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

“Focus, Zivana!” I shout across the sandy sparring ring, using her full name to vex her even more. “A queen must always keep her head. Especially under pressure.”

“I am focusing!” She snatches her sword—much too forcefully. It jabs her leg and her sparring partner, a Zemyan boy named Josaf, chuckles as she yelps. As do the hundred other trainees spaced across the practice field recently erected outside of Nashab Marketplace.

Any youth across the continent who wishes to hone their skills in self-defense is welcome to attend my training, and I have a good mix of students from each of the five nations. Hopefully the peace between our countries lasts centuries longer than the war and they won’t ever need these skills, but it’s better to be prepared. To ensure that future generations know how to defend themselves and, more important, how to communicate.

It’s a small way I can give back. Something I surprisingly enjoy—Inkar taught me that. And a way to pay homage to my own mentors—Ghoa and Tuva. And the Lady herself, in a way.

“Wielding the night was so much easier,” Ziva mutters as she retakes her position.

“Maybe you should cut her a little slack,” Ivandar suggests from where he leans against the fence beside me. He visits every couple of months to observe the Zemyan students’ progress.

He spoke quietly enough, but Ziva cuts her eyes at him and points her wooden blade in his direction. “I do not want slack. Do you think your people will cut me slack when I am queen?”

The group falls silent, tense, awaiting the Zemyan ruler’s reply. At times these newly forged relationships feel like treading across a field of sabers. Bloody wounds seem almost inevitable. But every day that we keep on trudging, our feet grow a little bit tougher.

Instead of taking offense, Ivandar tilts his head back, pale skin pink and sweaty beneath the desert sun, and laughs. “By the time you’re queen of Verdenet, my people will have heard so many tales of you making a complete and utter fool of me, they would never dream of mocking you.”

The group joins in with Ivandar’s laughter, and eventually even Ziva cracks a smile.

“You’re making impressive progress, En,” Ivandar says an hour later, when the trainees put up their wooden swords and disperse back into the marketplace.

“Thanks. They have a long way to go, but they’re eager to learn.”

“I’m not talking about them. I never doubted for a second that you’d be an excellent teacher. I’m talking about her.” The Zemyan prince nods up at the sky where Orbai circles and swoops. As constant and predictable as the sun.

After a few slow weeks of reacquaintance, it was like someone pulled a lever in my eagle’s mind and Orbai was suddenly Orbai again. Clicking in my ear and chewing holes in my tunic, looking for treats.

I cried so hard and hugged her so tightly, she refused to come near me the entire day after. And I spent so long thanking the Lady of the Sky, She probably never wants to hear from me again. But I had to let Her know how grateful I am. How seen I feel. She has thousands of children across the continent, but She takes the time to hear me. To know and bless me.

Ivandar watches wistfully as Orbai lands on my outstretched glove.

“I take it there’s been no improvement with your mother?” I ask sympathetically.

He shakes his head once. “Not yet. But I haven’t lost hope.”

“You shouldn’t. She was under Kartok’s influence so much longer.”

“I can’t decide if that’s comforting or terrifying.” His laugh is miserable—and heartbreaking.

“Have you petitioned Zemya?”

“Of course I’ve tried to call on Her, but the sacred hot spring is nearly drained….”

Part of me is surprised to hear Zemya complied with Her parents’ wishes and the other part isn’t at all. “She’ll find other ways to reach you,” I assure the prince.

He nods again, thoughtfully. “Can I walk you home before I return to my caravan?”

“I don’t think your entourage will wait that long.”

Ivandar’s brows lower with confusion. The little shack I rent is just outside the market. But tonight Serik returns from his first tour of duty with the Kalima.

Which means, tonight, I am finally going home.

The journey between Lutaar City and the tiny village of Sangatha takes four hours on foot. With my limp, it takes six. Half of the sun has already disappeared beneath the horizon when the first straw huts appear in the distance, but that somehow feels right. My power was born here. It’s only fitting it should die here too.

I glance up at the fading threads of darkness, churning and looping above me. Every day they merge a little more into one, becoming an inanimate expanse of black, as the Lady and Father recall Their powers. The night, as everyone else sees it.

Serik waits for me at the outskirts. He’s been stationed with his battalion in Zemya for the past four months, studying their tactics and formations in order to incorporate them into the Kalima’s repertoire, and since my village is so near to the border, it made more sense for him to meet me here. What doesn’t make sense is how he came.

I have to squint and shake my head to make sure it’s really him. Not because of the polished lamellar armor he wears and how it hugs his broadened shoulders and trim waist—though I definitely notice both. But because he’s sitting astride Ghoa’s massive black warhorse.

“Is that Tabana?” I call as I limp closer.

“You haven’t seen me in months and the first thing you ask about is my horse?”

“Well, is it?” I say with a laugh.

“I thought I’d do the beast a kindness and use her after everyone else in the Kalima refused,” he explains as he dismounts. “But do you think she’s grateful? No. She punishes my generosity on a daily basis—rearing and biting and dumping me in the dirt.