“What in the name of the Sky King …” I turn and squint down the hall. A second later, the massive glass dome over the stairs splinters. The cowards behind me scream as shards of colored glass fall like rain—even though we’re in no danger of being hit.
I remain silent. Still.
Listening. Watching.
It’s almost as if we’re under attack, but from whom? The Zemyans are advancing, but they couldn’t have reached Sagaan this quickly. They only just captured Ivolga. And Temujin and his pitiful rebels don’t have this kind of firepower. They’re all magic-barren deserters.
Save for one.
Enebish’s scarred face fills my mind: twisted with outrage during our argument in the spire salon. As if I did something unforgivable at Nariin rather than what was necessary to defend our country and fortify the Kalima. We needed a strong leader after Chinua’s death. Someone seasoned and dependable. It would have been disastrous if I’d been removed. Plus, the merchants could have easily been Zemyans. I had to counteract the threat.
Another boom shakes the walls, and my muscles stiffen with ice—harden with certainty.
“Don’t you have a scrap of honor?” I scream for my sister as I jog toward the shattered dome. “How can you turn your back on your family and country like this?”
How canyou?
I don’t know if she actually spoke, or if it’s the ghost of her voice spitting the accusation back at me, but Enebish’s face fills my mind again, bristling with fury and snarling for revenge. She looks just as she did before she flung her starfire at my chest—like an executioner wielding her blade.
There’s a moment of eerie quiet. Like the deep gasp of breath before a scream.
Then every shred of light is sucked out of the treasury.
CHAPTER FOUR
ENEBISH
THE DESERT SKYLINE FLARES WITH LIGHT. ASECOND LATER, vicious heat sears past me as the starfire I summoned slams into the crest of the nearest dune. Sand sprays into the air, even higher than the explosion Serik created to destroy the Shoniin’s encampment in the Eternal Blue. The debris blots out the stars and bitten moon. It strangles the cactus wrens as they fill the dusty sky.
I hold my breath and wait. The thief was well ahead of me. Almost out of range. But after five long seconds, the night rebounds with asnap.The stolen tendrils slingshot back to my hands and a shrill cry rends the night. An intense, visceral shudder works through me—the feeling of a thousand scorpions scuttling down my limbs.
If you’re not Enebish the Destroyer, why do screams still follow you?
It takes me much longer than I’d like to reach the wreckage. Long enough that my impressive attack will have lost most of its impact, but I eventually catch up with the thief. They’re dragging themselves through the sand on hands and knees. The ravaged ball of starfire smolders behind them, churning noxious white smoke into the air.
I don’t bother shrouding myself in darkness. There’s no point.
“I can’t believe you thought you could steal from us without consequence,” I say, my voice cold and hard. “Or beat me at my own game.”
The thief glances back and squeals. They hoist themselves to their feet and try to run, but the starfire grazed their left calf, leaving a long strip of shiny red skin. Burned to the bone.
“Stay back!” they yell, reaching skyward.
I freeze, bracing for a return volley of starfire. But the pricks of light above us barely quiver. “You don’t know how to call them, do you?” A twinge of laughter creeps into my voice.
The thief grumbles and surges forward, but thanks to their newly inflicted injuries, they’re no longer faster than I am. We limp on and on and on through the desert. My thighs burn and sand collects in the corners of my lips, but with every excruciating step, I manage to close the distance. I’m so focused on catching them, I don’t realize we’ve scaled a series of switchbacks and crossed a flat stretch of rock, until the thief drops into a square hole cut into the earth.
My heart stutters with disbelief as I peer over the edge—at the long colonnades and sandstone altar. At the ornate mosaic walls and hand-carved columns. A place our scouts swore they couldn’t find. A place they claimed doesn’t exist.
Sawtooth Mesa.
“Wait!” I cry, my mind scrambling.
The thief limps on.
I leap into the temple without considering the drop, and land in a painful crouch. Zaps of electricity climb my injured leg like wasps, but they’re easy to ignore. My entire body is tingling. Buzzing with newfound energy. I take off after the thief’s retreating shadow, more determined than ever to catch them.
They knew the way to the temple of the kings, which means they are Verdenese. And of high rank. They could know something about King Minoak.
