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

STORM OUT OF KING IHSAN’S study, thin lipped and tight jawed, dragging Ziva behind them. As if the Marsh King’s decision to consider our proposal personally offends them. Ziva, on the other hand, pumps her fist and throws a triumphant smile at us as they tug her through the door.

“I don’t understand why they’re so angry,” I murmur to Serik as we follow them out into the muggy morning. The sun is already stabbing through the canopy, and a horde of ravenous mosquitos flock to us like the hummingbirds buzzing around the flower boxes. Serik smashes one of the long-legged insects between his palms and proudly opens his hands to show me the mangled carcass. Then he blows it toward Murtaugh’s and Yatindra’s backs.

“They’re like children, throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get their way. That vice chancellor, Murtaugh, thinks quite highly of himself. I doubt he’s ever supported a plan he didn’t come up with. And I doubt the king disagrees with him often. I almost feel sorry for Ziva’s aunt, being shackled to such an ornery narcissist.”

“Why do you think she’s so upset? You’d think she’d be grateful that Ihsan is considering lending aid to Minoak and Verdenet. Her brother and her country.”

“She’s probably just worried and overwhelmed,” Serik says as we start down the nearest rope bridge. It sways beneath our feet, and I grip the woven railing, terrified the flimsy thing is going to collapse. “Her brother was nearly assassinated and lies motionless in the infirmary, she must care for her strong-willed niece, and she just learned her home country is in peril.”

I nod as we watch the three of them vanish into another mansion several trees over, slamming the door behind them.

“Murtaugh’s a lost cause, but I think Yatindra will come around with time—and perhaps a little encouragement.” Serik peers over at me.

I narrow my eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing much. I just think now would be an excellent time to start training Ziva. Show the Namagaans the strength we have to offer as allies. And our willingness to share those advantages.”

I shove past Serik, purposely knocking him against the flimsy railing, and stomp to the next platform.

“Does that mean you’ll consider it?” He chases after me.

“It means your suggestion doesn’t merit a response. I’m not training Ziva. You saw how rash and unpredictable she is, throwing starfire when she doesn’t have the slightest idea how to control it. I won’t be responsible for that.”

“If you trained her, she would know not to do such things.”

I spear him with a death glare.

“And if she did,” he relents, “she would at least know how to do it safely. Just think about it, En. We’ve nearly accomplished what we set out to do, and this could cement the alliance. King Ihsan has agreed to investigate our claims, but he’s much more likely to view the findings in a good light if we appear invested.”

I whirl around and poke Serik in the chest. “What happens when the Shoniin and Zemyans show up before Ihsan’s scouts return? We both know they’re coming; we don’t have weeks to wait. And once they attack Namaag, nothing we’ve said or done will make a sheep’s dung worth of difference. So I’d rather not waste my time. Or compromise my integrity.”

“Keep your voice down,” Serik growls, pulling me away from the homes and shops built into the enormous trunk of the tree we’re in. All around us, Namagaans bustle about the day’s chores, so he leads me down another bridge, deeper into the canopy, where there are fewer ears to overhear. “We don’t know if or when the Shoniin and Zemyans are coming, so we proceed with the plan until then. It’s our only option. And you’ve required so many sacrifices of me and the shepherds, it would be nice if—”

I slam to a halt and gape at Serik, the bridge swinging erratically around us. “You don’t think I’ve made sacrifices?”

“I never said that.”

“That’s sure how it sounded….”

Serik drags his fingers through his hair and puffs out his freckled cheeks. “Burning skies, En. Of course you’ve made sacrifices. I just meant … Never mind. We should be celebrating the fact that King Ihsan agreed to consider our proposal, not fighting over Ziva. I’m sorry,” he adds as I resume limping across the bridge.

“I’m sorry too,” I grudgingly admit. “I just hate feeling like I’m disappointing you. I wish I could be the courageous mentor you want me to be. But I can’t.”

“You’re everything I want you to be,” Serik insists, reaching for my hand.

But the words sound as hollow as the flute reeds whistling in the swamp below, and I shove my hands into my pockets.

The shepherds don’t utter a word of complaint when Serik announces we’ll be staying in Namaag for a time. In fact, their joyous cries and jubilant hugs are nearly as excessive as when we first arrived in Uzul. It bothers me—even though I’m just as relieved. We desperately need the rest, and it’s a miracle King Ihsan is considering our proposal. But as I watch the shepherds gleefully unpack their trunks, unease burrows beneath my skin, hollowing me out like a brood of termites feeding on these ancient trees.

The need for my Book of Whisperings is bone-deep—a twisting pain in the center of my chest. With it, I could ask the First Gods directly what to do, if we’re still on the right path. I’d even be grateful for something as simple as a prayer doll. Anything to soften the razor edges of doubt. But since my Book of Whisperings was lost on the winter grazing lands, and my prayer doll burned in Kartok’s xanav, I have to find another way to commune with my gods.

“I’m going for a walk,” I tell Serik.

“Do you want some company?”

“Do you mind if I go alone? I just need a moment of quiet….” I nod at the shepherds, pressed all around us.

“Go. I’ll be