“Temujin will release your friend soon,” she says as we skirt around the bonfire. “Try not to take it personally. He’s just cautious—and under an enormous amount of pressure.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of defending him?”
“Do you ever get tired of defending Serik?” Inkar shoots back. “They’re not so different. Brash and extreme, but fighting tirelessly for what they believe in.”
Except Serik doesn’t blackmail people and break promises to get his way,I’m tempted to say. But I don’t bother because, in Inkar’s eyes, Temujin is beyond reproach. And because I’m not entirely certain Serikwouldn’tresort to those things if backed into a corner.
When we reach the shack, Inkar plops down on the top stair. “I’m supposed to give you ten minutes, but I’ll let you stay until someone comes looking. You’ve earned that, at least.”
“Thank you.” I muster a thin smile. “Truly.”
Inkar flips her long ponytail over her shoulder and shrugs. “Don’t thank me yet. If the rumors I’ve heard from the people who feed Serik are true, you’re going to have your hands full.”
“And it’s only going to get worse. Pray for me.”
Inkar chuckles, even though I couldn’t be more serious.
Taking a deep breath, I let myself in and wind through the musty dark. The supply shack is fairly large, but still I expected to hear Serik grumbling and pacing as soon as I entered. Instead, an odd, high-pitched plinking, followed by the sound of something tearing, drifts from the back of the room.
“What in the skies are you up to now?” I mutter as I circumnavigate the mountain of mismatched armor. Exhaustion pulls at my aching muscles, making my bad leg drag even more than usual. The toe of my boot catches on a helmet, and I crash to my knees. The strange sounds stop abruptly. By the time I climb to my feet and wade through the clutter, Serik is scrambling away from the bars of his cell. He drops to the floor, tucks his goldwork cloak around himself, and yells, “How thoughtful of you to feed me more than once today.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t bring anything to eat,” I say, holding out my empty hands.
“Enebish?” Serik spins around. His eyes narrow into slits instead of crinkling into the crescent moons I adore.
“You could at least pretend to be happy to see me.”
“Happy is the last thing I feel. You shouldn’t be here. You said—”
“I said I’dconsiderleaving, but we both knew I wouldn’t.”
“Why in the skies not?”
I groan and lean against the bars. I’m too tired to hash this out again. “Serik, please don’t be angry with me.”
“It’s not you I’m angry with. I can’t bear to be the shackle around your neck. I don’t want you aiding these traitors because of me.” He shuffles over to the bars, the guilt in his eyes as heavy as wet, trampled snow. I reach out and squeeze his hand, so he knows I don’t regret my decision. I’d save him a thousand times over.
“Would you feel better if it weren’t only for you?” I say carefully.
Serik’s freckled face crumples and he retracts his hand. “Who else could it possibly be for? Certainly notthem?”
“I ferried a group of deserters last night,” I admit. Better to plunge straight into icy water than attempt to wade in slowly.
A colorful array of curses flies from Serik’s mouth and he slams a fist against the bars. Then immediately winces. “Why would you do that?”
“To free you. And I wanted to see the war front for myself. We have to take a side.”
“No, we don’t. You and I can escape this place and—”
“And what? What can the two of us do alone?”
Serik looks down, muttering and massaging his knuckles.
“The conditions at the imperial encampments are appalling,” I say grimly. “Far worse than I could have imagined. Guards make constant rounds, but instead of defending against the Zemyans, they imprison our own troops. And the warriors are in dire condition—thin as bones, dressed in rags, and reeking of rot and infection.”
“Are you saying you believe their desertion is justified?” Serik demands.
I give a tiny shrug. “Enough that I’ve agreed to go on another mission …”
