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

“Of course it’s somewhere colder,” Ivandar grumbles, hugging himself.

“The coldest,” I affirm with a devilish grin, eager to finally seize the upper hand.

It takes us three days to reach the old pelt smugglers’ tunnels that run between Sagaan and Chotgor. The underground highway shaves weeks off the journey. Which means even if Kartok somehow learned of the Kalima’s hideout, it would take him twice as long to reach the caves. Giving me time to prepare the Kalima to meet him.

Just before we reach the outskirts of Sagaan, I lead Ivandar down a hidden pathway that branches off the main trail, and use my power to heave an enormous boulder of ice aside.

“We’re going underground?” Ivandar balks at the top of the wet stone staircase, squinting down into the frigid dark.

“Is that a problem?” I ask sweetly. “It’s sheltered from the wind and snow. You should be thanking me.”

“Do you feel that draft? It’s colder and damper than a grave!” His teeth chatter harder and he hunches his shoulders.

“Zemyans are truly the least resilient people on the planet. We should have defeated you centuries ago,” I say as I trot down the stairs.

Ivandar curses and follows me into the tunnel, which I’ll admit, feels almost chilly and looks like a rodent’s burrow—a long, squat shaft completely devoid of light, save a torch at the base of the stairs. I light it and venture into the murk. Ivandar follows, already complaining about the wet and dark, disparaging Ashkar for its differences from Zemya, even though he doesn’t have the context to appreciate those differences.

It’s precisely what you did when you arrived in Zemya….

I smash the irritating thought beneath my boot like I do the worms slithering through the mud. Zemya is a barren wasteland. Ashkar, however, is a beautiful, discerning mistress—kind only to those who are strong enough to endure her perils. A trial of worthiness, of sorts.

And the Zemyan prince is far from worthy.

Whenever we stop to rest, he shivers and whimpers pathetically—even in his sleep. Making it impossible for me to sleep. But no matter how many times I tell him he’s welcome to return to the warmth of Zemya—which is a bald-faced lie—he bravely soldiers on. Forcing me to acknowledge the risks he’s taking and the sacrifices he’s making. All in the name of his country and goddess.

After four long nights I can’t stand the sound of his sniveling for another second. I glance over at him, curled up like a dead roach. I could leave him. Leave all of this behind. Forget the Kalima and start anew.

Listen to yourself! The internal reprimand feels like a slap to the face—one I probably deserve. But still, my cheek burns so acutely, my fingers peruse it for damage.

This isn’t right, a tiny instinctual voice in my brain counters.

What isn’t right is quitting. Allowing traitorous warriors to tarnish your name, sound logic intervenes. Where would you even go? Using the prince is the only way to reclaim your position.

Of course, I’m right—it’s impossible to be wrong when you’re arguing with yourself.

Again, I peer at the shivering prince. I have to do something to shut him up, and since leaving him behind isn’t an option, I close my eyes, place my hands on my ankles, and turn all of my focus to the frozen ground beneath me. It’s hard and sharp, and I silently invite it to join me. Taking it in instead of forcing it out, as I do when I attack.

The frigid mud and frosty air funnel into my body, storing ice inside my flesh the way marmots gather barleynuts for winter. Within minutes my skin is colder than the ground. My eyelashes crystalize with frost. My legs are so numb, I can’t feel the weight of my hands, and it makes me laugh with giddy triumph. Ice cuts most people down to the smallest shivering fragment of themselves, but it chisels me into a saber. Hardens me into a weapon. I haven’t felt this strong, or deadly, since my capture.

It won’t last long. Soon enough, the balance will shift and the ice will overwhelm me. My body will become slow and stiff and heavy—flesh wasn’t meant to hold infinite, raw power—but I intend to revel in every second of limitless strength while I can.

“Why are you laughing?” Ivandar groans through chattering teeth. He cracks one eye open and instantly scrambles to his knees. Pleading and babbling. I can only imagine how I must look—every inch of me covered in frost, like the ice sculptures carved in my honor at the Kalima’s celebratory feasts. “Whatever you’re doing, stop,” he begs. “You still need me!”

“Quit blathering. I’m not going to freeze you to death.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Shutting you up so I can sleep.”

“You can freeze my voice?”

I probably could—I don’t know why I didn’t consider that possibility first—but I don’t have the energy to goad him. My head already feels like a boulder of ice, cleaved in half by a pickax, and my arms are so stiff, I can no longer bend my elbows. “I can ease the chill by siphoning the cold from the air into me.”

Ivandar glowers at me, even as his teeth stop chattering. “Have you always been able to do this?”

“Yes.”

“And you only decided to use it now?”

“Yes,” I say again without a hint of remorse.

“You’re unbelievable!” His face is a smear of angry shadows in the torchlight. He tries to climb to his feet but slips in the mud, which is looser thanks to the pocket of warmth surrounding us. He lands with a splash on his backside. The dark brown sludge spatters his unearthly white skin, which he doesn’t have to disguise belowground. “How could you just sit there and watch me suffer for so many days? After everything I’ve done for you!”

I settle gingerly onto my side, my muscles crackling like a frozen pond, and close my eyes. “First of all, I owe