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

at me. She looks so different without her sleek ponytail, gleaming armor, and rattling sabers.

“You know what,” I insist.

“No. I don’t.”

I gesture to the slick snow beneath us. “The ground is notably harder than before.”

“Probably because we’re traveling north. Where it’s colder.” Her voice is clipped, but a mischievous twinkle lights her eyes.

Or am I imagining it?

“You’re not helping us by freezing the ground?” I ask.

“Why would I do that?”

That isn’t an answer, but she expects me to interpret it as one. “Do you remember when you froze the Amereti River when we returned to Sagaan after quelling Chotgor? The entire city celebrated on the ice that day instead of the royal complex. There was skating and races and flavored ice desserts.”

Ivandar smiles. “How lovely.”

I’d almost forgotten he was there, on Ghoa’s other side.

She shoves the prince’s shoulder and looks at me through slitted eyes. “Of course I remember … but I don’t see what it has to do with anything.”

I shrug and say, “Maybe it doesn’t.” Knowing Ghoa will hear: Maybe it does. Maybe you had no reason to do something kind for the common people. But you did.

“Do you remember when I framed you for Nariin?” she says in response, blasting it at me like a cannonball. “Or when I was prepared to execute you alongside Temujin?”

She’s doing it to throw me off balance, to regain the offensive. I don’t bite. “But you didn’t.”

“Momentary weakness.”

“You seem to be having a lot of ‘moments’ these days … taking pity on Zemyan princes, saving gods you don’t believe in, betraying your own warriors to free people you enslaved.”

“Why does everyone insist on reminding me of my bad choices?” Ghoa growls, and now there’s no denying the ground is harder. “Trust me, if I had other options, I’d be pursuing them.”

“Why come at all? Why bother saving the First Gods? That’s what I can’t understand,” I press.

“I told you. I have no interest in being stripped of my power.”

“Except you’ve always believed your power is born within you … so eliminating the First Gods should have no bearing on that, right?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore. Is that what you want me to say?” she bites back, prompting the shepherds and Chotgori within hearing distance to stare.

She drags her fingers through the uneven ends of her short hair, looking more distressed than I’ve ever seen her. Like the most grueling battle of her life is waging inside her head and, somehow, she’s losing, despite commanding both sides.

“I want you to say what’s true. Not what you think I want to hear,” I say once everyone’s looked away.

“Okay, I believe I’m losing my mind. Happy?”

“Maybe a little. I’m not used to seeing you this off-kilter.”

“And I’m not used to seeing you so assured. You always did want to be a leader, though, didn’t you?” she jabs, alluding to my ambitions. When she claimed I’d tried to take her position as commander, even though it wasn’t yet hers.

I laugh—long, bitter chuckles that make my belly ache. That quarrel feels like so long ago. “I only wanted to be a leader until I discovered how exhausting and terrible it is. If I could go back, I would do so many things differently.”

Ghoa holds out her palm, catching the tiny snowflakes spiraling down from the low-hanging clouds, and stares at them indignantly. I presume it means she’s done talking to me, so I’m surprised when she says, “Me too.”

It isn’t an apology, and I don’t expect one. Nor would I accept it. Far too much has happened to mend the rift between us. But the divide doesn’t have to be filled with hatred.

“Why is your eagle in that cage?” Ghoa nods at Orbai, who’s screeching and flapping as wildly as ever. “She clearly doesn’t like it.”

Stabbing pain drills into my chest again. “It’s the only way to keep her here,” I admit.

“Trouble in paradise?” Ghoa taunts, which earns her a reproving look from Ivandar.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the fact that the Zemyan prince is here, with us. Every time he speaks, I hear Kartok in his voice. When he removes his shirt, I flinch at the jarring whiteness of his torso. Though, he’s not without his uses. His scowls and nudges do miraculously seem to penetrate Ghoa’s iron-thick skin.

“Orbai’s just going through a difficult phase,” I mutter.

“Perhaps she’s smarter than I gave her credit for.” Ghoa watches my eagle. “Even she can see the folly of your mission.”

“Heading to the Kalima’s rendezvous point is your mission,” I remind her. “And Orbai doesn’t doubt me. She doesn’t have a choice.”

“Why is that?” she asks dubiously.

I don’t owe Ghoa any sort of explanation, but the words gush from me like a geyser: “Orbai had to be healed with Loridium in Kartok’s xanav after you nearly killed her. Now she’s tainted with his magic. Bound to him—until I find a way to reverse it.”

I don’t know how I expected Ghoa to react—to scoff and scorn like always, I suppose—but her brows pinch together and her hand slowly drifts up to her throat.

It’s Ivandar who eventually speaks. “What in the name of the Goddess is Loridium?”

“Medicine. Kartok keeps it in a small cedar chest. It’s black and green and smells of steel and soil. I figured it was common Zemyan magic….”

Ivandar shakes his head. “I’ve never seen or heard of anything of the sort.”

From what I’ve heard of his standing, this is probably because he was purposely left in the dark. Before I can think of a kind way to point this out, the sled in front of us skids to a halt, causing the sled behind it to ram into its runners. A series of collisions ripple through the tail of the caravan, and shouts of outrage flare up behind us. Though, they’re quickly overwhelmed by screams coming from the head of the group.

Serik’s at my side in an instant, boosting me up onto the nearest sled to get a better view.

I immediately