Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology) by Addie Thorley (best romance ebooks .txt) 📕

she says in a low, dangerous growl. I don’t know if she’s talking to me or Kartok; I don’t think it matters either way.

Kartok threads his fingers together in front of his waist and smiles. “Take me to the Lady of the Sky and Father Guzan, and I’ll order the commander to release the boy,” he says to Enebish.

“Don’t lead him anywhere, En,” Serik interjects.

“You do realize there’s only one other option….” Kartok nudges Temujin’s corpse with his toe. “Are you truly willing to die defending gods who overlooked you? Who saw fit to bless you with power only when They needed you?” Kartok clucks his tongue with disapproval. “After so many years of yearning and suffering, I thought you would be wiser. Wouldn’t a fair, predictable goddess better suit both of our people? Removing two underhanded gods is much simpler than leading people to battle. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Serik swallows hard against the edge of the knife. I can feel his heartbeat thundering in his rib cage. I have no doubt he’s entertained these thoughts before—not specifically about supporting Zemya, but wishing there were no First Gods. Wishing everyone was equal so he would have a chance of achieving greatness.

“You’d be willing to die to defend the First Gods?” Enebish’s voice is scratchy, her eyes wet as she blinks up at Serik.

Serik nods after only the slightest hesitation. “I would.”

I want to laugh. Or maybe vomit. I don’t have the slightest idea what he’s decided to believe now that he possesses a Kalima power, but I do know he doesn’t have the same unshakable love and faith in the gods as Enebish. If this were only about Them, he would probably stand aside and let Kartok pass. Let the gods reap the consequences of the injustice They sowed. But there has always been one thing Serik loves more than the allure of power and greatness. One person he’s worshiped in place of a goddess. And if Enebish wants to defend the Lady and Father, my cousin will let me slit his throat before he fails her.

Some would say that’s the highest form of bravery and love. They’d claim his devotion is noble, maybe even endearing. Part of me secretly wishes someone would stand with me so completely. Believe in me so fiercely. But then I remind myself it’s Serik. And this sacrifice, and his baffling new desire to believe, are a waste.

If the Lady of the Sky and Father Guzan are powerful enough to create this realm and the entire continent below, and wise enough to instill the power of the sky into worthy warriors, shouldn’t They be strong enough to oust this Zemyan from Their presence? Shouldn’t They know he’s coming and be prepared to face him without our intervention? How am I supposed to worship gods who are too weak to defend Themselves? If They expect me to admit I’m not a god, I need Them to prove They are stronger. Give me a reason to put my faith in something other than myself.

“Make your choice, Night Spinner, or I’ll make it for you,” Kartok barks at Enebish. “Your gods or this boy?”

“The Lady and Father would never force me to make such a choice!” Enebish cries.

“But I would. And since They’ve decided not to grace us with Their presence, my agenda is the only one that matters.” His fingers twist viciously.

So do mine.

A second later Serik cries out as fresh blood wets my hand.

Enebish’s teeth sink into her lower lip. Her gaze flits to the mountains on her left and she tilts her head back, muttering a warbling prayer. Asking her gods what to do while Kartok’s eyes trail her sight line—sharp and hungry.

“Follow me,” she finally says, limping toward the encircling peaks.

“Don’t do this, En,” Serik pleads as we wind through the neatly trimmed hedges—first Enebish, followed by me and Serik, with Kartok taking up the rear. Keeping us all in line. “I am willing to make this sacrifice. I want to make this sacrifice.”

Enebish shakes her head firmly. “The Lady and Father will show us another way.”

“What if They don’t? Or can’t?” Serik squirms against my hold. The harder he struggles, the hotter he becomes. And the hotter he becomes, the more my hands blister. And the sharper the pain, the more I begin to panic. It’s finally in that panic that the icy walls encasing my mind begin to melt and shrink. For a brief moment I’m overwhelmed by clarity and autonomy—almost enough to let go of Serik. But Kartok is right there, hovering over my shoulder, forcing the frost to rise and reform. Starting the process all over again.

As we walk, the sounds of battle fade until I no longer hear fighting at all. Either the Kalima, the little Night Spinner, and the kings were defeated by the Zemyans or this garden is even larger than I realized. I find myself silently hoping for the latter. Not because I agree with their rebellion or their gods, but because the thought of the Kalima and the kings of Verdenet and Namaag falling to the Zemyans is infuriating and insulting.

At last, the garden spits us out onto hard, cracked dirt that’s not quite brown and not quite gray—a wash of rocky desolation that surrounds the garden like a moat. The ground slopes sharply upward to towering mountains that would be adequate fortification for anyone trying to enter from the opposite side. For people less zealous than Kartok, who found a way to bypass the range entirely and battered into the garden itself.

The rocky ground diverges into trails that climb each peak. Enebish shields her eyes and squints up at the fog-shrouded summits. “That one,” she says reverently, even though they all look the same.

Kartok frowns as his eyes follow the switchbacks, rising up, up, up. “Why would your gods be up there when They have this magnificent garden? If you’re purposely leading me astray, girl, I’ll—”

“Perhaps They enjoy the view,” Enebish