Why is it that the things I want most take a lifetime to come to pass—my years at Ikh Zuree were as long and interminable as the great freeze—while the moments I dread hurtle toward me with the speed and ferocity of a snow panther? As if they’ve been stalking me for years, waiting for the perfect time to pounce.
I never told Ghoa the location of my lean-to, but I’m not trying to hide, and she finds it sure enough. I peer around the boards and watch her approach, the sky behind her as pink as the underbelly of a trout. At first glance, I almost think she’s another shepherd, draped in a tattered cloak with a brown scarf covering her hair. But there’s no mistaking her long, confident stride. Or the way the branches toll like frozen chimes as she stalks past.
Burning skies.
My toes tingle inside my boots, itching to run, but I smooth my clammy palms down my cloak and remain seated. I can do this. I can find a way to confirm Serik’s safety without raising suspicion or seeming disloyal.
I poke my face out into the cold morning and wave. Which instantly feels absurd. Like I’m trying too hard. So I snatch my hand back and retreat beneath the boards. But that looks even worse.
Act normal,I command myself. But what isnormal? I am a girl cleaved in two. Before and after. Strong and weak. Everything and nothing.
Ghoa stops outside of my hovel and crouches to peer in at me. “Enebish?”
“You came,” I say, which is so idiotic, I could strangle myself.
“As requested.” Ghoa frowns at the soggy boards teetering over me. “Are you really sleeping here? This isnotwhat I envisioned when you told me you’d secured shelter.”
“It’s not like there are many options,” I say, then quickly add, “for someone like me. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Of course. Your message sounded urgent.” She leans closer, her eyes sparkling with expectation.
When I don’t respond immediately, her face flattens into the serious, disgruntled expression she wears during war council.
Just as I intended.
I know better than to blatantly lie to her—she would sniff that out in an instant—but I pick my words as I would winterberries, careful to pluck only the sweetest fruit. “It’s been an excruciating week,” I say, clutching my arm to my chest.
“Why? Are you injured?” She quickly scans my body, and my heart swells to see such genuine concern in her eyes. “What happened? Is the pull of the darkness too much?”
“I’m fine. Nothing more than my usual complaints. I just forgot how taxing this is, how strong you must be. How do you do this, day in and day out?”
Ghoa props her elbows on her knees and buries her hands in her hair. “Please tell me you didn’t call me here to complain about being tired and lonely.”
“No. There’s a reason, of course. I would never waste your time. I just thought … I don’t know. I feel so out of my depth, and I don’t want to let you down, and—”
“Scoot over,” Ghoa commands, but there’s a hint of tenderness in her voice as she eases down beside me in the leaves. “I know it’s been a long while since you’ve served in an official capacity, so I willattemptto be patient.” She winks because we both know she is the least patient person across the Unified Empire. “Now, tell me, what’s so urgent that I had to traipse out to this flea trap at the crack of dawn?”
I pull the gray wool blanket onto my lap and hand her the corner embroidered with the ram. “I’ve been seeing this symbol all over the grazing lands. On blankets and head scarves and bags.”
Ghoa fingers the stitching and looks up at me. “And?”
“Don’t you find that strange? It could be a secret icon of some sort. A code between members of a certain group, perhaps?” I lift my brows knowingly.
Ghoa considers the ram again and frowns. “Perhaps … though, it looks like a common adornment to me. How else would shepherds embellish their belongings, if not with their animals? Have you asked the Shoniin girl you’ve been meeting with about it?”
“I’ve hinted at it, but I don’t want to seem pushy.”
“Doesshewear this ram on her clothing?”
“Well, no, but—”
“How are you even certain she’s one of them?” Ghoa asks, her voice growing sharper.
Orbai ruffles her feathers in the tree overhead. Never one for conflict.
“The girl complains openly against the Sky King,” I say. “And she speaks often of herfriendswho are of a like mind.”
Ghoa pinches the bridge of her nose and blows out a breath. “Have you considered that herfriendsmay simply be other shepherds who are disgruntled about their living conditions?”
