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plotting. Creating a battle plan and mapping her escape route.

Serik scrubs his hand over his hair and murmurs, “Burning skies, it’s real.”

At the exact same moment, the Zemyan prince mutters, “Merciful seas, it’s real.”

They look at each other askance. Their words may reflect their opposite heritage, but the reaction itself, and the emotions behind it, are the same. I’m sure there’s an allegory in there somewhere about how our people really aren’t so different. We never have been. But there’s no time to unpack it.

Kartok regains his feet and strides toward us, a new and enlivened verve to his step. “Does this make me Goddess-touched?” he asks in a mocking tone. “I accomplished what only three Ashkarians have managed since the beginning of time, and I’m not even one of you.”

His soldiers snicker as they fall into formation behind him. Now that they’ve shed their disguises, I spot several familiar faces: Chanar and Oyunna and Borte, the Bone Reader. She must have been devout to the Lady and Father once, in order to successfully imitate bone readings, but no longer. I’m sure she has a heart-wrenching story like Chanar’s or Oyunna’s or Temujin’s—how the empire wronged and ruined her. How she deserves to reap this vengeance.

Except this is no longer a vendetta against a mortal king! I want to scream. Look where we are! While you were focused on taking down the Sky King, Kartok changed the point of attack! Thrust you into an entirely different battle!

But I save my breath because it won’t make a difference. People see only what they want to. Believe the version of the truth that suits them best. Not so long ago, I was just as blinded by Kartok’s schemes.

“Where are the Lady and Father?” Kartok snaps at me. “Why haven’t they come?” He glances all around with agitation.

“They don’t owe you a reception or acknowledgment,” I snap back. “Breaking into a home is not the same as being invited inside.”

“Precisely! Shouldn’t They defend Their realm?”

I cross my arms and stare into his soulless eyes. “I would never presume to tell the First Gods what They should or shouldn’t do…. Perhaps you’re not a large enough threat to acknowledge,” I add, unable to stop myself.

Serik looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Why in the skies would you provoke him?”

“Because we don’t cower before weak, frightened men,” Ghoa answers, smiling at me proudly. As she did when I was young.

Kartok’s cheeks shudder with rage. He raises his hands and spreads his bony fingers. I want to believe it’s impossible for him to summon his illusions here—that the First Gods banished Zemyan magic along with Zemya herself—but the only reason They feared Zemya’s magic was because They couldn’t control it. Couldn’t control Her.

“You can’t harm me. Or my allies!” I blurt before he unleashes his magic.

“And why is that?” Kartok demands.

“Because I know how to find the Lady and Father. You need me or you’ll spend an eternity searching this realm.”

Kartok chuckles. “We both know you’ll never assist me, which is why I brought a devout ally of my own.” He nods at Chanar, who easily slips past the shell-shocked Kalima to where Temujin lies, hidden behind a cluster of flowers with amethyst petals. Temujin has been so quiet, I’d forgotten he was in the ice cave with us.

Chanar severs Temujin’s ropes, but he doesn’t stir. His eyes are wide but vacant, taking in everything and nothing. He’s so still, for a second I wonder if the shock of being betrayed— instead of perpetrating the betrayal—killed him. Or maybe it’s guilt, knowing he’s ultimately to blame for Kartok’s infiltration of the realm of the Eternal Blue.

It isn’t so fun to be on the receiving end of deceit, is it? I want to call over my shoulder.

But Kartok speaks first: “Pull yourself together and rise, boy.”

Temujin’s golden eyes flick to Kartok, filling with the fiery determination that initially drew me to the rebel leader. The same unflinching bravery and commitment that convinced me fighting with him was the right choice. The only choice. Except now that compelling defiance is directed at Kartok rather than the Sky King.

“Was this your plan all along … to attack the gods?” he explodes.

Kartok rolls his eyes. “My plan has never changed. I intend to end the war, restore balance and equality, and glorify Zemya by any means necessary. I knew eradicating the Kalima was key, but it wasn’t until recently—with the help of the commander”—he gestures at Ghoa—“that I realized it would be more efficient to cut off the source of their power than to eliminate each warrior individually.”

“You knew I would never agree to this!” Temujin vaults to his feet.

“Which is precisely why I didn’t tell you. Now, come. We’ve wasted enough time.” Kartok claps at Temujin as if he’s a dog. “Take me to the Lady and Father.”

Temujin’s nostrils flare. He crosses his arms over his chest and widens his stance.

“The time for defiance has long since passed,” Kartok says with a weary sigh. “We both know you’re going to cooperate, whether you wish to or not.”

“You can’t just kill gods!” It’s strange to hear Temujin voice the same fears he so readily dismissed when we revealed Kartok’s plans in Chotgor. “There will be consequences. Consequences that will affect you. Are you willing to risk that?”

“I’m willing to do anything.” Kartok claps again, and this time Temujin’s right leg judders forward. Then his left. He walks with herky-jerky movements that remind me of my own limping gate. With every step, Temujin’s teeth clench tighter. His arms thrash harder, as if trying to pry himself free from invisible vines looping around his torso. Sweat trails down his face and neck.

It’s horrifying to watch—even if he deserves it.

From out of nowhere, the Zemyan prince moves in front of Temujin and physically shoves him back. “Enough, Generál!” Ivandar snaps at Kartok. “There’s no need to hunt the First Gods or strip anyone of power.”

It could be my imagination, but

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