of them. She is bold. Confident. In a way, she reminds me of Ghoa—the Ghoa I knew before Chinua died. The Ghoa I loved and looked up to. The Ghoa who’s still in there, buried beneath a mountain of pressure.
I want to reach across the realms and shake her. Shout at her. And then weep like a child in her arms.
This isn’t us. I know she didn’t mean to hit Orbai.
But she did.
And now I’m here—for better or worse.
“Fine.” Oyunna pours a hot cup of vorkhi from a teapot on the fire and takes a dainty sip. “Let’s be friends. What shall we discuss? I can tell you anything you’d like to know about life inside the Sky Palace. Or the latest gossip in Sagaan.” Her voice is false and sugary sweet.
“Or Enebish could tell us something about herself.” Inkar casts me an encouraging glance.
“I think you know the highlights,” I mumble.
Inkar gives a terse shake of her head. “Nariin is not a highlight. And it’s hardly all you are. Tell us something real. Something no one else knows.”
Keep quiet, my mind screams. This is how they worm their way beneath your defenses. But I’m so tired of feeling alone and disconnected from the rest of the world. And if I’m stuck here, I might as well do some probing of my own. And, despite our many differences, there’s one thing we all have in common….
“I’ve kept my mother’s prayer doll and Book of Whisperings hidden at Ikh Zuree for the past two years,” I admit. “And I’ve used them.”
“Bold,” Oyunna says with an appreciative nod.
“I also attempted to open a gateway to the Eternal Blue at the start of this journey.”
Inkar and Oyunna exchange a look and then erupt with laughter. “We’ve both done the same thing!” Oyunna says. “When I first entered the king’s service, I scoured every corner of the Sky Palace for old, sacred relics, hoping they might open the gateway.”
“And I prayed to every slimy stone in Gazar, foolishly convinced they’d been part of a sacred mound,” Inkar says.
After that, the conversation flows more freely. Not easily, but enough to make the bonfire tolerable—especially after we’ve all downed a few shots of vorkhi. Eventually rations are passed around, and I raise my eyebrows at the same burlap sacks that are delivered to the shepherds. The Shoniin could be feasting like kings in this realm and no one in Ashkar would be the wiser. But they’re not.
Unsurprisingly, Orbai returns from harassing the hoopoes as soon as I rip open my sack. She lands at my feet and nibbles the edge of my tunic until I relent and give her a strip of jerky.
“She has you well trained,” Chanar calls from across the fire. The Shoniin seated around him snicker, but instead of responding, I whistle at Orbai, who takes flight.
She circles overhead until I click my tongue, then she dives and snatches Chanar’s ration sack clean off his lap. “I am definitely the trainer.”
The Shoniin around him hoot with laughter. A few even cast me approving looks. Inkar stands and applauds.
We sit around the fire for what feels like hours but, strangely, the sun remains overhead, blazing hot as midday. When Inkar shoves to her feet with a yawn, I squint up at the sky. “What time is it?”
“Nearly two in the morning,” Oyunna slurs.
“But the sun—”
“They call it the realm of the Eternal Blue for a reason,” Inkar says. “The sun never sets on the land of the First Gods.”
“You mean it never gets dark?” Anxiety rushes out of me like a breath held too long, but a persistent itch immediately takes its place. A terrible, insatiable longing.
“Never, which is why I volunteered to let you stay with me.” She winks, motions me up, and guides me through the maze of colorful tents. We pass a pale pink tent that reeks of burnt wool, and when a girl ducks through the flap, I catch sight of an assembly line of workers branding the ram insignia onto military rations. Moans come from what I presume to be an infirmary tent, and a deep crimson tent belches the same blue smoke Temujin used during my rescue at the Sky Palace.
At last we reach a sea-green tent, and Inkar lifts the silver flap with a flourish. “Home sweet home.”
Once we’re inside, Inkar bunches up a messy bedroll and throws it out into the dirt. “I’m too tired to deal with my brother. He can sleep somewhere else.” Then