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

darkness, to receive the latest reports on Minoak’s progress—which has been astounding, thanks to the Namagaans’ riverweed salve. I even give her a few pointers on how to coax the threads of darkness so they’re more cooperative when delivering her messages.

It’s a small trick. Harmless enough.

With every passing day, and every proud grin from Serik, I feel more certain and confident. So much so that when Yatindra approaches me at lunch the day before we’re scheduled to leave for Verdenet, I manage to nod politely and even smile. She’s been nothing but supportive since her brother announced his decision to retake his throne. She even intervened during some of Murtaugh’s more disagreeable moments and has worked tirelessly as a scribe for King Ihsan, sending hundreds of missives to the war front in an attempt to rally support from the warriors who were conscripted from the Protected Territories.

Yatindra slides onto the stool opposite me. “I want to apologize,” she says without preamble. It catches me so off guard, a forkful of chestnut cream misses my mouth and plops onto my tunic.

“What?” I shout. Serik stomps my foot beneath the table, so I quickly add, “I mean … thank you. Me too. I let past betrayals haunt me, which wasn’t fair to you and many others.”

She nods and fiddles with the orange tassels on her dress. “I was so distraught over my brother, and terrified of the unrest in Verdenet, I needed to lash out at something, and you and your shepherds were the most convenient target.”

“I would have done the same,” I say, realizing the truth of the words as they leave my lips. “We’re all just trying to survive and protect the people and places we love.”

“Thank you for being gracious, but I’d still like to make it up to you.” She procures one of her embossed yellow cards and slides it across the table. I cock a brow at her as I pick it up.

“Is now really the time for one of your banquets?”

“Enebish!” Serik barks, but Yatindra laughs.

“It’s a fair assumption, but I’m not hosting a banquet. Ziva and I plan to kneel in prayer tonight, to ask the Lady and Father to bless our journey, and we thought three Verdenese prayers would be stronger than two. I even have an extra prayer doll…. I couldn’t help but notice you don’t seem to have one, and I can’t imagine how much you miss it.”

I’m so overcome with emotion, my voice is too breathy for words. I blink at the table until I’m certain tears won’t escape. Part of me hates that Yatindra is the one to break me down to this rawest, barest version of myself. But it also feels right. Balanced, somehow.

“Well? Will you join us?” Yatindra asks.

I smile at the note card. “I’d be honored.”

After sunset, I pull on a clean tunic and weave my hair into a long braid—how the priestesses at Sawtooth Mesa wore their hair. Then I kneel and offer up my own silent prayer so I’m prepared to join my faith with Ziva’s and Yatindra’s.

“Do an extra oblation for me,” Serik says before I leave.

“Words I never expected to hear from you.” I flash him a teasing smile.

“I never thought you’d assimilate with the shepherds or mend things with Ziva and Yatindra. Miracles are all around us.”

I chuckle as I make my way across the bustling platforms and bridges, where the Namagaans are gathering supplies and loading baskets for our journey. I still can’t believe they’re coming to Verdenet. That they’re with us. Miracles truly are all around us.

When I reach Yatindra’s door and pull the cord, I’m greeted by a serving girl who informs me that Yatindra and Ziva are down at water level.

I frown and hold up the marigold card. “But they invited me to join them here.”

“Miss Yatindra sends her deepest apologies. She planned to host your prayer circle here, but as she and Miss Zivana were preparing, it didn’t feel right. She said you needed to be out there, in the open. Where you can touch the earth and see the skies.”

I huff out an exhausted breath. I understand her reasoning—I agree, even—but it would have been nice if they’d told me to meet at water level before I limped across Uzul and scaled the impossibly steep ladder to the mansion. “Why didn’t she send word?”

“They just made the decision, so the missive wouldn’t have reached you.”

“In that case, why didn’t they wait for me?”

The maid glances at my leg, then quickly averts her eyes. “There was much to carry, with the candles and vorkhi and prayer dolls. They instructed me to assist you to the swamp, if you’d like?”

“No, I can manage.” I force a smile to ease the maid’s anxious bumbling. It isn’t her fault they presumed to know my own abilities. I tell myself it came from a place of kindness, but the twinge in my leg and the tugging in my arm feel more prominent than ever as I descend to the swamp.

“Ziva? Yatindra?” I call once I reach the root pathways. I don’t know where they set up, but it must be farther down the path, since I can’t see a flicker of light. Only the sheep jostling in their pen bleat in answer.

I pick my way along the bumpy pathway, trying not to choke on the foul swamp air and the stench of soggy wool. The animals are huddled together in the center of their ramshackle pen, blowing and stamping as if I’m a predator.

Every night, one of the shepherds keeps watch, and tonight Iree is on duty. He leans against a tree on the other side of the pen, his head bobbing closer and closer to his chest before it snaps back up and the pattern starts again.

“Iree!” I shout, but he doesn’t stir. “Iree!” I try again. Nothing. If I were a reed panther, the entire flock would be dead. Bultum would have a heyday if