Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology) by Addie Thorley (best beach reads .txt) 📗

“Skies, I’ve missed you,” I gush. I slip my fingers through the cracks and burst into jubilant tears when she doesn’t attempt to bite them off. But my joyous cries morph gradually into heartbreak because she also doesn’t hop closer or click her beak. She doesn’t gnaw on the bars of the cage, trying to reach me. She stands there, as aloof and guarded as the day the trappers brought her in off the grasslands and committed her to my care at Ikh Zuree.

Tears slide down my face. I don’t know if they’re happy or sad. I never seem to know what I’m feeling anymore. Orbai is alive. And no longer under Kartok’s influence. But she’s no longer mine, either.

I walk alongside the cart until the caravan comes to a halt in the center of the square. The travelers scatter to procure food and baths, but I remain there, beside my eagle. I can’t bring myself to part from her. As I sit there, speaking in soft tones and letting her smell my fingers, watching her eye me curiously, I decide to focus on gratitude, rather than bitterness. This isn’t the reunion I wanted, but it’s better than the worst I feared. It’s a starting point. A new beginning. And like the city of Sagaan and the Protected Territories, and even Zemya, all will be rebuilt with time.

Serik and I aren’t invited to take part in the official peace negotiations—something he can’t stop grumbling about, but I’ve never been so relieved. Let the kings argue and angst over how to manage their unruly people. I’d much rather hide away in the treasury or fly off to the stables, where I’ve converted an empty stall into a makeshift mews for Orbai.

“You’ll prefer this,” I tell Serik as I slide the barn door open. “It’s so quiet and peaceful.”

Except the barn is neither quiet nor peaceful at the moment.

Ivandar paces the center aisle, muttering and pulling at the crown of seagrass resting atop his white-blond curls. He jolts when he spots us, as if we caught him pilfering the royal coffers. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Serik asks with a mischievous smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be counseling with the other leaders?”

Ivandar groans and leans against the nearest stall door, soiling his seafoam green suit.

“I thought you wanted these responsibilities …” I say, venturing closer.

“I do.” The prince sighs. “But I didn’t want them immediately. And not at my mother’s expense. She isn’t coming—she isn’t strong enough to journey from Zemya. According to our healers, she collapsed at the time of Kartok’s demise and didn’t rise for five days. And she has no memory of the past eight years. Her attendants say she mumbles and talks to walls. They say she sings strange songs and strokes her neck and laughs at nothing.”

“Honestly, you’re lucky if that’s the worst of it,” Serik says with an exaggerated shake of his head. “Can you imagine Kartok sifting around in your mind for eight years?”

I shoot Serik a glare, tempted to pinch his ear and drag him away like the abba used to at Ikh Zuree. “I’m sure your mother will return to herself soon,” I tell Ivandar, even though I’m sure of no such thing. But I refuse to accept anything else.

Danashti will come back to Ivandar because I need Orbai to come back to me.

“But what if she doesn’t?” Ivandar presses as he squints through the barn door, trying to hide the wetness pooling in his eyes.

“Then you’ll lead your people,” I say simply. “You’re more than capable.”

“But am I ready?”

“Stop dithering and focus on what you can control.” Serik presses his palms against the prince’s back and shoves him out the door. “If you want to honor your mother and those who suffered and sacrificed, do it by becoming the best damn emperor Zemya has ever known.”

Ivandar peers over at Serik, a bemused expression crinkling his usually harsh features.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Serik demands.

“Because you sounded just like Ghoa.”

Serik wheezes and starts to argue. But then he bites his lip and looks down at his feet. A small grin tugs his lips. “For the first time in my life, I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

After Ivandar plods across the debris-littered courtyard to the tavern where the negotiations are taking place, I collect my eagle from her perch and take her into the abandoned gardens behind the scorched Sky Palace. Serik follows, settling beneath the larch trees to watch.

I’ve spent as much time as possible with Orbai, reforging our bond. In a way, it’s like time has unraveled and I’m reliving our early days together—except even better. Without the Sky King’s other birds, I can focus solely on Orbai and appreciate every little milestone.

Last week, I burst into happy tears when she flew to my glove for the first time. And every time she inches up my shoulder and clicks her beak in my ear, I can’t help but coo and praise her in a ridiculous, high-pitched voice.

I wait for Serik to tease me, but he doesn’t say a word. He just watches, a small grin on his lips. So much quieter than before. More introspective.

“What are you thinking about?” I often find myself asking him.

“What do you think I’m thinking about, in the face of such beauty?” He winks and points deliberately at Orbai instead of me. Though, I catch him staring at his palms when he thinks I’m not looking. Two nights ago, I spied him trying to start a fire by rubbing sticks—like the rest of us. Praying for divine help, for power that continues to lessen every day.

It’s during one of these quiet training sessions, on the fifth day of negotiations, that Ziva hikes up the hill to where Serik and I sit, watching Orbai loop overhead. Ziva and Ivandar have kept us informed of plans moving forward: all nations will have open borders