do that?”
“To free you. And I wanted to see the war front for myself. We have to take a side.”
“No, we don’t. You and I can escape this place and—”
“And what? What can the two of us do alone?”
Serik looks down, muttering and massaging his knuckles.
“The conditions at the imperial encampments are appalling,” I say grimly. “Far worse than I could have imagined. Guards make constant rounds, but instead of defending against the Zemyans, they imprison our own troops. And the warriors are in dire condition—thin as bones, dressed in rags, and reeking of rot and infection.”
“Are you saying you believe their desertion is justified?” Serik demands.
I give a tiny shrug. “Enough that I’ve agreed to go on another mission …”
Serik drags his hand through his hair, which has sprouted into dense stubble. “They’re using you, Enebish. And you’re allowing it!”
“What am I supposed to do? Sit back and watch our warriors die? They’re weak and untrained, most of them younger than us. They have no prayer of surviving in battle. But if they come here and receive treatment and proper training—”
“It can’t be as bad as the Shoniin claim.”
“It’s worse. I saw it with my own eyes. And the Zemyans have taken Ivolga—they’re halfway to Sagaan. If we don’t act now, Ashkar will fall.”
“Tell me, how exactly does stealing imperial warriors strengthen our cause on the battlefield?”
I quickly explain Temujin’s plan to increase the Shoniin’s numbers and join forces with Ghoa and the Sky King, but Serik’s frown deepens with every word.
“Ghoa refuses to let us help her buckle her chest plate, and we’re her family. She’ll die before accepting the help of deserters.”
“But she also serves the people. She wouldn’t condemn them for the sake of her pride.”
“Wouldn’t she? Maybe we should ask Orbai how far Ghoa’s willing to go….”
“I have to do something.” My voice cracks, and Serik’s expression softens.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t help the people. Just don’t help Temujin and his Shoniin. Everything about them, and this place, feels off. Unnatural. Don’t you feel it?”
“That feeling is the Lady of the Sky. Her power is abundant here, but you don’t recognize it because you’re a heathen.” I tweak his nose and manage a cheeky smile.
Serik bats me away. “I’m serious, En. If something seems too good to be true, it usually is. I’ve heard snatches of suspicious conversations. Things about cannons and rations and—”
“Is it so hard for you to believe people can be good without an agenda?” I interrupt. “Are you that bitter and jaded?”
“Are you that gullible? Anyone so blatantly ‘noble’ should be suspect. I don’t have a clue what the Shoniin are truly up to, but I know desertion is wrong. This rebellion is wrong.”
“Then how do we help? We’re two people against Zemya and the Imperial Army. And I’m Enebish the Destroyer. The people won’t even look at me, let alone follow me.”
Serik reaches through the bars and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Heat blooms across my scarred cheek, following the warm trail of his fingertips. He lifts my chin, and when our eyes meet, he looks at me with the same intensity and tenderness he did at Qusbegi—a look that makes my skin itchy and my throat impossibly tight.
“Don’t call yourself that,” he murmurs. “And don’t think like that either. We’ll find a way. Once I’m free from this skies-forsaken prison, we can—”
The door creaks open and Inkar’s voice rattles through the dust and dark. “Wrap it up. They’re coming.”
Serik’s hand falls away from my face. “What does she mean wrap it up? You ferried the deserters. You fulfilled your end of the bargain. I should be released.”
“I know, but plans changed slightly when the Zemyans took Ivolga. The Shoniin don’t trust us not to flee if you’re released, but if I prove myself by ferrying a few more groups of recruits, and if you try to be slightly cooperative—”
Serik barks out a laugh but it doesn’t sound like laughter at all. “If this doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about these people, I don’t know what will.”
“I need you to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Serik counters. “Ever since Ghoa betrayed you, you’ve acted like a dog searching for a new master.”
The barb stings like a mouthful of mountain thistle and I flinch. “That isn’t true, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I wasn’t finished. You don’t need a master, Enebish. Be your own hero. You can save yourself—and me—but only