“You want us to perish so there will be more for you!” Emani cries, melting onto the shoulder of an old woman next to her.
“You wantusto perish!” Iree’s family shoots back.
“You’re bickering over nothing!” Serik’s boot knocks the bag of grain from Bultum’s hands. Everyone falls silent as wheat scatters across the wet cave floor. “These meager rations won’t keep us alive for much longer anyway.”
“Serik!” He’s right, of course. But I want to kick his head as hard as he kicked the grain for admitting it out loud. For giving the shepherds even more reason to fear and doubt. “Thankfully, we won’t need the rations much longer,” I say quickly, making my voice cheerful. “We’ll find King Minoak soon. Then we’ll rise against the imperial governor and retake Verdenet. Once we’re in Lutaar City, there will be plenty of food. It’s only a matter of days.”
Serik cuts me a weary look. Temujin is the one who informed me of the Sky King’s attempt to assassinate King Minoak. Temujin is also the one who claimed Minoak survived and escaped. And Temujin has proven less than trustworthy.
“You said it would be a matter of days when we arrived last week,” Iree groans.
“Precisely,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “We’ve only been searching for a week. That’s hardly any time.”
I look to Serik for support, and even though I can tell he’d rather continue spewing his depressing realism, his hazel eyes meet mine and he nods. “These things take time. We must continue to have faith.”
“Time is the last thing we have,” Bultum says, snatching up the now empty grain sack. “We won’t survive much longer.”
“You and Iree can split our portion to counteract the shortage,” I offer, because I clearly have to give themsomething.
Serik gapes with horror, but it’s too late—I’m already handing over the bag of wheat.
“And we’ll assign Azamat to guard the cavern,” I say. He’s old and far from honorable—he stole my staff as soon as I entered the winter grazing lands back when I first left Ikh Zuree—but he has no family, no loyalty, and, most important, he’s so stubborn, he cannot be bought.
This seems to appease Iree, Bultum, and their families. Though, they don’t thank me. That would require acknowledging I did something right.
“Do you know how hungry I am?” Serik mutters as the groups trundle their separate ways.
“Did you have a better solution?”
“Oh, I can think of a few…. If you let me knock out their teeth, they won’t be able to eat. Problem solved.Orwe could let nature take its course and allow the shepherds to starve. Then the survivors can eat the weaker people who perish first.”
“Serik!” I swat him hard.
“I know, I know. Patience, resilience, no cannibalism. Blah, blah, blah.”
“There’s nothing ‘blah, blah, blah’ about it. You’ve always wanted to be a warrior. Well, here we are. In the heat of battle.” I gesture across the cramped cavern, so overrun with bleating animals and bickering shepherds, it’s impossible to hear yourself think.
Serik appraises the group with narrowed eyes. “I guess I imagined being a Kalima warrior would involve more adoration and swordplay and less … thankless drudgery.”
He massages his blistered palms. Barely an hour passes when he isn’t required to warm the chilly air or heat the bathing water or clear a path through the drifts of snow and sand so the shepherds can leave the caves in search of roughage for their animals. Half the time he doesn’t even manage to accomplish these tasks. His power is too new, too volatile. He stands there, ears red and face grim, as the shepherds shake their heads in disappointment—as if heshouldbe able to flawlessly control the sky after mere weeks with a Kalima power.
Surprisingly, Serik never snaps at them. And he never stops trying. But every day his smile grows a little duller, his eyes a little less sharp and squinty. And sometimes when he’s asleep at night, I feel his power flare and sputter. He shivers and whimpers in his bedroll.
It’s too much strain for a warrior so new to their power. Too much strain foranyKalima warrior.
After tracking down Azamat and getting him situated at his post, Serik pulls me around a corner, out of sight of the shepherds. The glowing algae paints strange green patterns across his face that make him look even more exhausted.
I lace my fingers through his and squeeze. “Just a little longer. I promise. The scouts will return anytime, and I’m certain they’ll have found King Minoak.”
“But what if they haven’t?” he asks without looking at me. “I’m not doubting you,” he adds gently. “I hope you’re right—that Minoak lives and wants to lead us—but perhaps we should start making a contingency plan, just in case he’s—”
“Don’t say it.” I cut Serik off before he says the word that will ruin everything.
King Minoak isn’tdead.
He can’t be dead.
I refuse to even consider it. And we can’t make a “contingency plan,” because we have no other option. Without the aid of Verdenet, we will never be able to liberate and recruit the other Protected Territories, which means we’ll stand zero chance against Ashkar and Zemya.
