I try to pry my hand free, but now Serik tightens his grip. “En, you know it’s not in my nature to be tentative or levelheaded, but we can’t will a king into existence. Just as we can’t allow these people to starve to death. Or freeze if my power runs out.” He flexes the fingers of his free hand and frowns. “Some of the shepherds have been counseling and—”
“They’ve beenwhat?” My shrill voice echoes all around us. “Why didn’t you tell me immediately? If they’re plotting behind my back—”
“No one is plotting behind your back.”
“Do you think I can’t hear, Serik? They’re always grumbling and whispering and criticizing me. You don’t have to lie to protect me.”
“What are you talking about? No one is doing any of those things.”
I pry my hand free, fold my arms, and scowl.
“Yes, they complain,” he finally admits. “But not specifically about you. People are allowed to have conversations and opinions. If you outlaw that, our rebellion will start to feel an awful lot like the Imperial Army. And just because Ghoa and Temujin betrayed you doesn’t mean everyone else is going to do the same…. Try to have some faith,” he tacks on quietly.
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Assuming my allies won’t turn against me is as foolish as assuming the snow squalls won’t ravage the grasslands this winter when they have every year before. And since when does Serik spout lines about faith?
When I don’t respond, Serik takes me firmly by the shoulders, as if tightening the reins of a skittish horse. “Some of the shepherds are discussing entering Verdenet,” he says.
“If we do that, we’ll be subject to the imperial governor! We won’t be able to venture beyond the walls of Lutaar City and continue our search for King Minoak. Even if we miraculously find him within the capital, we’ll no longer have the element of surprise to retake Verdenet.”
“But they’ll have shelter and food, which is the most immediate concern. They’ve been through so much already. And they think we may be able to raise a resistance once we’re inside the city.”
I squirm. “It will never happen. The people of Verdenet would have done so already if they could.”
“Maybe not if they’re lacking leadership. I think—”
“You agree with them!” I fling my arms, forcing Serik to release me.
He sighs. “I never said that, En. I just think it might be good to have another plan. Options are never a bad thing.”
“We don’thaveoptions. If we enter Verdenet, we’ll be trapped. Imprisoned. Which means we’ll be sitting ducks when Kartok and the Zemyans attack. They’ll conquer Verdenet and all of the Unified Empire, and our efforts and suffering will have been for nothing. We’ll be subject to an even more merciless ruler than the Sky King. Why am I the only one who sees this?”
Before Serik can respond, a chorus of shouts ricochets down the tunnel, coming from the direction of the main cavern.
I drag my hand through my unraveling braid and the little muscle beneath my right eye jumps. “If they’re fighting over rations again, I swear to the skies I’m going to …”
“The scouts have returned!” The message echoes off the rocks and into my ears and I practically collapse with relief.
Thank the Lady and Father.
I rush back toward the cavern, my bad leg dragging painfully behind me. I’ve been straining it too much lately, bustling across these uneven floors and scaling the slippery walls. I need to be more careful. The only thing that could worsen this situation is if I’m unable to lurk and listen for deceit.
Serik hurries after me. As soon as his stride matches mine, he slips an arm under my shoulders. I don’t stop him or complain. He’s only trying to help. And I’ll get there faster and preserve my strength with aid. But I don’t let him support all of my weight. I refuse to put myself in a position where I could be dropped.
Not that I think Serik would drop me.
But I didn’t think Temujin and the Shoniin or Ghoa would drop me either.
We burst into the main cavern and hurry to where a horde of shepherds gathers around the three scouts who have been scouring the desert for Sawtooth Mesa. It’s where the kings of Verdenet have always gone for their Awakening—when priestesses of the First Gods chisel the royal tattoo onto their legs. It’s a sacred ritual: The future king lies faceup on the tabletop of sandstone, completely bare and vulnerable before the Lady of the Sky for three days. The weather She chooses to send is representative of that future king’s reign. After the ceremony, kings often return to the mesa to pray and meditate. But the Ashkarians wouldn’t know this because they don’t worship the First Gods and they showed no interest in learning our traditions. And the temple is located in the center of the mesa, cut into the earth like ant tunnels, making it completely invisible from below the butte.
When Minoak wasn’t camped near the Lady’s Lake, where infants are presented to the Goddess for naming, or hidden in the Father’s Arms—a small oasis blossoming in the middle of the desert—Sawtooth Mesa came to mind next. It’s the perfect hiding spot for a hunted king, as only his people would know of it.
“What news?” I call as we hobble closer.
King Minoak isn’t with the scouts. That’s the first thing I notice. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He’s a king; he wouldn’t risk following strangers without proof of identity and guarantees of our intentions.
The second thing I notice is how the scouts flinch at the sound of my voice. How they refuse to meet my eyes.
“Well?” I demand. “Did you find him?”
