Temujin gallantly lifts the tent flap and I duck inside—straight into a war zone. The floor is littered with balls of crumpled parchment and inkpots are tipped on their sides, oozing black puddles. Clothes are strewn everywhere, and his cot in the corner looks more like the nest of a wild beast than a bed.
I gape at the mess for a full minute. The chaos is so incongruent with the perfectly poised and confident leader he plays for the rest of the Shoniin. “How … lovely. Though you didn’t need to clean for my sake.”
He grumbles something about not having time as he shucks off his boots and tosses them in the corner. “Sit wherever you can find space.”
I make an exaggerated show of lifting a sock off a nearby stool before perching on it. “Why am I here? Clearly not for the traditional reasons a boy might bring a girl to his tent.” Temujin rolls his eyes and roots around on the floor until he finds a roll of parchment. “I need you to help me compose a letter to your sister. You know her best, and we need to lay out the terms of our offer in a way she and the Sky King won’t be able to refuse.”
He looks so hopeful and earnest, I decide not to tell him that the only letter Ghoa will accept is one of surrender, and spend the next several hours drafting the perfect missive. If Zemya continues advancing, perhaps shewillget desperate enough to accept the Shoniin’s help.
I spin her silver-and-onyx feather bracelet around my wrist. Some days it feels like a manacle, locked around my hand so she can always drag me back. But other times it feels like an anchor, the weight that keeps me grounded and guides me safely home. Either way, I can’t bring myself to take it off.
“Do you think I’m ready?” I don’t know why I bother asking Temujin. My week is up tomorrow and he’ll be sending me on a mission whether I’m ready or not. And the sooner I go, the sooner Serik will be released. The sooner we’ll know the truth. So I have no reason to delay. But a pit yawns open in my belly every time I think of wielding the night without the temple’s protection. When I think of what I’ll be doing: committing the biggest form of treason imaginable.
“All of the arrangements are nearly in place,” Temujin says. “Inkar is securing a horse for you to borrow, and Kartok, our associate at the war front, is memorizing the guard rotation.”
“Good,” I say, even though nothing about this mission sounds good.
“You look like a prisoner who just learned the date of their execution,” Temujin says with a snort.
“That may not be far from the truth….”
He gently tugs the end of my braid. “Stop doubting. You’re ready.”
I don lamellar armor for the first time since my banishment. I assumed I’d wear a gray Shoniin tunic, but Temujin wants me to blend in with the imperial warriors—in case arrows start flying. I’m grateful for the added protection. And even more grateful for the confidence it lends me. As I fasten the buckles and tighten the straps, it feels like I’m settling into a familiar embrace. With deft strokes, I swipe pine ink over my cheeks to conceal my traitor’s mark. Then I stride across Inkar’s tent to look in the little mirror on the desk.
“What do you think?” I ask Orbai, who’s perched on her branch behind me. She screeches and flaps her wings at the door, desperate to get out of the tent. I know she’s angry that she hasn’t been able to accompany me to the temple for training; I won’t let her anywhere near my starfire. Nor can she join me tonight. A bird as grand as Orbai doesn’t fly free across the grasslands. The imperial warriors will know she belongs to someone. And they’ll come looking for the owner. Or kill her to send said owner a message.
“I’m only trying to protect you,” I tell her, but she beats her wings again, holding even more of a grudge than usual. “Well, I think I look fierce. Like a warrior.”
I almost feel like a warrior too, despite the fact that I have no army to fight for. I’m not a Kalima warrior or a Shoniin warrior. Just myself. Enebish the Warrior. A lone mercenary for hire. Which, on the one hand, is terrifying, but on the other hand is somewhat freeing.
The moment I duck out into the sunlight, Orbai rockets into the sky without so much as a screech of goodbye. “Thanks for the vote of confidence!” I yell after her, making a mental note to set aside time just for her after this mission. I’ve been busy training, but I didn’t think she minded. She’s always off spiraling through the sunshine and badgering the hoopoes.
I’m still watching her shadow grow smaller and smaller when Temujin arrives with Inkar and Chanar.
“Kartok will be waiting for you in the Boneyard,” Temujin reminds me for the hundredth time as he leads us through camp and across the globeflower field.
“And I secured the fastest horse in the grazing lands for you. It’s tied to the large maple near the eastern border,” Inkar says.
“And if there’s a delay, you can access rations in the outskirts of Baimur. Or you could always just do what you do best and burn the Imperial Army encampment to cinders.” Chanar claps me hard on the back.
I wheeze as if I’ve been punched.
Inkar swats her brother. “You’re the worst. Pay him no mind, Enebish. He’s just pouting becauseheused to be the one scheming in Temujin’s tent.”
“I don’t want to do any of this, if that helps?” I tell Chanar with a self-deprecating laugh.
He doesn’t crack a smile. “That actually makes it worse.”
“You’ll be brilliant.” Inkar buries me in a hug, squeezing me tight through my armor. “The Bone Reader said the universe confirmed it.”
Temujin holds out his palm, on which sit two cerulean stones. They’re the precise color of the bonfire and they pulsate with the same strange glow.
“What are those?” I ask.
“Portal stones. They allow you to travel between the Ram’s Head and the Eternal Blue without me. All you have to do is throw a stone at the barrier.”
I stare hungrily at the little blue rocks. It takes all of my restraint not to snatch them from Temujin’s hands and sprint for the prison shack. They’re my and Serik’s ticket to freedom. All I have to do is steal more later.
