I try to distract myself with the scenery. I knew Namaag would be wet and thick with trees, but nothing could have prepared me for the otherworldly beauty of the marshes. Rivers tangle and twist through the forest, each a different color: from midnight blue and algae green to silty brown and sulfur yellow. The air sits heavy in my throat and tastes sickly sweet with rot.
It’s the only Protected Territory I’ve never visited—King Ihsan allied with the Ashkarians long before I was born, when the Sky King convinced them to build aqueducts to Sagaan to end the drought, and they’ve caused little trouble since. There’s never been a reason to send the Kalima. We were busy engaging Zemya and acquiring the other territories.
A strange iridescent insect buzzes around my head, louder than the spice grinders in Nashab Marketplace, and the air fills with the calling of birds. Never in my life have I seen so many birds! Herons and egrets and ducks and ibis. Under other circumstances, I would adore them, but every snapping beak and rustling feather reminds me of Orbai—attacking King Minoak, choosing the scout, abandoning me when I needed her most.
Fury and heartbreak war for control of my heart, so all consuming, I don’t realize the caravan has ground to a halt until I slam into the back of a wagon. I expect to receive a death glare from its owner, but they don’t glance back. No one does. The entire caravan is entranced, gazing up at the city of Uzul just ahead.
It’s built high up in the canopy, on platforms and bridges that connect one behemoth tree to the next. My jaw hits my shoes as I take it all in. If any king should be called the Sky King, it is undeniably Ihsan. His feet probably never touch the earth. The roofs of the houses are thatched with moss, and the walls are constructed to look like leaves, blending perfectly into the foliage. Copper pipes that look for all the world like branches run beneath everything, sucking water up from the marsh and feeding it into the treetop homes.
Everything is green—as green as Kartok’s false Eternal Blue. Except for the flashes of yellow and orange and turquoise darting through the dense greenery. At first they register as birds, but as I squint harder, I realize they arepeoplehustling down the thoroughfares.
We don’t resume our march again for a long while. I presume Serik and the head of each shepherd family are discussing the tactics of our entrance—things that no longer involve me—so I nearly jump out of my skin and into the murky water when someone touches my elbow.
“Have you ever seen anything so incredible?” Serik’s hazel eyes glitter and there’s a new bounce to his step. Such a welcome change from the shadow-eyed wisp he’s become over the past weeks. “We made it, En.”
Barely,I want to say, but I refuse to take this moment from him. And he’s right. Namaag is unbelievable. I smile and hook my arm through his. “We made it,” I echo, “which raises the question, what areyou,noble leader, doing back here withme?”
“Ziva thought it would be best if she approached the Namagaans first, alone, so I had a moment to spare.”
Of course Ziva wants to go alone. Then she can make it look like it’s only by her good grace and connections that we’re allowed into the city.
“Stop that.” Serik digs his elbow into my side. “I can hear every awful thought running through your head.”
“Stop listening to my thoughts if you don’t like them,” I say with a wry smile.
Serik tugs me closer so his warm side presses flush against mine. “I understand why you’re frustrated with her.”
“Frustrated?” I choke on a cynical laugh. “She tried to kill Orbai and made me look like an erratic, unhinged traitor.”
“She’s far from innocent, but your response had just as much to do with the shepherds’ reaction. You attacked Ziva’s starfire instead of the scout. For good reason, though,” he adds before I can get angry. “You had to. Sometimes we can’t stop believing in our friends, even when they seem hopeless and lost. You never know when circumstances will change. Or when new truth will come to light.”
He looks over at me with those earnest crescent-moon eyes, and I melt. Completely and utterly incapacitated by the closeness of his lips and the fluttering in my stomach.
“You’re announcing your thoughts again,” Serik whispers.
“Are you fonder of the message this time?” I ask.
“Much.” His gaze drops to my mouth, but he reluctantly pulls away. “There’s still one thing I don’t understand—what was Orbai even doing with that scout?”
“Kartok healed her with Loridium, a type of Zemyan magic. It bound her to him,” I mumble, hoping the words will hurt less if I only half say them.
“Is that why she didn’t come with us when we left thexanav?”
I nod.
“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me this?” Serik manages not to yell. Barely. “Skies, En. Temujin and Kartok know what she means to you. They know they can use her to manipulate you and endanger us.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
Serik sighs. “I should get back, but I wanted to check on you and ask you to please help this to go smoothly. We need to convince the Namagaans this rebellion will work, which will never happen if they see us squabbling among ourselves. We need to present a united front, a capable—if not formidable—battalion.”
If anyone else was giving this speech, I would roll my eyes and shove them off, but I nod and say, “I know.”
“That means trusting me, and the group, to make the right decisions. And showing a willingness to trust our potential allies. And no more secrecy.”
“Isn’t that a little hypocritical?” I ask.
Serik’s brow crinkles. “What are you talking about?”
