“Except they know I would never endanger you. We may not be on the same side of this dispute, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” His eyes find mine, peering at me from beneath his lashes, and a thick knot of emotion lodges in my throat. I part my lips to tell him I don’t know what he’s talking about, that I don’t know how he feels about me, but that would be a lie because Idoknow.
I have known for a long time.
It’s written in his every action: the long, charged looks when I swear he can see straight into the core of me; the amused, knowing smirks and playful nudges; the hours we lay in the monastery grass, planning for a future that could only be together; all the vile curses he flung at my tormentors and the impious jokes he made so I would laugh instead of cry; how he defended me stalwartly and believed in me completely, even when no one else would; how he pushed me to wish for more than my pitiful existence in the monastery.
No one has ever loved me more, or loved me better, than Serik. And I love him too. I have always loved him, since the first moment I arrived at Ghoa’s parents’ estate and found him huddled in his oversized sunburst cloak. But I never allowed myself to consider loving himlike thatbecause it was impossible. Our worlds rarely crossed—I was serving in the Kalima and he was pledged to the brotherhood, bound forever to the abba and Ikh Zuree. And when we were finally reunited, I was a criminal, one misstep from the gallows.
But now …
I look up at the endearing crinkles around his eyes and the perpetual crease of his brow. He isn’t obviously handsome like Temujin, but all the little subtleties that only I would notice—like how his copper freckles look like a constellation of floating lilies, and how his ears turn pink when he’s angry, and how his long, taut muscles fill out his holy robes—add up to more than the sum of their parts. He is messy and exquisite, volatile and perfect, and as I grapple for words to adequately describe what he means to me, he steps closer. Closer. Until we’re chest to chest.
Heart to heart.
His hands cup my cheeks, trembling and tentative at first. When I don’t pull away, his fingers slide into my hair. Fire builds in my belly, heating me like a coal, and I grip the front of his red robe, like I’ve secretly imagined doing so many times. I trail my fingers over the stubble of his hair and steal a glance at his lips, remembering how red and full they looked in the cold at Qusbegi.
It’s all so familiar.So right,my heart cries.
I could close the breath of distance between us and press my lips to his. I could follow him back to Ashkar and lose myself in his moon-eyed smile.IfI had no one to consider beyond myself.IfZemya wasn’t charging across our border.
Ifour warriors weren’t being slaughtered like sacrificial lambs.Ifthousands of people in the Protected Territories weren’t being stripped of their beliefs.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” His eyes are so wide, his expression so anguished.
Tears blur between my lashes, and I force myself to take a step back. Just one step, but far enough that Serik’s hands fall away from my face. It feels like a canyon has cleaved open between us—a perilous gap too wide to jump, too treacherous to cross. There will be no following him.
No coming back.
I reach into my pocket and offer him a blue bonfire stone. “Temujin gave me one extra, in case of emergencies. This will take you back to the Ram’s Head. Go to the globeflower field and toss it into the air.”
Serik studies the stone with a strange expression before tucking it into his fist. Then he backs toward the door.
An icy knife plunges into my heart, carving out my flesh with every step he puts between us. When he bends through the flap, I sob and chase after him. The sky outside is hotter than ever, thanks to the fire, but I can’t stop shivering. “Join a caravan west to Visva. Or I hear you can make a decent living mining copper in the Ondor Mountains. Just get out of Sagaan. Keep yourself safe. And when all of this is over, find me.”
His eyes are pools of water, clear and wet and deep. His voice is thick and warbling. “Goodbye, En. I hope you’re happy. I honestly do.”
I bury my face in my palms so I don’t have to watch him walk away. And so I’m not tempted to follow him. Pain and exhaustion from my mission the night before slam down on me with double the force, like armor made of iron. Tears spill over my knuckles and run down my wrists.
By the time I finally compose myself and look up, Serik is gone. And he took part of me with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
WHENIWAKE THE NEXT MORNING,MY BODY FEELS Athousand years older: my legs have grown long roots into the earth, my face is raw and crinkled from tears, and I can’t muster up the strength to leave my bedroll.
Serik did what he thought was right. I can’t begrudge him that. But Icanbegrudge the ragged, bleeding Serik-shaped hole he left in my heart.
I groan and pull my blankets over my head. I can’t dwell on it. I’ll waver if I do. The weak and selfish part of me will be tempted to put my personal desires above the needs of the people. This is the right choice for me—the right choice for us both.
If it’s soright,why doesn’t it end with us together?I’m tempted to shout at the Lady of the Sky. Instead I turn on my side and command myself to go back to sleep. In my dreams, at least, I can pretend the separation is only temporary. I picture us lying side by side in the grass at Ikh Zuree. The morning gongs are sounding, calling us our separate ways for the day, and we wordlessly part, knowing we’ll reunite later. We always do.
Wewillreunite later,I assure myself.
Not if you waste time wallowing in your bedroll,Enebish the Warrior scolds.
I have to get up and see this through. I need to ferry more recruits and end the war. I need to remake Ashkar into a place where a former monk and redeemed criminalcanbe together.
With a bone-weary sigh, I drag myself up from the floor, pull on a gray tunic, and shuffle to Temujin’s tent to prepare for another mission. “Where am I going next?” I ask without preamble as I shuffle through the door.
Temujin is seated at his desk, with Inkar and Chanar perched on either side, as usual. They jump so high at my sudden appearance, a stack of scrolls cascades to the floor.
