It shudders to life in my belly, and for once, I do not try to tame it. I let its frenzy burn through me like wildfire. I dare it to slash through the paper-thin barrier of my skin.
The moonstone trembles in response, pumping its infuriating, serene vibrations through my chest. The sweat dotting my forehead dries. Exhaustion drags at my arms, as if I’m wearing iron vambraces. Before the moonstone can sing the monster to sleep entirely, I throw myself at Ghoa.
She raises her hands to block my attack, but I’m not coming forher.I need to get Orbai to a healer. And I need to ensure Ghoa can’t stop me or follow me. Which means I need the cover of darkness.
At the last moment, I dive for her boots. Using my good hand, I snatch her dagger, push to my knees, and raise the knife.
Ghoa flexes her fingers and a saber made of ice swirls from her fist. It’s five times the length of my dagger. “Put it down, Enebish. You don’t want to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” I growl. Then I turn the knife on myself, angling the tip of the blade beneath the moonstone. It’s trembling so violently, it feels hot instead of cold. It pumps its poison through me, telling me to drop the knife. To back away from the monster.
I gasp and press harder.
“Stop!” Ghoa roars, but I shove the dagger deeper, carving the poisonous rock from my skin.
White-hot pain lances through me. Rivulets of sticky blood seep down my chest, and I squeal because it feels like I’m cutting out a lethal tumor and an essential organ all at once.
As soon as the moonstone plunks into the snow, a delicious, familiar tingling reignites in the back of my throat. A steady thrum of heat builds in my palms until I thrust them to the side and tilt my face up to the heavens.
The sun has risen over the river, painting the sky a brilliant tangerine, which should make summoning the night difficult—especially for someone so out of practice. But as soon as I flex my wrists, the ribbons of darkness wing from the forest like bats. As if they’d been waiting for me all this time.
I catch their smoky tails in my fists and slam them to the earth with a scream. Blackness swallows the grazing lands, and I bask in its seductive touch, caressing my face like an old friend.
Because I am a Night Spinner, I can still see everything perfectly. The dilapidated lean-to and spiderweb branches of the forest are simply gray and slightly fuzzy around the edges. But Ghoa can see nothing. It’s a darkness so complete, she’ll forget light ever existed.
“Enebish!” She stumbles back with her arms outstretched. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry. I feel awful for hurting your bird, but you purposely provoked me. We’re both at fault. Be reasonable, release the night, and we can find a healer together.”
I laugh because we are well beyond the point of reason. And we can’t “find a healer together” because no one can know I left Ikh Zuree. No one can knowshelost control of her Kalima power.
Before Ghoa can flood the air with cold, I sweep my foot beneath her legs. As she crashes through the lean-to, I scoop up Orbai’s flailing body and sprint into the trees. Darkness lashes the sky as I run, swallowing even more of the grazing lands. The hollow in the center of my collarbone feels like a chasm: treacherous and jagged and deep. I cough with every breath. The tingling in my palms burns like a handful of hot coals and the stars pull at me, begging to dive and burn and destroy.
Gasping, I tamp down the need. The monster shoves back. My grip on the night wobbles and the darkness spreads even farther. The way my hands are buzzing, there’s a good chance the blackout has spread to all of Sagaan. Perhaps all of Ashkar.
And I’m secretly glad.
Cradling Orbai against my chest, I rush toward the city center. Toward the Ram’s Head Tavern. And Temujin.
Our only hope of sanctuary.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE TAVERN IS DARK AND SHUTTERED,BUTITHROW MYSELFat the door, praying at least one of the Shoniin keeps watch at all times.
When no one comes, I start yelling Temujin’s name at the top of my voice.
The door flies open with a thwack, and a boy at least a head taller than I am looms in the entry. “Are youtryingto bring the imperial guards down on us?” he whisper-shouts.
“Help me,” I beg.
His gaze drops to the gaping wound at my neck where I cut out the moonstone, to Orbai mewling in my arms, and to the scarlet swirls of blood blooming through my tunic. He pales and takes a step back. “Whatever you’re mixed up in, we want no part of it. Who told you to come here?”
“Temujin! I’m one of you. Let me in.”
“I’ve never seen you before.” He places his hands on either side of the door frame, filling the entire space.
“I’m new.”
“Of course you are.” He scowls, and something about his close-set eyes, so brown they’re almost black, feels familiar.
