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

I swear the breeze in the Eternal Blue stirs in response—warm and fragrant.

“That mentality is precisely why you’ll never be emperor,” Kartok says.

“My humanity is why I’ll be a far better emperor than you could ever be,” Ivandar growls as he continues to struggle against Temujin. “This is unnecessary. We can end this war without bloodshed or stripping anyone of power.”

Kartok sneers. “If you believe that, you’re even more delusional than I thought.”

“I’m not! We’re capable of working together peaceably with the Ashkarians. I saved the life of the Kalima’s commander. Then we traveled together for weeks, working in tandem to survive. She took additional ice into herself to ease the cold on my behalf.”

I spin to look at Ghoa. I knew it. I knew she’d been manipulating the cold for our benefit. She’s done several things for our benefit now. Things I never would have imagined her capable of. Yet still she refuses to acknowledge her part, standing with her arms akimbo and shaking her head as if Ivandar revealed a mortifying secret.

“There’s more than one way to end this war,” the prince continues. “Look at all of the people who came—”

“But there’s only one way to ensure equality!” Kartok thunders over him. “If the Ashkarians have access to power, they will use it against us. They’ve proven that time and time again. And if I have the means to stop them, I owe that to my people. Something you would understand if you were worthy of being their emperor. Now move, or I’ll force you to.”

“How? You’ve never revived me with your poison!” Ivandar shoves even more of his weight against Temujin, the two of them clashing like rams.

Kartok looks to Chanar and the other Zemyan warriors. “Kill them all except the prince. I want the commander to dispatch of him.”

Ghoa gasps as her sword arm twitches, moving in fits and starts like Temujin’s legs. Despite how she struggles, she takes a saber from one of Kartok’s soldiers and stomps toward Ivandar. He looks at her with beseeching eyes, but she continues to advance with ruthless vigor. Slashing and striking. Swinging for his head. The rest of the Zemyan soldiers fall into formation behind her, closing in on us.

Temujin calls my name as Kartok forces him down the nearest golden pathway. The bitter, smarting part of me wants to laugh. Or send Temujin off with a mocking salute. After so many betrayals, he can’t honestly believe I care what becomes of him. But he’s the only person, other than myself, who might know where to search for the First Gods. Which means I can’t just let them go.

“Enebish!” Temujin calls again. He writhes and bucks against Kartok’s magic. “Write!”

Write? About what? His honor and prowess? So he can be fondly remembered by generations to come? Ha! If I’m writing his story, it will be filled with the truth. And our children’s children will despise him for it.

Only when Temujin’s gaze darts toward the center of the garden, where the original Book of Whisperings should rest, do I understand.

I have less than a second to react. The Zemyans are nearly upon us.

“Ziva!” I shout. Our eyes meet and we grasp for threads of darkness. I need to blind our enemies, or render myself invisible, in order to follow Kartok and Temujin. But there isn’t a single tendril of night slithering through the sky in this realm. Another detail Kartok unfortunately guessed correctly in his xanav. Only bright, cheery blue—Eternal Blue. Which means there are also no clouds to summon, no rain or snow or hail or sleet. No wind to whip into a frenzy or to carry in a covering of fog. No ice to throw like daggers, or lighting to sever like swords. Those elements are created by the Lady and Father—for our use and protection down below. The only element that exists of itself is warmth, light, heat.

“Serik!” I cry, praying he understands.

He raises his hands and fire blazes from his palms, forcing the Zemyans to leap back and shield their faces. Weroneka and the other two Sun Stokers add their heat to Serik’s, buying everyone a second—except for Ivandar. Ghoa anticipates the strike and rolls beneath the fire, knocking the prince’s feet out from under him. She climbs atop him and stares down, sword arm raised.

Ivandar says something and falls still, eyes closed.

She won’t do it. She’ll fight Kartok’s magic. She can’t kill Ivandar after everything they’ve endured together.

But Ghoa’s arm moves with forceful certainty.

I drop to the ground and roll beneath the nearest hedgerow as the prince’s wails fill the sky.

I don’t want to watch. And if I don’t move, I’ll be next.

My bad arm objects as I drag myself through the leaves and onto one of the winding golden pathways. As I run, I listen for Temujin’s babbling voice and Kartok’s clipped steps, keeping my eyes focused on the pedestal rising from the center of the garden like a fountain. I refuse to look away from it, not even when more agonized screams ring out behind me. If I see my friends fighting for their lives, I’ll be tempted to go back. But the only way to help them, the only way to save them, is to ensure Kartok never reaches the First Gods. And the best way to warn Them is through the Book of Whisperings—writing side by side with Temujin to forge the strongest connection possible, as we did so long ago in his family’s book.

The closer we draw to the pedestal, the louder my anxiety screams. Doubt clings to me like burs, begging me not to trust Temujin. Not after everything. But if the shepherds can trust me after I blazed my starfire through Sagaan, and if the Zemyan prince can align with Ghoa, who savagely attacked his country for over a decade, perhaps I should give Temujin one more chance.

I swear I hear the Goddess in the tinkle of the gemstone leaves: Don’t we all deserve another chance?

“Where are They?”