about to tell her I’ve been sneaking out and toying with the darkness. Or how I dream, day and night, of returning to the Kalima. How I despise the whitewashed walls she fought so hard to secure as my refuge.
Ghoa forces a cough and calls across the room to Serik. “How is the most irreverent monk at Ikh Zuree?” She chuckles, but he doesn’t crack a smile, despite having laughed when I made the same joke less than an hour ago.
“Still irreverent.”
“Have mercy, Serik. I was teasing.”
“As was I.” He bares his teeth in the world’s most spiteful sneer.
Technically, they’re cousins, but they were raised as brother and sister—and they certainly fight like it. Ghoa’s family took Serik in when he was five and Ghoa was nine, shortly after his father was sentenced to Gazar, the notorious prison mine beneath Sagaan, for peddling outlawed Zemyan weaponry. His mother was so consumed by grief and humiliation, she stopped eating. And sleeping. And caring for her son.
Ghoa and Serik got on well enough, even after he turned eleven and was allowed to enlist. But as the years passed and he didn’t develop a Kalima power, they became like oil and water. By thirteen, Ghoa’s parents recalled him from the war front. Everyone knows war is more dangerous for the magic-barren. To ensure his safety, Ghoa’s father, the Imperial Treasurer, secured Serik this esteemed position at Ikh Zuree—an honor reserved for noblemen’s sons. But if Serik is telling the story, the honor might as well have been a death sentence. And in his eyes, Ghoa is just as guilty, since she didn’t oppose her parents’ decision.
“Please don’t be like this, Serik.” Ghoa’s voice sounds as frayed and ragged as my penance robes.
Serik doesn’t notice. Or, more likely, he doesn’t care. “Don’t be like what? Unless you’ve decided to release me from my vows to the New Order so I can reenlist, we have nothing to discuss.”
Ghoa pinches the bridge of her nose. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You can! You’re captain of the Kalima. You can do anything under the skies, yet you refuse to do the one thing I truly want.”
“Think of your mother, wasting away in her sickbed. Losing you would destroy her, and my father would never forgive me for killing his only sister.”
“Why are you all so certain I would die?” Serik demands. “I’m a good warrior. And my Kalima power could still present. Sometimes it’s delayed.”
Ghoa gives him a withering look. “No one develops a power at nineteen.”
“What about Miigrath? He was twenty-one and became the strongest Sleet Slinger in Ashkar’s history.”
“Miigrath was a king! He united the thirteen clans, formed the Kalima, and drove the Zemyans back to the coast. You will never accomplish feats so grand. Which means your power wouldn’t be worth having, even if it did present.”
“You don’t know that.” Serik looks to me, and I want to encourage him, truly I do, but I avert my eyes and fiddle with my waist tie. The latest any member of the Kalima received their gift was fourteen. And Ghoa’s right—these powers are largely useless. Only able to summon delicate snow flurries or light rain showers.
“I’m not afraid to fight,” Serik forges on. “You happily encourage every eleven-year-old in the empire to enlist. But not me. When I’m perfectly capable.”
“We all have different paths. It’s an honor to be an acolyte of the New Order—”
Serik tosses his hands into the air. “Yes, it’s such an honor to slowly decay like the ancient prayer scrolls in this skies-forsaken prison.”
Ghoa lets out a loud breath and turns to me. “What of you, Enebish? How is the lauded eagle trainer? The Sky King raves about your birds. He claims they’re the finest in all of Ashkar.”
That makes me straighten up a bit. “Does he truly?”
Ghoa nods. “You are making quite a name for yourself. I’m so glad you’ve found your stride again, here at Ikh Zuree. It has proven the perfect sanctuary.”
“Making a name for herself?” Serik shoves out of his chair with such force, it topples over and skids across the tiles. “Blazing skies, Ghoa, don’t you have any tact?”
Even though he’s defending me, my heart still sinks into my gut. Because he’s right. I have already made a name for myself. One that comes with no accolades. One the people of Ashkar will never forget.
Enebish the Destroyer.
“I can say that, cousin, because Enebish has embraced her new life. She has moved on and her future is bright.