He shakes his head once. “Not yet. But I haven’t lost hope.”
“You shouldn’t. She was under Kartok’s influence so much longer.”
“I can’t decide if that’s comforting or terrifying.” His laugh is miserable—and heartbreaking.
“Have you petitioned Zemya?”
“Of course I’ve tried to call on Her, but the sacred hot spring is nearly drained….”
Part of me is surprised to hear Zemya complied with Her parents’ wishes and the other part isn’t at all. “She’ll find other ways to reach you,” I assure the prince.
He nods again, thoughtfully. “Can I walk you home before I return to my caravan?”
“I don’t think your entourage will wait that long.”
Ivandar’s brows lower with confusion. The little shack I rent is just outside the market. But tonight Serik returns from his first tour of duty with the Kalima.
Which means, tonight, I am finally goinghome.
The journey between Lutaar City and the tiny village of Sangatha takes four hours on foot. With my limp, it takes six. Half of the sun has already disappeared beneath the horizon when the first straw huts appear in the distance, but that somehow feels right. My power was born here. It’s only fitting it should die here too.
I glance up at the fading threads of darkness, churning and looping above me. Every day they merge a little more into one, becoming an inanimate expanse of black, as the Lady and Father recall Their powers. The night, as everyone else sees it.
Serik waits for me at the outskirts. He’s been stationed with his battalion in Zemya for the past four months, studying their tactics and formations in order to incorporate them into the Kalima’s repertoire, and since my village is so near to the border, it made more sense for him to meet me here. What doesn’t make sense is how he came.
I have to squint and shake my head to make sure it’s really him. Not because of the polished lamellar armor he wears and how it hugs his broadened shoulders and trim waist—though I definitely notice both. But because he’s sitting astride Ghoa’s massive black warhorse.
“Is thatTabana?” I call as I limp closer.
“You haven’t seen me in months and the first thing you ask about is myhorse?”
“Well, is it?” I say with a laugh.
“I thought I’d do the beast a kindness and use her after everyone else in the Kalima refused,” he explains as he dismounts. “But do you think she’s grateful? No. She punishes my generosity on a daily basis—rearing and biting and dumping me in the dirt. Ghoa’s probably putting her up to it. Laughing at me from the Eternal Blue.” Serik scowls at the horse, but he also reaches out and strokes her neck affectionately. Proudly, even.
“I think you’re a good match,” I say as I throw myself into Serik’s arms.
“Not half as good asthismatch.” He pulls me into him, murmuring into my hair, and I marvel for the hundredth time at how my head fits beneath his chin, as if the space had been chiseled just for me. At how his arms curl around my body, knowing just how to cradle my injuries.
“I’ve missed you,” I say, fisting his sunburst cloak—the only part of him that still smells faintly of pine ink and prayer scrolls. He was given a new one, of course, as part of his Kalima uniform, but he “lost” it almost immediately.
“You wouldn’t have to miss me if you changed your mind and decided to rejoin the Kalima….” Serik whispers.
With a snap of my fingers, Orbai dives through the swiftly encroaching darkness and screeches as she skims over Serik’s head. Close enough that he curses and ducks.
“Well, hello to you, too,” he calls as she banks around an outcropping of rock to have a second go at him. “I was going to tell you how much I’ve missed you, but it’s clear the feeling isn’t mutual.” He shakes his head ruefully and turns back to me. “Are you ready?”
I lace my fingers through Serik’s and nod.
Sangatha has been rebuilt in the ten years since Ghoa took me in—and nearly everyone I knew perished in the fire—but the winding streets are still well-worn paths in my memory. My feet carry me to my first home as if I never left it.
As we pass, people poke their heads from their huts to stare at us—at Serik, more specifically—and I’m more than happy for the shield. For the blissful anonymity. Between him and the thickening night, I’m hardly more than a shadow.
A new house has been erected where mine once stood. Thick and sturdy, with a freshly thatched roof. Smoke rises from a vent in the top and candlelight wavers in the windows, but I circle the hut anyway until I find a knob protruding from one of the wooden slats.
“What are youdoing?” Serik demands as I pull myself up.
“What does it look like I’m doing? Climbing to the roof.”
