I swipe my finger across the chest of drawers and hold it up, displaying a thick coating of dust. “I thought you have a reputation to keep up?”
“Only for the people I lie to. Those in my inner circle get the real picture, the whole truth. When people think you’re flashy and brazen, they’d never expect you to operate out of a run-down bedroom at the back of a tavern. It’s all about showing one thing, then serving something else. It seems you know a thing or two about that.” He traces three fingers down his face, in the same pattern as my traitor’s mark. “Terrifying on the outside, but soft as freshly carded wool beneath. Inkar told me you’re a natural with the children.”
I shrug. “They’re too excited about swinging their wooden sabers to pay attention to my scars.”
“Your scars aren’t the first thing I noticed either.”
“Liar.” I stare Temujin down, but he stares right back.
“I swear to the First Gods, I didn’t have a clue it wasyouin the zurig until we cut you down. I watched you for a while first, from the rooftop of the Sky Palace, to see if you were the type of person we’d want to recruit. You were so stoic, hanging there and quietly taking the pain. Enduring the ridicule. It was incredible. And when you prayed to the Lady of the Sky, I knew it was fate. She had guided me to you.”
“How do you know I prayed?”
“I know another believer when I see one.” He huffs down on the bed and pats the space beside him. I carefully ease down, trying to sit close enough to look like an eager recruit, but nottooeager. Temujin smells of leather oil and tea soap. And this close, he’s so handsome, he’s hard to look at—like the vivid blue heart of a flame. I don’t even have to try to blush and look flustered.
“I’m going to be blunt and cut right to the chase,” he continues. “We could really use someone with your particular skill set….”
Of course.He wants to use me for my night spinning—like everyone else.
I let the enchanted expression wilt off my face and slowly bring my hand to the moonstone. “If you’re referring to my Kalima power, it’s impossible. Even if it weren’t, it’s too dangerous.”
“What if I told you there’s a way to ensure you maintain perfect control?”
“I’d say you’re mad.”
“Would you be willing to try?”
I stay silent for a moment so he thinks I’m actually considering it. But I will never spin the night for a deserter. Not even one who’s feeding starving refugees and training helpless children. A few good deeds don’t erase the bad. He has forsaken Ashkar.Worse—he is actively fighting against it. We arelosingthe war with Zemya for the first time in centuries.
“You’re not very good at concealing your emotions; they’re written plain as day across your face.” I look away quickly, which makes him snicker. “And you should know I’m not a deserter, as the Sky King claims. I never abandoned my post at Novesti. A band of Zemyans raided our camp during the night, and I was cut to ribbons during battle. My battalion left me bleeding in the frozen grass.”
My jaw clenches at the blatant lie. “Imperial warriors are never left behind, no matter how injured.”
“Tell that to my brothers and sisters,” Temujin seethes. “The magic-barren troops don’t abide by the same rules of camaraderie as the Kalima. We are expendable. Especially those of us from the Protected Territories.” Without warning, he lifts the hem of his shirt to his chin. I tell myself to look away. That’s the proper thing to do. But my eyes are already roving over his lean, chiseled chest and trailing down his golden torso. It’s slashed through with muscle, but on top of the muscle are thick, disfiguring scars. As if someone dragged a white-hot poker through his skin, carving a random pattern of pain.
“You’re not the only one with scars,” he says in response to my gasp. “I lay there for two days, bleeding and shaking in the snow. I tried to bear it like a true warrior and accept my fate, but I couldn’t. I was weak and frightened and everything within me screamed tolive.So I called upon the spirit of the Sky King—as we’re instructed to do—but hours passed and our illustrious ruler did not answer my plea. Shocking, I know.”
I accidentally let out a pop of laughter and Temujin’s eyes glint with approval.
“Go on,” I say, my voice wispier than intended.
Temujin scoots closer and the hairs on my arms prickle. “As I lay there, drifting between this life and the next, I couldn’t help but notice how blue the sky was—like a polished sapphire, glinting above me. I knew it was forbidden, but I was dying anyway, so I opened up my pleas to the First Gods, to the Lady of the Sky and Father Guzan.”
“They answered,” I say before I can stop myself. Not a question but a truth. A feeling, deep in my gut. Of course They answered. Unlike the king, the Lady and Father would never forsake a child who had called upon Them.
Temujin nods. “I promised to dedicate my life to Them. I swore to protect others who had been forsaken and wronged by the usurper king, and rekindle their faith, if They would stanch the flow of blood and close my wounds.”
I nibble my lower lip and my rebellious eyes dart again to his chest. Ashkar’s healers are renowned, but not even they could have pieced his abdomen back together without divine help. And he wouldn’t have made it from the battlefield to an infirmary without the intervention of the Lady of the Sky.
Goddess-touchedblares like a horn through my mind.
Temujin finally lowers his tunic and continues in a somber voice: “After I regained my strength, I tried to catch up with my battalion, but the Zemyans had attacked again the following morning and slaughtered all three hundred of them. I found their bodies, torn and scattered across the snow, a league south of where they’d left me to die. So I walked, alone, twenty leagues across the freezing grasslands to Sagaan, only to be accused of desertion upon arrival. That’s the only way the Sky King and your sister claimed I could have survived the attack. They were going to execute me, but I escaped and went into hiding. I’ve been running ever since, helping others who have been wronged by the Sky King and his empire. Deserting is disgraceful, I know that, but sometimes it’s the only choice.”
I blink at him, too stunned to speak. In my mind, there has never been a middle ground regarding desertion. Only right and wrong. White and black. Loyal and deserter. But it seems wholly unfair to condemn Temujin when hetriedto return to the army—even after they left him for dead.
If he’s telling the truth,Ghoa’s voice hisses.Keep your head.
“And you’re like me. Likeus.” Temujin looks again at the damning traitor’s mark. “All of the Shoniin bear similar scars.”
