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

are jelly and the Zemyans easily trap them against my sides. I stare at my battalion across the shadowy distance. Faces I have known for years. People I’ve risked my life for. They owe me this. Ashkarian warriors never leave a comrade behind. Especially not their commander.

The Kalima bark at Weroneka and Varren again, and each word jabs my stomach harder than the Zemyans’ fists: “Melt. The. Bridge!”

Varren and Weroneka exchange a faltering glance. It’s light enough now; they could wield the power of the sky without misfiring and hitting homes or bystanders. The entire Kalima could batter the Zemyans with wind and rain and lightning until I’m free.

But they don’t.

With a grim nod at Weroneka and a fleeting look at me, Varren turns and sprints to safety. Weroneka follows, her smoldering hand melting the escape route I provided.

As the buttress falls, my heart falls with it.

No one looks back as the Zemyans wrestle me to the floor.

And no one lingers to hear my screams.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ENEBISH

I FORCE A SMILE AS THE LAST FEW SHEPHERDS DUCK OUT of the cave and into the net of darkness I hurriedly knit. My stitches are loose and clumsy, the blanket lopsided and unwieldy, allowing hooves and wagon wheels to occasionally flash into view. But it’s the best I can do after our grueling journey from Sagaan and the weeks I’ve spent starving, bickering, and spying on the ungrateful and unreliable shepherds.

I’d thought my time concealing the caravan across the continent was behind me. We should be storming Lutaar City, reinstating King Minoak, then freeing the other Protected Territories to make a stand against the Zemyans and the Sky King. But here we are. Trekking to Namaag with a half-dead king and a group of “rebels” who are ready to abandon our cause after a few weeks of hardship.

I peer up into the undulating darkness, desperate to find the Lady’s face in the ever-shifting shadows.

Can’t you lighten my load, even a little?

“You should sit down,” Ziva says. “You look like you’re going to collapse.” She pushes away from the opposite cave wall and offers me a hand.

I ignore it and brace myself against the slippery rocks. “I’m fine. Just tired from chasing you across the desert last night.” I spear her with an accusatory glare. “Unfortunately, I won’t be sleeping tonight, either—or any night—since you convinced the shepherds we have to leave immediately, and it’s safer to travel when my power is strongest.” I flip my hand at the ambling group, my right eye already twitching at the straying sheep and uneven pace, and we’re mere steps outside the cave.

It’s going to be a long week.

“You could let me help.” Ziva’s voice is tentative but her eyes are hopeful.

“Don’t you need to look after your father or something?” I nod to the litter in the middle of the group, balanced on the shoulders of our six strongest men.

“There’s nothing I can do for him until we reach Namaag, and I’ll follow your orders with exactness. I know I’m new to all of this.” She waves a hand, sending the tendrils of darkness swirling, which makes it even more difficult to keep the net taut and steady over the group. “But I did manage to conceal myself and my father for almost two months.”

I give my head a terse shake. “Concealing an entire caravan is far more difficult than concealing two people. You can’t just toss the darkness at random. There must be order and discipline so that the tendrils lie flat and move seamlessly with a group this large.”

“So teach me.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “It isn’t something I can teach in a minute or two. It takes years. A lifetime of training.”

And I don’t want to be a mentor.

My own mentor, Tuva, was so patient and encouraging. I remember her cooing-dove voice and graceful artist’s hands, swirling through the darkness with the ease of a paintbrush. For the longest time, I thought she was too timid and fragile to be a good warrior—or a respectable mentor. Especially after my childhood with Ghoa. But now I see how strong and humble she had to be, entrusting me with her knowledge and assuming I would do right by it.

Tuva would have agreed to train Ziva without hesitation. But I’m not half the Night Spinner, or person, that Tuva was. The wreckage I made of the Grand Courtyard is proof of that. She never would have been so thoroughly deceived by Temujin and Kartok.

“No,” I say in case Ziva mistook my silence for consideration.

“But you clearly need me. And Serik said—”

“Serik doesn’t know the first thing about wielding the darkness, so he doesn’t get to dictate who can and can’t be trusted with it.”

“Is this about trust or ability? Because before you said—”

“It’s about both!” I snap.

“I trusted you enough to follow you back to these caves.” Ziva’s voice grows shriller by the second. “Don’t I deserve the same courtesy?”

“You only came because you had no choice. And you can help by keeping up and keeping quiet.” I point to the back of the caravan.

Ziva grumbles something I can’t decipher and stomps ahead. I’m positive she’s cursing me, but that’s fine. Better than fine. My life will be much easier if she despises me enough to stop pestering me.

I seal the blanket of darkness behind us and take up the rear of the wagon train. Far ahead, at the front of the group, there’s a flash of gold in the blackness. My breath automatically catches, even though I know it isn’t Orbai—it’s only Serik’s goldwork cloak. But my heart can’t stop hoping, and breaking, all over again. I’d give anything under the skies to have her here with me.

Gold sparkles again as Serik mounts a wagon and squints for me at the end of the procession. During the arduous trek to the caves, he was forced to trail the group and melt the snow to remove our tracks. He never once complained, even though I know