“As have I,” the Father agrees.
They stare at Ashkar, who grudgingly adds, “And I.”
“And if there’s no quarrel between us, there’s no reason they need the sky to defend themselves,” the Lady explains.
Zemya looks skeptically at each of them. “What exactly are you saying?”
“As a show of our commitment, and as retribution for our mistakes, we will withdraw our powers from Ashkar.”
My throat constricts around a gasp of utter shock. The other Kalima warriors cry out with even more outrage—Serik loudest of all. In the Eternal Blue, they all briefly experienced how it feels to be powerless. Ordinary. Weak.
A state I was forced to endure for two years at Ikh Zuree. A state I learned to survive. Thrive in, even, once I silenced my oppressors and started trusting myself.
Serik too. He was brave and fierce and battle-ready long before he could wield the sun’s fiery rays. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe none of us have ever truly needed power beyond our own faith and fortitude and determination.
“Without the sky, your people will be nothing,” Zemya exclaims, making the Kalima shout even louder.
The Lady of the Sky gives a little shrug. “Or perhaps they’ll be forced to find themselves—to innovate and discover their own strengths—as you once did….”
The Lady of the Sky extends Her hand to Zemya.
She stares at the Lady’s offering, then turns to gaze at Her people, suspended in battle. Winning, but for how long? And at what cost? Laying down weapons and grudges doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve lost the war. Sometimes it achieves the boldest victory.
Ghoa taught me that.
After another scowl and an exasperated shake of Her head—as if She’ll instantly regret it—Zemya takes Her mother’s hand.
The sky explodes with darkness and light, with wind and rain and stars. We drop onto our stomachs and cover our heads as hail gouges the obliterated palace and sleet washes the blood from the Grand Courtyard. It reminds me of the howling surge of darkness that whipped around me every time I called the night inside the Temple of Serenity in Kartok’s false Eternal Blue. An explosion of wild, unbridled power. But unlike that deception, this is both cleansing and punishing. A show of power and restraint. A final reminder of who rules the skies.
The storm lashes us for what feels like hours, growing steadily stronger, until it clears just as fast as it came. As if swept away by a wave of the Lady’s hand, to reveal a lustrous, clear blue sky. Everyone in the courtyard peels themselves off the ground and looks to the palace steps.
But the First Gods have vanished.
And so have our reasons to fight.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ENEBISH
THE GATHERING OF THE FIVE NATIONS IS SCHEDULED TO TAKEplace in Sagaan exactly two weeks after the ceasefire. The warriors conscripted from the territories and the Zemyans wanted to rush home immediately, but everyone agreed we must lay careful groundwork. So the foundation of our new alliance is as immovable as the peaks of the Eternal Blue. We owe it to the thousands of people who perished fighting this endless war. And we owe it to ourselves, too.
The Chotgori clans, Namagaan soldiers, and shepherds who fled the ice caves arrive first, a mere four days after our summons. Readily flocking to join us, now that the danger has passed.
Almost all of Ashkar takes to the streets to welcome the clan leaders as they trudge in from the snowy grasslands, but I remain in the treasury. Inside Ghoa’s father’s office, where I find myself more and more often—when I’m not tasked with keeping the fragile peace between so many opinionated kings, that is. Or helping to rebuild the homes and shops that were destroyed by the Zemyans.
The rest of Sagaan is slowly beginning to unbury from the rubble, but this room remains untouched—utterly wrecked from the siege. Books and ledgers lie ripped and strewn across the floor, the furniture is hacked to pieces, and the broken window is covered with a tacked-up blanket. It’s cold and filthy and Serik and Ziva keep dropping less than subtle hints that my coming here is odd. Eerie. It’s where the Kalima betrayed Ghoa and where the Sky King perished.
But it’s also where Ghoa was reborn. If I kneel in the broken glass, still stained with blood, I can imagine how her ice bridge must have looked—white crystals spanning the blackness of the siege.
Sometimes I still don’t believe she sacrificed herself to save the First Gods. And sometimes I wish she hadn’t. It muddled everything. Colored the entire world in maddening shades of gray instead of stark black and white. I miss her and resent her. Love her and loathe her. The balance shifts by the day, sometimes by the hour—depending on how difficult the kings and Zemyans are being.
Serik stomps up the stairs and pokes his head through the door. “You’ve got to stop hiding out in here. Morbid obsession aside, it’s freezing. And it smells.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind the smell. And it’s easier than all ofthat.” I wave in the direction of the main thoroughfare, teeming with Ashkarians and Chotgori, with Namagaans and Zemyans. They all came together—exactly as I wanted—but not in the way I planned or expected.Theywere supposed to stand with me against Kartok and the Zemyans.
Not Ghoa.
“Since when do you make your decisions based on what’s easiest?” Serik asks. “And do you truly blame them for fleeing the ice caves?”
