Night Spinner (Night Spinner #1) - Addie Thorley Page 0,33

trained her.” True pride brims in Ghoa’s eyes as she helps me into my gauntlet.

“Thank you,” I choke out when Varren places Orbai on my forearm. Confidence bleeds into me from each of her curved talons; my injured muscles strengthen beneath her familiar weight. For the first time, I allow myself to believe that I may actually be able to do this.

“When do I leave?” I ask. “May I say goodbye to Serik? I want to make sure—”

“No one can know of our arrangement until the mission is complete,” Ghoa says with a furtive glance at the window, as if someone might be eavesdropping. And considering we’re in a compound full of overzealous monks, they very well could be. “Varren will be keeping guard outside your door while you’re gone—to keep up the pretense of your punishment—which is why you cannot speak to Serik.”

“The monks don’t know I’m doing this?” The question comes out more skeptical than intended. Of course I don’t want them tracking my every sneeze, but not telling them about the mission makes it feel wrong, almost.

Ghoa slashes her arm across her body, sweeping my worries away. “Those old fusspots don’t need to have their hands in everything. I am Commander of the Kalima warriors, and this is a confidential matter of state.”

I grunt my agreement, but my gaze still slides to the window. It seems strange to keep something so pressing from the abba. And it feels wrong to leave without knowing if Serik is all right. “Can’t I please see Serik quickly? He promised to come, but I haven’t—”

“The abba is keeping a tight leash on him, but he’s fine,” Ghoa assures me. “I’ve seen him at morning supplication. His arms are bandaged, but he’s already back to being his obnoxious, disagreeable self.”

“Probably because he’s had to endure your company,” I jibe.

While Ghoa chuckles, I take a deep breath and let it crackle through my lungs. Let it fill me with confidence and purpose, but most of all, gratitude. “Thank you.” I drop to a knee and press my forehead to the back of Ghoa’s hand. “For trusting me, for believing in me. I’m the one who brought you low, so I will be the one to raise you back up. That’s the divine purpose of family—to fall and rise as one.”

“It is,” Ghoa agrees. She takes my chin, lifts my face, and tenderly traces my traitor’s mark. “Go. Find Temujin. And raise us up together.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I LEAVE IKH ZUREE THAT AFTERNOON WITH ORBAI ON MY arm and an overstuffed satchel on my back. I scan the compound for Serik as Ghoa spirits me through the gate behind the bathhouses, but most of the monks are sequestered in their temples for midday supplication, and the few who are hurrying down the paths are too old or too young. Too short or too fat. Not Serik.

“Remember, the fewer people you interact with the better,” Ghoa says as she adjusts the fur cloak around my neck. “You must listen and spy. Blend into the shadows. And when you do locate Temujin, stick to the stories we came up with: you slipped a sleeping draft into the monks’ supply of holy vorkhi, broke out of your chamber, and scaled the wall. You’re being hunted, of course, but not outright, as the citizens of Ashkar would be in a frenzy if they knew such a dangerous criminal was on the loose. But most of all, you must make them believe you hate me. That there’s no way, in this life or any other, that you would return to me or the Sky King.”

She rubs my hands vigorously, though that only causes them to grow colder. If it were anyone else, I would bristle and snap at being coddled like an infant, but it feels so good to have Ghoa’s hard-won confidence, I savor every touch.

Finally I will redeem myself.

Finally I will make her proud.

“I’m sorry I can’t make arrangements for you to stay at an inn,” she continues, “but you would be too recognizable in such close quarters. And a Kalima warrior should be able to manage something as simple as shelter.”

“Of course. You needn’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“To reclaim your rightful place in the Kalima.” Ghoa claps me on the shoulder.

My entire body stills—my heart most of all—every time she says that word. The grin that spreads across my face is so wide, it tugs at the scars on my cheek. “My rightful place,”