“We can’t give up this chance!” Serik insists. “This is what you’ve always wanted—whatwe’vealways wanted. Riding into battle side by side.”
I give a little shrug. “Hopefully there isn’t a battle to ride into—not for a long while. And circumstances change. What I thought I wanted isn’t what I actually need. I hope you can understand that. I’m not asking you to give up anything.”
Serik sputters and pulls at his hair, long enough to hang in his eyes now. “Don’t be ridiculous! I can’t just run off and join the Kalima without you!”
“You can and you should. A bird has wings for a reason, Serik. Let them carry you where you need to go, then fly back to me. We can have what we need and each other. It doesn’t have to be a choice. Just as it never had to be a choice for the First Gods.”
His hazel eyes find mine—hurt but understanding. “What do you want, En?” he asks softly.
What do I want?
I don’t know how to vocalize the breadth of it, but when I close my eyes, I picture it so clearly: the sand between my toes and the sun on my cheeks. Sandals cutting into my heels and the sweet scent of a grass roof lulling me to sleep. The sound of my mother’s voice on the wind and the taste of my father’s lentil stew on my tongue.
I want to return to Verdenet.
Not to recreate a time that was before. But to charge forward—into the future by way of the past. To continue reviving and fortifying my home and my people.
And, hopefully, myself.
EPILOGUE
ENEBISH SIX MONTHS LATER
ZIVA DROPS HER WOODEN SWORD FOR THE TENTH TIME INless than twenty minutes.
“Focus, Zivana!” I shout across the sandy sparring ring, using her full name to vex her even more. “A queen must always keep her head. Especially under pressure.”
“Iamfocusing!” She snatches her sword—much too forcefully. It jabs her leg and her sparring partner, a Zemyan boy named Josaf, chuckles as she yelps. As do the hundred other trainees spaced across the practice field recently erected outside of Nashab Marketplace.
Any youth across the continent who wishes to hone their skills in self-defense is welcome to attend my training, and I have a good mix of students from each of the five nations. Hopefully the peace between our countries lasts centuries longer than the war and they won’t ever need these skills, but it’s better to be prepared. To ensure that future generations know how to defend themselves and, more important, how to communicate.
It’s a small way I can give back. Something I surprisingly enjoy—Inkar taught me that. And a way to pay homage to my own mentors—Ghoa and Tuva. And the Lady herself, in a way.
“Wielding the night was so much easier,” Ziva mutters as she retakes her position.
“Maybe you should cut her a little slack,” Ivandar suggests from where he leans against the fence beside me. He visits every couple of months to observe the Zemyan students’ progress.
He spoke quietly enough, but Ziva cuts her eyes at him and points her wooden blade in his direction. “I do not want slack. Do you thinkyourpeople will cut me slack when I am queen?”
The group falls silent, tense, awaiting the Zemyan ruler’s reply. At times these newly forged relationships feel like treading across a field of sabers. Bloody wounds seem almost inevitable. But every day that we keep on trudging, our feet grow a little bit tougher.
Instead of taking offense, Ivandar tilts his head back, pale skin pink and sweaty beneath the desert sun, and laughs. “By the time you’re queen of Verdenet, my people will have heard so many tales of you making a complete and utter fool of me, they would never dream of mocking you.”
The group joins in with Ivandar’s laughter, and eventually even Ziva cracks a smile.
“You’re making impressive progress, En,” Ivandar says an hour later, when the trainees put up their wooden swords and disperse back into the marketplace.
“Thanks. They have a long way to go, but they’re eager to learn.”
“I’m not talking about them. I never doubted for a second that you’d be an excellent teacher. I’m talking abouther.” The Zemyan prince nods up at the sky where Orbai circles and swoops. As constant and predictable as the sun.
After a few slow weeks of reacquaintance, it was like someone pulled a lever in my eagle’s mind and Orbai was suddenly Orbai again. Clicking in my ear and chewing holes in my tunic, looking for treats.
I cried so hard and hugged her so tightly, she refused to come near me the entire day after. And I spent so long thanking the Lady of the Sky, She probably never wants to hear from me again. But I had to let Her know how grateful I am. How seen I feel. She has thousands of children across the continent, but She takes the time to hear me. To know and bless me.
Ivandar watches wistfully as Orbai lands on my outstretched glove.
“I take it there’s been no improvement with your mother?” I ask sympathetically.
