Night Spinner (Night Spinner #1) - Addie Thorley Page 0,24

corner.

Her fingers hesitate slightly, and the king frowns. “Shall I allow someone else to finish the task?”

Several members of the Kalima step forward, as if waiting for this invitation.

Ghoa glares down at them and yanks the rope with all her strength. I shriek and twist. Tears fog my eyes. But inwardly I thank my sister; her harshest tug is sure to be far gentler than the other warriors’ weakest. Still, the wrenching pain penetrates to my bones. By stretching this arm, the other strains as well, yanking it out of joint. A scream carves up my throat, and I howl until there’s nothing left in my lungs. The sound is monstrous, even to my own ears, and the crowd bleats and brays like a herd of sheep beset by wolves.

“Beast!” they call me. “Destroyer!” The king raises his hands, encouraging them to cheer louder.

One by one, my limbs pull taut until I’m no longer standing on the ground but suspended in the zurig like a five-point star. The weight of my body causes me to list forward and back. Sweat races down my brow, stinging my eyes, and my breath rushes out in big, billowing puffs. I fight and thrash and roar like an animal caught in a snare.

Like a monster.

That tiny admission is all it takes; the wickedness inside me shudders to life, stretching its claws and shaking out its leathery wings.

No, no, no! I tip my head back, begging the Lady of the Sky for strength. Today, Her kingdom is the color of the tiny icicles clinging to the trees—a pale and translucent blue. So beautiful and perfect. Yet painfully far away. Has the sky always been so far? Or has She finally forsaken me too?

Frenzied and hyperventilating, my prayer trails off and I realize I’m alone on the palace steps. Ghoa and the Kalima warriors have followed the king back down to the courtyard, where they will watch me suffer for two long hours.

The minutes limp by slowly. I attempt to count them, hoping it will distract me from the pain and lull the monster into submission, and it works for a time. But as the sun inches higher, sizzling across my skin and blazing into my eyes—intensified by the Sun Stokers of the Kalima—I lose count. My mind warps. The churning in my gut intensifies, as does the insidious clawing at the back of my throat. My tongue is so chaffed and bloated, I can hardly swallow.

With every fresh wave of pain, the monster gains a little ground, climbing my ribs like a ladder. Soon it will tear free of my body, seize my dormant night spinning, and the people in the square will truly have something to scream about.

“Please!” I sob. “Help me.”

Ghoa looks at me with glassy eyes but does not move from her place beside the king.

My breath comes quicker. The monster slithers higher. The more I thrash and squirm to keep it caged, the louder the mob in the courtyard shouts. More and more voices join in, and people start pointing. Though, not at me.

Above me.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Lacquered tiles plummet from the rooftop and shatter around me like golden rain. Maybe the Lady of the Sky heard my prayer after all. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked for deliverance, but perhaps being crushed will be a mercy. Certainly better than harming an entire city of innocent souls.

It isn’t until I hear the grunts and whoops that I realize people are dropping from the rooftop alongside the tiles. Three figures in gray tunics somersault through the air and land beside the zurig, drawing long, curved sabers. I try to scream, but my throat is too raw and dry. They must be Zemyan warriors. And what a perfect time to attack—during Qusbegi, when the entire city is distracted and unprepared.

Except these three don’t have the towering height or long, lean build of Zemyans. They are compact and powerful, and their hair is black and brown rather than the yellow of sand or the silver white of waves. Though, according to Ghoa’s report, this could be due to sorcery. They could be hiding their true forms with their devil magic.

With a rumble of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning, the Kalima warriors charge up the steps and unleash a storm of defense against the intruders. They pelt the palace with wind and rain and snow, with heat and cold and fog—but the gray figures are quick. One of them