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

have a hard time believing They’re physical beings I can have a conversation with. Not when They ignored me for so long. It feels disingenuous that They suddenly ‘care’ when They need me. And I feel insincere, suddenly pouring out my heart to Them now that I have what I want.”

“So how do you worship?”

Serik’s cheeks redden and he can’t stop fiddling with his hands. “It’s still new…. I’m not even sure—”

“Please, Serik. I want to understand.”

He bites his lip. “I burn things.”

“Of course that would be spiritual for you.” I laugh and shake my head.

“Not like you’re thinking. I don’t blow things up. When I was frustrated during the early days of our trek from the winter grazing lands, I started burning notches in the side of a cart, to mark the days. But every time I cut a notch, I felt something—something I couldn’t describe. Not a voice talking to me. More like a weight being lifted. Like I put my fears and grievances into the fire, and they were scorched away.”

“That’s … beautiful, Serik. Will you show me?”

He starts to nod, but then hesitates, his expression almost shy. “It’s weird to know you’re just sitting there, watching me.”

“Let’s worship together, each in our own way.” I kneel, clasp my hands, and imagine the soft felt body of my prayer doll nestled between them. I press my forehead to the ground, and after a silent minute or two the smell of smoke fills my nose.

I peek. I can’t help myself.

Serik stands before the dresser, eyes closed, as he draws his finger along the top of the polished willow. The marks instantly blacken like a brand, and as the smoke hisses up, his body sways forward. Bending as he unburdens himself. When he straightens again, he stands a little taller than before.

I get so caught up in the rhythm, I lose track of the words whispering from my own lips. But there’s no denying we are two instruments playing in harmony, even more beautiful and complementary because of our differences.

When we finally finish and he helps me up, I don’t have to ask what his higher power told him. It’s burned across the surface of the dresser—the ten sigils of the Kalima that Ziva described. Symbols Serik couldn’t have known.

“Incredible.” I trail my fingers through the still-warm grooves.

Serik’s hand covers mine, tracing the image of the Sun Stoker with me. “We should let Ghoa and the prince warn the Kalima, but it’d be unwise to send them alone.”

I nod. “We could escort them to the rendezvous point, but we can’t just leave the Chotgori….” The words Ghoa screamed at the prince replay in my head: Who cares about the Chotgori when the gods themselves are in danger?

But she should care. We all should. The Kalima will be far more likely to heed our warning and consider an alliance if at least part of the Protected Territories are present and committed. Otherwise, we’ll look like exactly what we are—a band of homeless, wandering shepherds led by Enebish the Destroyer and two fledgling Kalima warriors.

Even if the Chotgori decide they want nothing to do with us, I can’t bring myself to leave them. Not after seeing them suffering in the mines. Not when we’re right here. And not when Ghoa could make freeing them so much easier. With her help, it won’t be nearly as dangerous.

Serik catches my eye, and the grin that lifts the corners of his lips confirms he’s thinking the same thing. “Ghoa can’t expect our help without offering something in return,” he says. “As Commander of the Kalima warriors, she should know all good treaties require compromise.”

CHARTER TWENTY-FIVE

GHOA

“YOU EXPECT ME TO DO WHAT?”

I laugh so hard, I inhale the spices strewn across the shelves of the otherwise empty pantry where they’ve “imprisoned” us. Pepper and cinnamon invade my nostrils, which is exactly as unpleasant as it sounds. Three violent sneezes grip me, and Enebish and Serik wait for me to stop heaving before they speak.

“Help us free the Chotgori laborers and we’ll allow you to continue on to the Kalima,” Serik says again, as if the problem is with my hearing.

“Oh, you’ll allow me to go, will you?” I say with a cutting laugh.

Ivandar repositions abruptly, slamming my side into the shelving. “It sounds like a reasonable request.”

“It’s not,” I snap. “We don’t have time, and those workers won’t help us protect the gods.”

“But they will!” Enebish delves into an impassioned speech, but I stop listening. The Chotgori won’t help me reclaim my position. They’ll be nothing but a nuisance. And I’m done doing favors. Ivandar’s list of my “noble” actions has been looping in my head for the better part of the day, cynical and taunting.

I stab my filthy nails into my thigh, my mind sharpening with the pain. “You realize I could leave this sorry prison anytime I want to?”

Enebish and Serik fold their arms and press their sides together in the doorway. As if that will stop me from barreling through them.

“If you could escape so easily, why haven’t you?” Enebish demands.

Because I want the glory of capturing all of you. Except that isn’t entirely true. When I first saw Enebish, I wasn’t thinking about capturing or annihilating anyone. There was only that voice deep inside me—that feeling—forcing me to my knees. Commanding me to stay my hand.

But I’m obviously not about to admit any of that.

“I exercised restraint for the greater good of Ashkar,” I say instead. “Our journey will be safer and faster under the cover of darkness.”

“You expect me to assist you freely after everything you’ve done?” Enebish slams her palm against the door frame.

Ivandar jumps. I don’t.

“Your gods are in danger, and you could save them,” I say, my voice as sweet as the honey crusted on the floor. “You’re the one who’ll have to live with the consequences if you choose not to help.”

“We’re not foolish enough to release you,” Serik cuts in. “So the only way you’re getting