Night Spinner (Night Spinner #1) - Addie Thorley Page 0,65

and nudges my hand with her beak. The air is warm and fragrant with the calming scent of lemongrass and globeflowers. From somewhere across the encampment, a gong sounds, followed by the steady hum of feet and voices. I loose a shaky breath. We’re in the realm of the Eternal Blue, not a freezing field strewn with bodies. Inkar’s right about that. But she’s wrong about the rest. I did hurt someone. I killed an entire caravan. I called the night and battered them with starfire. All for my own selfish ambition.

I cover my face with my hands and moan. I need my moonstone. I need these debilitating memories off my conscience. But the rare stone is buried deep in the snow along the bank of the Amereti River, assuming Ghoa didn’t retrieve it. Temujin would never let me reclaim it anyway. Not when he needs me to shield his deserters from the war front.

Scrambling to my knees, I crawl across the tent to a low table holding a basin of water, and splash my face until the bowl is empty and my tunic is soaked.

I can feel Inkar’s worried gaze on my back, as heavy as a fur coat, but I keep my lips sealed tight. There’s nothing to say. Nariin will always be there, and I will always be running from it.

“I know what will help,” Inkar announces with a clap. But before she can tell me, someone starts shouting. A voice I know better than my own.

A warbling cry rips from my throat, like digging out of an avalanche and drawing that first glorious gasp of air. I dart from Inkar’s tent and race toward the clearing. My injuries will be cursing me later, but that pain is nothing compared to the anxiety that’s been sawing through my heart ever since I heard the words Serik and Gazar in the same sentence.

I follow his shouts through the tents and past the bonfire and spot him at last walking with Temujin toward a shack at the edge of the clearing. Or being dragged toward the shack by Temujin, more accurately. I didn’t notice the little building last night. It’s made of dull brown wood with green moss creeping up the walls. Not much to look at, compared to the vibrant tents.

“Release me!” Serik roars, and I suppress a chuckle. Of course he would enter the realm of the Eternal Blue fighting and bellowing.

“I can’t release you just yet.” Temujin speaks slowly. “But I assure you—”

“Save your assurances! They mean nothing to me. Where is Enebish?”

Temujin looks seconds away from sliding his hand a bit higher and wringing Serik’s neck.

“Serik!” I collapse against him in an exhausted hug. “You made it.”

Orbai swoops past, screeching her displeasure at the commotion.

Serik takes one look at us both and resumes bellowing at Temujin. “You promised Enebish was safe!”

“I am safe,” I interject, but Serik yells louder.

“You look awful. They’ve clearly been torturing you.” He gestures to my tear-streaked face and the wound at my collarbone. “And he kidnapped me!”

“No one is torturing me. I just had a nightmare. And Temujin ‘kidnapped’ you from a prison wagon.”

“I think the term you’re looking for is rescued,” Temujin cuts in. “An act that’s usually received with far more gratitude.”

“I didn’t need your help,” Serik says to Temujin. “I had a plan.”

Temujin lets out a long, weary breath and looks to me. “Is he always so …”

“Yes,” I say with a wheezy laugh. “Always. Surprisingly, you come to appreciate it.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Serik bunches back his sleeves. “If you have a problem with me, deserter …”

I roll my eyes and tug Serik’s arm. “Stop picking fights and come with me. I’ll explain everything.”

Before Serik can take a step, Temujin yanks him back. “I’m afraid he must stay here, in the supply shack.”

“What?” Serik and I cry out in unison.

“Only for a short—”

“See!” Serik says. “You are holding me hostage.”

“You promised to free him,” I exclaim.

Inkar, Chanar, and a swarm of curious Shoniin dart into the clearing, buzzing toward the disturbance like flies to sheep.

“Enebish! There you are,” Inkar calls.

“Having trouble with the big, mean monk?” Chanar elbows Temujin in the ribs. “I don’t know why you bothered saving him—rich, pampered coward, hiding away in the monastery while the rest of us bleed and fight.” He scrunches his nose at Serik’s holy robes.

Serik’s entire body goes as rigid as the Ondor Mountains, and the cords in his forearms bulge. “You don’t know anything