My breath hitches. My heart stops. “Could you really do that?”
Ghoa slips to the floor and kneels before me, reversing our roles so thoroughly, I can do nothing but gape. “I swear on my life, I will see you reinstated. I persuaded the Sky King to spare your life two years ago, did I not? And again today?”
“Yes …”
“Please, En. Don’t you want to be together again, fighting side by side?”
I do. Blazing skies, I have never wanted anything more. My entire body hums at the thought of rejoining the Kalima … except for a tiny, pricking splinter buried deep in the sole of my foot.
Temujin saved me. He wasn’t afraid of me.
Ghoa’s expression falters. “Unless there’s a reason you don’t wish to rejoin the Kalima? Unless you support Temujin’s cause? Or feel some sort of loyalty to him now?”
“Of course not,” I say quickly. “My loyalty will always be with you.”
Ghoa takes my hand and squeezes it three times—just as she did whenever we charged onto the battlefield. “Then do this for me. I’ll be with you every step of the way, helping from a distance.Please,En. If you love me …”
She has never askedanyonefor help, and if she believes I can do this, if she needs me to do this, I must accept.
I want to accept.
I want to live again. To be Enebish the Warrior, not this pathetic, cowering beast sentenced to a life behind bars.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Ghoa exhales and lays her head in my lap. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.” After a few quiet minutes, she stands and wipes beneath her eyes. “Rest and recover from the zurig. I’ll return to brief you on your mission in three days. In the meantime, you must stay inside your chamber.”
“Why?” I start to protest. “I’ve never had to—”
“The monks need to believe you’re being kept in isolation as punishment.”
“But what about Serik? I need to check on him. The abba looked so furious….”
Ghoa gestures lazily in the direction of the assembly hall. “Serik is fine. This is no worse than the hundreds of times he’s been punished previously. The abba’s too old to inflict much damage. But I promise I’ll check on him. Rest now.” She plants a tender kiss on my forehead. “I need you at your best.”
As soon as Ghoa’s gone and her frost melts from my chamber walls, the reality of what I’ve agreed to do sinks in. I feel like laughing and vomiting. Like screaming with joy and terror. Waves of dizziness batter me over the head, and my insides twist as I pace from one side of my room to the other. I don’t know yet if they’re the good kind of nerves that carry me fearlessly into battle, or if it’s the monster lifting its head and stretching its wings, readying to overtake me as soon as I venture beyond the monastery walls.
I pace faster, gnawing my lower lip into oblivion. My eyes dart to the trunk, where my prayer doll and Book of Whisperings are hidden.
There’s one way to know for certain.
I blow out a breath and check the door, then I race to my trunk and toss the lid back. If I know I have the Lady of the Sky’s blessing, I can proceed on Ghoa’s mission with confidence.
Tucking my prayer doll to my chest, I kneel facing south and pray until my voice is a rasp. Begging for strength. Asking for guidance. Then I carefully open my Book of Whisperings. The pages are as old and brittle as autumn leaves—half charred from the fire that killed my parents. Ghoa didn’t force me to destroy it when she took me in, as it was all I had left of my family, but she made me vow never to write in it. Just as she made me swear to never attempt bone reading and promise, on my parents’ graves, to always wear leggings to cover the Verdenese tribal tattoos snaking up my calves.
“Such strange Southern traditions,” she said with a terse shake of her head. “Verdenet became a Protected Territory more than twenty years ago; your people are numbered among ours now and should act accordingly. We are all Ashkarian.”
I didn’t want to be a nuisance, and I was beyond grateful for the new life she had given me, so I wore the pants—even in the dead of summer when sweat pooled behind my knees—and stayed away from this book, save for the few times I’ve had to make important, life-altering decisions.
Such as now.
With a featherlight touch, I scrawl my question using my finest calligraphy, as my mother taught me. The words dissolve into the page, like raindrops sinking into the depths of a lake, and I close my eyes, waiting for my question to soar up to the clouds. Into the heart of the Lady of the Sky.
I let the room fall away, tunneling deeper and deeper into my innermost self, until there is only blackness. Stillness. And there I wait for the Goddess to inscribe Her answer on my mind. I don’t know how much time passes—sometimes Her answer is immediate, while other times She requires patience and faith in Her perfect timing.
At last, there’s a flare in the dark—like a spark devouring the wick of a candle. Bursts of yellow and orange light trace a single word in my mind:Go.
As soon as I’ve seen it, it dissolves into curling wisps of smoke. I sigh as I lie back on my blankets and stare out the tiny window over my bed. The sky outside is as black as velvet, depthless and cornerless. The threads of darkness press against the glass like fog, singing to the monster inside me, but I turn on my side and tug my blankets higher.
