the goodness of my heart. Not because I plan on sneaking out.
At the end of the hall, I crack the door and slip like smoke into the moonlit courtyard. The night chitters in welcome, flocking to me like bees to budding globeflowers, delighted to have won our battle of wills again.
Now that I’ve submitted, the tendrils no longer growl like hungry panthers, but rub against my hands like sweet, purring kittens. I sigh and tilt my face skyward. The sensation is euphoric. More freeing than galloping across the grasslands with the wind in my hair. More satisfying than the whistle of an arrow flying straight and true toward the center of a target. Even better than the memory of Ghoa’s proud smile.
The thought of my sister makes my stomach lurch.
Ghoa wouldn’t be smiling if she could see me now. She risked her reputation and position as commander of the Kalima warriors to secure my sanctuary here. These midnight jaunts could jeopardize everything she’s worked for—and possibly her life. If I’m caught meddling with the darkness, the king could easily execute us both. And while I came to terms with my own execution long ago, I would rather die a thousand deaths than watch Ghoa swing beside me.
The horrifying image nearly sends me scuttling back to my room, but the night kisses my cheeks and buzzes in my ears, singing my worries away. In order to punish me, the king would have to visit Ikh Zuree to witness my disobedience, and since neither he nor Ghoa have set foot inside the monastery compound since my banishment, they never need to know I’ve allowed myself this tiny taste of freedom.
The chilly autumn breeze whispers through my cloak, and I draw the hood around my face as I hobble down the pebbled pathways. The monastery at Ikh Zuree is massive, with hundreds of bone-white prayer temples and dormitories encircling a towering jade assembly hall that stands in the center like an ever-watchful eye.
Tonight, the moon hangs heavy and full overhead, bathing the snow-dusted pathways in brushstrokes of light. Beautiful, yes, but it makes sneaking around far more difficult. My fingers twitch out of habit. Before my imprisonment, I could have gripped the threads of darkness spooling down my arms and swathed myself in shadow. I could have flounced across the complex as I pleased, invisible as a ghost. The only one able to see through the oppressive blackness. But now I’m forced to dart from temple to temple like a petty marketplace thief, my Kalima power nothing more than a fuzzy memory that passes swifter than the glacial breeze.
When at last I reach the mews at the northern edge of the compound, my convocation of eagles screeches in welcome. They flap their wings and blink down at me from their perches. Feathers litter the floor like gold-spun carpet, and the familiar sounds of nesting and preening make the tightness in my chest and shoulders vanish. At least the birds are always glad to see me.
The king keeps his hunting eagles at Ikh Zuree, and it’s my duty to feed and train them. In the kingdom of Ashkar, even prisoners must make themselves useful. Most dig trenches or haul heavy artillery to the war front, so I’m grateful to have a position I like so well. With the birds that never cower in my presence or call me ugly names that make me cry in my chamber late at night.
They are my only friends. Other than Serik.
I flit around, patting and scratching a few, until Orbai shrieks with impatience and scuttles back and forth on her perch. “You’re even more demanding than the night,” I mock-scold her. She always encourages my midnight rebellions because it means she gets a few extra hours of freedom—and she has developed a taste for bats. I offer her my arm. “Just because you’re my favorite, doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.”
Except it does. And she knows it.
We return to the waiting darkness, and Orbai shoots into the blackness like a comet. Her feathers glint like liquid amber and her massive wings send the ribbons of night swirling. I smile at the chaos. Wanting to follow. Needing to be up there too.
While she stalks the skies, I duck behind the smallest prayer temple and run my fingers along the mosaic wall until I find the bloodred eye of a serpent, which I accidentally wiggled loose when I scrubbed the temple last month. I jam my boot into