Night Spinner (Night Spinner #1) - Addie Thorley Page 0,10

Unlike yours.”

“Go back to the war front and torment the Zemyans. We were getting on fine without you.” He storms across the room, the tapestries tossing in his wake. Ghoa pretends not to notice, but veins of ice branch out from her fingertips, splintering the armrests of her chair.

She scoots closer to me and continues in an overly bright voice, “How have you been feeling? Your injured arm and leg?”

“Fine, I suppose.” I force a smile after her shoulders sag, so she knows I don’t blame her. If she hadn’t been brave enough to bury her saber in my arm and leg in order to stop my rampage at Nariin, there’s no telling how much worse it could have been.

“The stone’s kept you from having any more … outbursts?” She says the word carefully, whispers it almost.

Serik’s halfway out the door, but he whirls back around and slams his palms against the table beside Ghoa. A vase of yellow globeflowers topples to the floor. “Enough!” The porcelain shatters and petals scatter beneath our chairs. “Now that you’ve accused and offended us both, we’ll be leaving.” He offers me his hand and I stare at it, looking helplessly between him and Ghoa. I need them equally—in different ways.

Ghoa presses her fingers against her temples. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … Please stay. Both of you. I’ve brought gifts.”

Her expression is so heartrending, it feels like a spear tip burrowing into my chest. I glance up at Serik, begging him to try to be civil, but he scrubs his hand across his head and glowers at Ghoa.

“And what will these gifts cost us? Undoubtedly, they come with shackles.”

Ghoa blinks as if he slapped her. Woodenly, she sifts through her pack and extracts the finest fiddle I’ve ever seen. The sound box is covered in sleek black goatskin and the long neck, fitted with white horsehair strings, gleams with polish. She produces a matching bowstring and holds them out to Serik. “I’ve only ever wanted your love, cousin. You know that.”

Serik’s mouth falls open and he takes two hasty steps toward the instrument before remembering himself. “I know nothing of the sort.”

“Please take it, Serik. I brought it all the way from Dayun. I watched Master Inalchi make it in his famed shop on Market Square. Never have you heard such a pure, beautiful sound.”

“Master Inalchi made it?” His gaze snaps back to the fiddle.

Ghoa traces a finger down the frets. “He said it is fit for an expert, which I hear you are swiftly becoming.”

Serik sets his jaw. Resolute. But then he moans, snatches the fiddle, and retreats to the far corner of the room. He cradles the instrument the way I do the night, cooing and stroking it.

Ghoa watches him with a sad smile before reaching back into her satchel. “And something for you, En.” She tucks a violet bag stitched with black leaves into my hands. I turn the sack over and gasp as a delicate chain coils into my palm. It’s the most beautiful bracelet I’ve ever seen: tiny silver-and-onyx feathers touching end to end.

Ghoa beams as she leans over and clasps it around my wrist. “Do you like it? I thought it only right for the eagle trainer to have wings of her own.”

“I love it,” I say breathlessly. And I do. But tears tumble down my cheeks, and this time I’m too overwhelmed to hold them back. The gift is perfect, and at the same time, an exquisite mockery; I will never be able to fly away with wings made of stone.

“What’s wrong? What have I done now?” Ghoa looks up at the ceiling. Her voice is so soft, so tired. So unlike Ghoa.

“Nothing,” I say. “The bracelet is beautiful. And I’m so glad you’ve returned. How long will you be staying?”

“As long as it takes. The Sky King has given me a special assignment in Sagaan.”

I wipe beneath my eyes and wait, but Ghoa looks down at her lap and shrugs.

Of course she can’t tell me about her mission. I’m nothing but a keeper of birds. I trace the feathers around my wrist, and a brittle silence envelops the room. The water from the broken vase slowly freezes on the floor.

Ghoa touches my elbow, but I can’t look at her. It hurts too much to see everything I’ve lost. I wrap my arms around my middle, wishing I could squeeze the envy and bitterness out of me. She’s my sister, my dearest friend. If I had