The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,141

against her body eases a fraction.

Shaking, I whisper, “You killed him. You killed Daoman.”

Her eyes are rimmed in red and her voice is hoarse. “Yes.”

A tiny little shard of my heart crumbles away, despite what I already knew.

“He loved you too, you know.” I don’t bother to stop the tears—I let them spill down my cheeks. “We were both children when duty called us, and he loved you too. So did I.”

Elkisa’s reddened face goes redder still, tension gathering in her body until it bursts out of her in a ragged scream. She struggles against her invisible bonds, heels kicking against the tree, but she cannot move much farther than that.

“Bind her, and stay and watch her when I’ve gone,” I tell Jezara, hardening my heart. I can only let myself care about one thing now. “I will go after Inshara alone.”

Elkisa gives a cry of alarm. “You mustn’t!” she croaks. “Please—you can’t. You’ll destroy each other.” There are tears on her face now too—though whether of emotion or of sheer physical terror, I cannot know.

Jezara hasn’t moved to follow my instructions—instead, she’s looking past me, her round face worried. “Nimh … I think you should wait,” she says, the normally low, steady voice quaking with the effort of sounding calm. “You don’t yet understand this power of yours.”

With the mist holding Elkisa fast against the tree, I glance over my shoulder.

“I don’t care.” I’m speaking between clenched teeth, relieved to let anger take over from the deeper, more painful thing. Fury enough to distract from the gaping wound in my heart. “I’m going to go save him. I need to save him.”

“No! Wait! You can’t!” Elkisa wails. “Inshara was going to imprison him, but he fought back… .”

I start to interrupt her, but she shouts over me.

“North is dead!”

I stagger back a step, the mist faltering just enough so that Elkisa slides down the tree trunk to land on her feet. Then I ball my hands into fists and the mist pushes her back again. “You’re lying. You’re a liar—that’s all you do.”

“I’m not—I’m not lying, Nimh, I swear… .” Elkisa’s muscles strain, standing out on her arm, until she manages to get a hand to her waist. She works at something tucked into her waistband, and it takes her a few moments to pull it free and drop it to the ground between us.

It’s a ragged scrap of a red sash—my red sash. The one North tied around his waist to look like a riverstrider. To look like my riverstrider.

North is dead.

The words ring in the sudden silence of my mind. Everything is still, rage and pain frozen for a long, interminable instant. I’m standing in the eye of the storm, and any moment it will pass and hurl me back down into the maelstrom.

North is dead.

A scream rips its way out of my throat. The last thing I do is command the mist to slam Elkisa’s head back against the tree with a sickening crack—and everything goes white.

THIRTY-TWO

NORTH

A wash of color swims across my vision, blues and greens and golds blending together in an uncomfortable swirl. Snatches of memory dance just out of reach—a fleeting impression of trees overhead, a glimpse of the temple from afar. I see them through a shifting fog, and then they’re gone again. I blink and the ceiling snaps into focus.

“Ah, he’s awake,” drawls a voice beside me.

I turn my head, then immediately regret it as everything washes together again. Another blink, and this time it’s Techeki who comes into view. A flash of anger instantly goes through me and I swallow down nausea as I prop myself up on my elbows.

“What are you doing here?” I snap. “Not busy with your new goddess?”

Techeki stares flatly at me for a moment, then looks down to one side. When I follow his gaze, I discover the cat, who returns the man’s stare and meows loudly. With a sigh, the Master of Spectacle runs one hand over his shiny head and shoots me a long-suffering look.

“If I’d chosen her side, you would still be drugged, and I would have imprisoned you somewhere far less pleasant, boy. Tell me, is Nimhara safe?”

A small shock goes through me as he uses her honorific. Mistrust is quick on its heels. “I’m not telling you where she is,” I reply.

“Good, I’m glad to hear you’re at least that intelligent. If she returns, I will be ready to serve. In the meantime, I do what is required to keep