A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,101

kills the Kehannis,” I tell Rehmat, “then it isn’t worth it.”

“The weapon alone will not defeat him.”

“Laia. Laia!” Afya pokes my side. The entire group stares at me. Elias, arms crossed and head tilted, meets my gaze, bemused. I flush under his regard.

I realize we’re reviewing the plan of attack. “I’m to poison the food stores. Without being seen.”

Everyone turns back to Elias, perhaps waiting for encouragement. But despite my warning to him that he is too cold, he only nods. “Midnight, then,” he says, and cuts through the crowd toward me.

“A word?” When we stand apart, he looks down, brow furrowed. “The jinn may be among the soldiers,” he says. “And when I first suggested the mission, you seemed reluctant to use your magic. Will you be able to hold your invisibility?”

I have been reluctant. Ever since I found out who Rehmat really is, my magic has felt unknowable. Like it belongs to someone else.

“I’ll be fine.”

“No detours.”

“You sound almost worried about me, Elias.”

“Soul Catcher,” he corrects me, sounding so much like a Blackcliff Centurion that I want to kick him. “Your skills are important for the success of other raids, Laia. Get in, get the job done, and get out without getting distracted.”

Afya strolls to me as he walks away. “What a charmer,” she says, and at my glower, she shoves me. “I told you not to fall in love with a ghost-talker,” she says. “But did you listen? Forget about him for a moment. Your armor is no good.” She glances critically at the hodgepodge bits of protection I’ve collected over the past few months and steers me toward the horses. “Let’s fix it before we have to leave.”

Two hours later, I follow Shan through the desert with ten other fighters from Tribe Saif. All my concentration is fixed on cloaking us with my magic—not easy when there are so many and we are spread out. Finally, Elias calls a halt in a shallow depression within spitting distance of the sentry line. I sigh in relief when he signals for me to drop the invisibility. His gaze fixed on the sentries, he windwalks away.

“I cannot get used to that,” Shan says to me. “No matter how many times Mamie tells me he is gone, I still see my brother.”

I know so little about Shan. But I remember Elias speaking of him when we traveled to Kauf Prison. They spent the early years of their lives together. Perhaps Elias must be reminded of that.

“You should tell him,” I say. “He needs to hear it.”

Shan glances at me in surprise, but before he can speak, a hoot drifts through the night. The sentries—patrolling only seconds ago, are nowhere to be seen. The Tribesman rises.

“That was quick,” he mutters. “Skies speed your way, Laia of Serra.”

I close my eyes and reach for my invisibility. It comes reluctantly, but once it is on, penetrating the camp is simple enough. The fires are low, for which I am thankful. The shadows will aid us this night.

A large tent looms in the very center of the camp and a black flag flies atop it, a K at its center. My scar itches. Would that I could choke Keris Veturia with her own banner.

Poisoning her army will have to do. I weave past slumbering men and guards sweeping dirt out of a tent, past a soldier cursing the loss of a bet and a few others playing dice and cards. I spy the food stores in the southeast corner of the camp. A livestock pen sits in the way, lightly patrolled.

As I move around it, I hear whispers. Cries. Red eyes flash—ghuls? Why would ghuls be lurking among the livestock?

I draw closer. The shadows in the pen resolve into faces and bodies. People. Almost all are Scholars, chained at the wrists and packed tightly, lash marks suppurating on their visible skin.

No detours, Elias said, but he did not know of the slaves. I cannot let them remain here.

There are only two soldiers guarding the pen’s gate, likely because the rest of the army is within shouting distance. The whips at their belts turn my vision red. I ready my bow. Mother could nock two arrows so quickly that they hit their targets at almost the same time. But I am not so skilled. I will have to be quick.

I nock, aim, and fire. Nock, aim, fire. The first Martial goes down quietly, clutching his throat. But my second shot flies into the darkness. As