A week should have been more than adequate. A competent commander would have found them in days. Hours.
I can’t tell if the voice of censure is coming from myself or the Sky King, but it makes no difference. We are one and the same. His will is my own.
The spice traders scream, which is when I realize I’ve crushed the missive in my fist—though not before freezing it. Brittle shards of parchment escape my fingers and slash around us on the wintry breeze. The woman falls to the ground beside the man and they cover their heads, finally ready to cooperate. But orders are orders. Without a word to either of them, I bring Tabana around and dig my heels into her flanks.
We ride northward for five days, the snow-streaked grasslands blurring past, until the city of Sagaan rises up around me. A fortress of towering spires and impenetrable walls surrounding the glittering splendor of the royal complex. Whatusedto be the royal complex, I correct myself as I gallop into the wreckage. The white façade of the Sky Palace is blacker than crumbling coal, the spires are ensconced in scaffolding, and the acrid tang of smoke still blankets the air.
The rebuilding will take months. Years. An opened wound, left to fester.
No matter how many times I see the devastation, I will never get used to it. And I will never forgive Enebish. Not only did she turn her back on me, but she turned her back on the Sky King. On our empire.
“Welcome home, Commander,” Reza, my page, calls from the front of the blue stone treasury building.
I look past the boy, my eyes narrowing into slits. This smoldering wreckage isnotmy home. And where in the name of the Sky King is Varren? My second-in-command always greets me to relay messages and reports from the war front. Why am I stuck with this knobby-bonedchildwho knows nothing? He isn’t even supposed to address me—or leave the barn—and I’m about to remind him of this, but his eyes are so eager and adoring and he pulls his shoulders back in an effort to impress me. This small show of veneration defrosts my anger a fraction.
Until he opens his mouth again.
“Did you make any progress, Commander?” Reza asks hopefully.
My back goes rigid. I dismount and toss the frozen reins at his face.
Iwouldbe making progress if they’d let me do my job instead of summoning me back to Sagaan.
“What do you think?” I bark to avoid the question.
Reza beams and gives me the Kalima salute, even though he’s magic-barren, and hurries off to the stables with Tabana.
I march up the steps and slam through the heavy brass doors of the treasury. It’s nearly as cavernous as the Sky Palace, comprised of two wings that intersect like a cross. Silver molding adorns every wall, and a glass dome crowns the center of the spiral staircase. When sunlight streams through the diamond-cut panes, the vivid blue walls glow like lightning bugs on the grasslands.
I used to think it was beautiful. Serene, even. I would sneak over here and sit in the stairwell when I needed a break from the endless bustle of the Sky Palace. It reminded me of slower, more carefree days, when Papá would bring me to his office and teach me to balance ledgers and manage the royal coffers. I always found the steady clink of coins and murmured transactions so comforting. Like a song, in its own way. But ever since the Sky King claimed the treasury as his temporary residence, those soothing sounds have been replaced by the clomp of boots, the rattle of weapons, and, ever more increasingly, the sound of his raging criticism.
“Varren!” I call, my own voice grinding with exasperation when he isn’t waiting in the atrium beneath the glass dome either. And Cirina isn’t ready with towels and a change of clothes. The thin coat of irritation varnishing my skin like sweat hardens into ice. How dare they summon me, then fail to prepare for my arrival!
“Varren!” I yell again as I storm toward the vault—our newly minted war room. It’s the only place prying ears and treacherous arrows won’t breech. When my second still hasn’t appeared by the time I reach the hidden door, covered in oak paneling to match the rest of the hall, I vow to demote him.
I spin the lock.
Right, left, right.
“There had better be a damn good reason for disrupting my search,” I say as the door swings inward. “What could possibly be so important?”
My voice trails off and my boots freeze in the threshold. Arctic flurries whip around my wrists as my arms slap against my sides. There, seated at the long ebony table we dragged in from the assembly hall, is every Kalima warrior. Including Varren. And at the head of the table sits the Sky King.
“What’s this?” I look from face to face, trying to keep my voice level, but it pitches higher with each word. “What are you doing here?” I point at Iska and Eshwar. “You’re supposed to be patrolling the highway between Sagaan and Lingosk.” I turn to Karwani and Vanesh, who stare at the table as if it’s inlaid with gold. “And you’re assigned to watch the fish market a day’s ride from Chotgor.” They all look down and away. My heart pounds so wildly, it echoes off the steel walls. Filling the tiny room.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. If everyone has been recalled, it must be for a good reason. “You’ve found them?” I ask hopefully.
Still no answer.
The ticking of the clock has never been so deafening.
I spit out a hysterical laugh. “What sort of conspiracy is this? It isn’t any wonder we haven’t captured the traitors. You’re not even looking for them!”
The Sky King rises with maddening slowness. “Just because they’re not followingyourorders doesn’t mean we aren’t hunting the traitors.”
I try to make sense of his words. “Whose orders are they following if not mine? You gave me complete control. Full confidence.Find them. By any means necessary….Is that not what you said?” I think back to his command, how he stared at me inside this very vault with such pride and conviction. What about all the routes and rotations I’ve mapped? All the missives I’ve written? All the detailed reports I’ve received?
Did they carry out any of it?
