterly and turn away, furious that they could be so obtuse, exhausted from constantly defending myself, and overwhelmed by the horrible possibility that there’s a parcel of truth to their accusations. Despite my good intentions, my efforts always do seem to result in the loss of innocent lives. I am Enebish the Destroyer no matter what I do.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, my voice small and breaking. But no one answers. I don’t know if it’s because they didn’t hear me or because they’re choosing not to hear me. Either way, I give up and direct silent pleas to the Lady and Father instead. They’re the