before Nariin, and I haven’t attempted it since. “How bad could you be?” he asks as he tugs me back into the mayhem.
The music is booming and feverish, a wild mix of drums and fiddles and flutes, and it vibrates through my sluggish feet until my toes begin tapping and my hips begin swinging. I am slow and rigid and off beat, and I step on Temujin’s feet five times in two songs, but he never once complains.
“Look at them.” He motions to a group of girls holding hands, skipping in a circle to our right. Behind them, a father tosses his giggling child high in the air. All around us, citizens clap and hoot, bow and leap. As free and invigorated as lambs in spring grass. “This is what our people deserve!” he shouts over the din. “And thanks to you, this is what we will continue to give them.”
I have always deflected such praise. An army is like a clock, made up of a million little gears. No one piece is more important than the next. But I throw my head back and let out a whoop, allowing myself to be proud, to have this moment.
Temujin pulls me closer, and his hands burn like a firebrand against the small of my back. He hums a Verdenese folk song in my ear, and my legs turn to sand, scorching and sifting as we sway to the music. The tangerine sky deepens and the ribbons of darkness curl around us. But instead of goading me, they glide across my collarbone and coil around my wrists like bangles, heightening every sensation. Comfortable, at last, with our new truce.
The four of us sway and twirl among the people—common citizens of Ashkar for one evening—and I about die of shock when Chanar asks me to dance too. He spins me in a dizzying circle, laughing all the while, and I’m so happy, so consumed with a bone-deep sense of belonging, I almost forget to miss Serik.
A landslide of shame, for allowing myself to move on, even in this small way, nearly knocks me off my feet. A second later it’s followed by an aftershock of guilt. I shouldn’t want to see him here. A true friend would want him to be as far away from Sagaan and Ghoa and the Shoniin as possible, but my breath still catches every time I glimpse a shaved head. And once or twice I swear I catch a whiff of parchment and pine ink.
We stay until the crowd thins enough for imperial guards to break through the wall of revelers, ordering everyone to return home or risk being arrested for stealing the Sky King’s food. But who can they pin the blame on when the entire city partook in the spoils?
We make our way back to the Ram’s Head. Temujin and Chanar walk behind me and Inkar, and I lean against her for support. I may be getting stronger, but my bad leg will never be accustomed to dancing.
“Are you glad you came?” she asks.
I let out a contented sigh. “This was exactly what I needed. I feel awake again.”
“I’d wager Temujin would be willing to keep you awake even longer….”
She winks and I smack her. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw you two dancing!”
“It isn’t like that,” I insist, but chills shiver down my neck when I think of how we danced. And how we wrote in his Book of Whisperings. How he shows me the real Temujin hidden beneath the perfect mask.
We reach an intersection, crowded with revelers crossing in every direction, and my musing stops abruptly. Through the blur of faces and coats, I could have sworn I saw …
I shake my head. Stop torturing yourself.
But then the flash comes again. A distinct ripple of gold on black.
I pull away from Inkar and dodge through the crowd, squinting, my heart in my throat.
He shouldn’t be here.
I don’t want him to be here.
But there’s no mistaking the intricate, gleaming goldwork of Serik’s sunburst cloak.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“SERIK?” MY VOICE IS A SCRATCHY WHISPER. I RUB MY tired eyes to make sure I’m not hallucinating, but even with the hood drawn, I’d recognize his swaggering gait and the glittering hem of his cloak anywhere.
He’s alive. And in Sagaan.
A glorious, burning ache pours through my limbs like mulled honey wine. I trip over my feet as I take off after him. “Serik!” I call again, louder. Though now my voice is muffled by blubbering cries.
I need to see his