“Just asyourpeople are invading our land?” I shove my palms into his chest. Forcing him away. Commanding him to stop.
“These areyourpeople, Ghoa…. At least they’re supposed to be. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“What bothers me is being harangued by a Zemyan! Why do you care? Chotgor’s weakness will make seizing the continent easier for you.”
“I don’t want the continent! And I care because you’re better than this!”
“No. I’m not,” I snap.
“You are! You sacrificed yourself to save your entire battalion. Then you endured Kartok’s torture without betraying the very people who left you to die. You were willing to work with Hadassah—andme! Not only are you leading me across your country, but you kept me from freezing to death.”
The longer his list grows, the more nauseous I become. I clamp my palms over my ears. “Enough! You know that wasn’t for your benefit.”
“I know that you’re fiercely dedicated to your position,” Ivandar counters. “You would do anything for Ashkar.”
“I would do anything to further mystandingin Ashkar!” The confession flies from my lips, and I can’t stop myself from flinching when disappointment fills Ivandar’s eyes. Which enrages me more. “Where is this even coming from? Who cares about Chotgor when the gods themselves are in danger?”
When Ivandar says nothing, I step closer. Puff my chest higher, preening with triumph. But it isn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. The prince stares past me, his pale eyes wide and blinking. He points over my shoulder with a thin white finger, which is when I realize his disguise melted away in his agitation.
Mine did too.
“We care about the Chotgori,” a familiar voice pelts me from behind. A voice that hounded me every day in Kartok’s prison. The last voice I heard when I was drowning in the Zemyan Sea.
“Enebish?” I gasp as I turn.
For a moment I see nothing but a flash of blinding white. It isn’t uncommon for my power to flare during battle, but it usually spirals outward, spitting ice at my enemies. It’s never clouded my vision like this. But then, I’ve never crammed myself full of so much additional cold.
As my vision clears, I see Enebish flanked by scores of people, who must be the shepherds she led from the grazing lands. They’re old and young, fierce and fragile. All of them unfamiliar and unimpressive on their own, but oddly unnerving as they pour from the abandoned houses and spread across the road like a massive herd of sheep.
Blocking our path.
Strands of long black hair whip across Enebish’s honey-brown eyes. Her expression teems with loathing. And as she aims her palms at my chest, I know she won’t hesitate to kill me this time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
GHOA
OVER THE COURSE OF MY TRAVELS, IHAD TIME TO PLAN MYrevenge, down to the smallest detail. So I’d be prepared and unflinching when I came nose to nose with every traitor who stabbed me in the back. I’ve pictured this reunion with Enebish more times than I can count. I gleefully imagined how terrified and remorseful she would look—and how ardently I wouldn’t care. How I’d crow with delight as I flung blades of ice at her chest. Shooting her down, just like her irritating eagle.
But now that she’s here, her traitor’s mark standing out starkly against her bloodless cheek, I can’t remember a single point of my battle plan. Gritty uncertainty fills the hollows the hot-spring water burned into my heart.
IknewEnebish despised me. She made that abundantly clear when she nearly killed me at Temujin’s execution. I’ve been plagued by phantoms of her snarling face for weeks. But for some reason, seeing the curl of her lips and the ruthlessness of her stare is more painful than I anticipated.
Probably because it’s the opposite of how she looked at me all those years ago when I pulled her from the wreckage of her hut in Verdenet.
Stop being so sentimental. So weak!that firm inner voice commands. Now I’m grateful for its sharp certainty.
“What are you doing here? With one ofthem?” Enebish growls.
“The better question is, what areyoudoing here?” I fire back.
“We came to free the Chotgori laborers, who the empire, apparently, enslaved.” Enebish laughs bitterly. “But you knew that, didn’t you? Just as you knew about these shepherds suffering on the winter grazing lands.” She gestures to the filthy people surrounding her, many of whom are bickering. “But you chose to ignore it. Because it didn’t benefit you. It’s always aboutyou. The empire is in shambles, yet here you are, hunting me and a caravan of shepherds for the sake of your pride and reputation. There isn’t a single drop of honor left in your bones, is there? No bottom to the well of your selfish desperation? First you betray me. Now your country.” She waves a trembling hand at Ivandar. “You’re no better than Temujin!”
Frost consumes my hair and continues hungrily down my neck and arms. My fingers twitch, eager to fling the icicles dangling from nearby storefronts at the lies spilling from her lips. “I amnothinglike Temujin.”
“Prove it.” Enebish squeezes her fist, and the dim arctic light fades even further, darkening into twilit blues and purples, enough to play tricks on my eyes and throw me off balance.
“I don’t owe you proof of anything, and I certainly don’t owethem.” I gather the snow and ice from the road with a flick of my wrists and send it spiraling around Enebish and her rebels.
