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

Silhouettes speckle the horizon—an army of imposing shadows, framed by the eerie red sunlight. The shepherds naïvely ask if it’s the Kalima, eager for our trek to be over—wouldn’t that be convenient? But even at a distance, I can tell there are far too many of them.

Which means it must be the Zemyans. Not the battalions from the war front—they couldn’t have marched so quickly. These are the Zemyans who invaded Sagaan. The ones I brought into Ashkar.

“Blazing, burning skies,” Serik whispers. “Why would they come this far north? They couldn’t have known the Kalima would be up here. Or us. Could they?”

The same panicked thoughts are whirring around my head. So loud, I can no longer hear the shepherds and Chotgori screaming.

I clench my fists, pulling the tendrils of darkness around our group, even though it’s likely too late.

“Is this your doing?” I glare down at Ivandar. “Was this your plan all along?”

He shakes his too-pale face. “No! I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

I give the night a firm tug to alert Ziva, who’s been walking with the other children. Instantly she joins her efforts with mine, thickening the walls of our defense.

“What do we do?” Serik murmurs low.

We knew we’d have to face Kartok and the Zemyans eventually, but I had hoped it would be after we warned the Kalima about the threat to the First Gods and convinced them to fight with us. After we gained the support of all three Protected Territories. This ragtag jumble was never supposed to go to battle. We could try to retreat, but we have nowhere to go. The Zemyan soldiers will easily overtake us.

“Stand your ground and prepare to meet them,” I command. “Ready any weapon you can find.”

The shepherds wail. The Chotgori exchange grim looks. And Serik gives a firm nod and raises his hands.

I don’t notice Ghoa climbing the sled until she’s suddenly there, beside me, hands poised to fight. It’s somehow fitting to have her on my right and Serik on my left. Facing our very possible end together—just as we began.

The Zemyans march closer.

My blood teems faster.

Give us strength, I beg the Lady and Father.

The Zemyans soldiers are mostly shadows, backlit by the sunset, but even still, we should be able to see the menacing white of their skin, the billowing strands of their silver-white hair. But they remain a smudge of unbroken brown no matter how I squint.

Because that’s the reality they want us to see.

“Flood the air with cold and strip them of their disguises,” I tell Ghoa.

“Gladly.” She flexes her fingers, but before the air fills with cold, a horn blares—a low, humming drone that’s unmistakable.

A kuzu horn. Used only in Verdenet—to summon soldiers to battle.

Goose bumps sweep over my entire body as it blares again.

Ziva drops the darkness. The ribbons slide through my fingers as well as she shoves through our caravan, screaming King Minoak’s name.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

GHOA

NOTHING SHOULD SURPRISE ME ANYMORE. BUT THE UNIVERSE or the First Gods or whatever force is commanding this continent saw fit to upend my world.

Again.

I stare, dumbfounded, as the kings of Verdenet and Namaag stride toward us, flanked by scores of Namagaan soldiers in vibrant orange uniforms.

“They came.” Enebish’s voice is a warbling tremor.

“They came!” Serik whoops and flings his arms in his loud, irritating manner. After which, he kisses Enebish’s scarred cheek and lifts her into an embrace that nearly sends them both tumbling over the side of the sled.

It’s overblown and exasperating, but Enebish smiles up at him—her cheeks flushed, her gaze tender—and reaches for his hand. Their feelings for each other have been nauseatingly obvious since we were children, which is precisely why I made a point to wedge myself between them. I wasn’t about to be the odd one out. Not when I brought them together in the first place.

But there isn’t a sliver of room left between them anymore, and not because they pushed me out. I pushed them away.

I push everyone away.

“What’s happening?” Ivandar asks. “What does this mean?”

“It means we did it!” Enebish exclaims. “Before coming to Chotgor, we tried to convince the Namagaans to rise with us against the empire and Zemya, but there was an unfortunate incident with Temujin and we were cast from the marshlands.”

“It’s always Temujin’s fault,” I mutter automatically, and the others laugh. The sound is surprisingly satisfying.

“Between Chotgor, Namaag, the shepherds, and hopefully the Kalima,” Enebish continues, “we’ll easily oust the imperial governor from Verdenet. We can reclaim our independence and rally against Zemya.”

Enebish is still holding tight to Serik. I can’t look away from their interlocked hands. Can’t stop myself from wondering how it’d feel to have someone standing by you through your darkest moments. Especially if that someone wasn’t commanded to be there, but chose to be there. Chose you.

Ivandar awkwardly clears his throat. “You mean, your plan will stand a chance if Kartok doesn’t succeed in obliterating the gods….”

The jubilant mood dies like the quick slash of a saber through the neck.

“Thanks for that,” Serik spits. “You couldn’t let us enjoy this tiny moment of success?”

“We can’t lose sight of the greater threat,” Ivandar insists.

It’s such a backward scenario, the Zemyan heir warning us about his own generál supreme, I laugh. Everyone stares at me, but I can’t stop. It feels like the permafrost and the glaciers beneath it are melting under my feet. The entire world is sliding, and I can’t get my footing.

“Do you think the kings will agree to join us to the Kalima’s rendezvous point?” Ivandar asks.

“They’ll have no choice.” Enebish tugs Serik toward the advancing kings.

I want to run in the opposite direction. I personally ousted these men from their thrones, I systematically exploited their countries, and now they’re joining with people I knowingly enslaved and forsook. I am the common enemy. The one thing they all share.

It reminds me of a joke that warriors tell at the war front—if you can’t pinpoint who’s smelling up the encampment, it’s