Night Spinner (Night Spinner #1) - Addie Thorley Page 0,92
years older: my legs have grown long roots into the earth, my face is raw and crinkled from tears, and I can’t muster up the strength to leave my bedroll.
Serik did what he thought was right. I can’t begrudge him that. But I can begrudge the ragged, bleeding Serik-shaped hole he left in my heart.
I groan and pull my blankets over my head. I can’t dwell on it. I’ll waver if I do. The weak and selfish part of me will be tempted to put my personal desires above the needs of the people. This is the right choice for me—the right choice for us both.
If it’s so right, why doesn’t it end with us together? I’m tempted to shout at the Lady of the Sky. Instead I turn on my side and command myself to go back to sleep. In my dreams, at least, I can pretend the separation is only temporary. I picture us lying side by side in the grass at Ikh Zuree. The morning gongs are sounding, calling us our separate ways for the day, and we wordlessly part, knowing we’ll reunite later. We always do.
We will reunite later, I assure myself.
Not if you waste time wallowing in your bedroll, Enebish the Warrior scolds.
I have to get up and see this through. I need to ferry more recruits and end the war. I need to remake Ashkar into a place where a former monk and redeemed criminal can be together.
With a bone-weary sigh, I drag myself up from the floor, pull on a gray tunic, and shuffle to Temujin’s tent to prepare for another mission. “Where am I going next?” I ask without preamble as I shuffle through the door.
Temujin is seated at his desk, with Inkar and Chanar perched on either side, as usual. They jump so high at my sudden appearance, a stack of scrolls cascades to the floor.
“Enebish! What are you doing here?” Inkar bustles over to greet me while Chanar and Temujin scramble to pick up the mess. “You should be resting! You need to process and recover from last night’s tragedy. We’ve postponed your missions for a few days at least—”
“No need,” I say brusquely. “I’m fine.”
Inkar nibbles her lip and looks at me with wide, worried eyes. “But—”
“Crying in a tent isn’t going to change the fact that Serik’s gone.” I purposely avoid the word dead. If I don’t want them to lie to me, I probably shouldn’t lie to them. But the longer the Shoniin assume Serik is dead, the safer he will be.
“I know I wasn’t able to be there for you last night like I should have been.” Inkar places a tender hand on my forearm and steers me toward the door. “But now I can stay with you as long as you’d like. You must have so many emotions you want to work through.”
“What I want is to stop the Zemyans and finish this.”
Inkar looks back at the boys, who are shoving the last of the mess into a drawer. I don’t know why they bother; Temujin’s tent still looks like a cyclone tore through it.
“I’m ready,” I insist.
The three of them exchange a look like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have, but I’m afraid if I pause, for even a moment, the doubt and fear will catch up with me. Or I’ll somehow miss my opportunity to defeat Zemya and redeem myself. All of this will be for nothing.
Chanar is the first to speak: “Stop mothering the girl, Inkar. If Enebish says she’s ready, she’s ready.”
Inkar frowns, and I try not to be annoyed. Her hesitance is born of concern, which means I should probably be offended that Chanar is willing to toss me back into the fray so quickly. But I don’t want to be coddled and protected. The time for timidness has long since passed. We must all take risks. Make sacrifices.
Temujin studies me, and for the first time since I met him, I do not squirm or bumble or retreat. I look him dead in the eye, and a slow grin spreads across his lips. “Sometimes action is the best medicine of all.”
I live and breathe for nothing but my missions. I sneak into Ashkar every other night and shepherd dozens of recruits from encampments along the war front. Then I sleep the entire day and night in between. Never stopping, never thinking. Reveling in the blackness of exhaustion—where the pain of missing Serik can’t reach me.