A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,20

mind.” She wags her head and I’m reminded, uneasily, of her mother, Mirra of Serra, who I knew only as Cook.

Laia collects herself as I maneuver through the busy harbor. Musa went on and on about it, and to my surprise, I find he didn’t exaggerate its beauty. We pass an Ankanese dhow, its blue sails adorned with a huge eye. In its wake, a dozen vessels drift by, glowing with paper lanterns and poled by Mariners peddling ice plums and siltfish, wriggling shrimp and warty blue pumpkins.

“Shrike,” Laia whispers. “Mask!”

I spot him immediately—he’s on the deck of a ship so massive it casts half the floating market in shadow. Beneath the cloudy sky, the mast flag is clearly illuminated. It is black, with a white K emblazoned upon it. Keris’s flag.

Only she’s altered it from the last time I saw it. A spiky crown rests atop the K now. The sight of it makes me want to snap my oar in half.

“That’s the Samatius,” I say. “One of the ships I left in command of Quin Veturius in Navium.” Skies only know where the old man is now.

At that moment, I spot another Mask rowing through market traffic. My heart trips. This one has the good sense to dull the silver on his face, and wears a floppy fisherman’s hat.

“Harper’s here,” I say, and after a moment, Laia spots him.

“He’s alone. Do you think Darin and Musa got out?”

“I bleeding hope so,” I say. We don’t have enough smiths in Delphinium. As Darin is skilled enough to make unbreakable Serric steel blades, we need him. I can’t take my nephew’s throne back if I don’t have any scims.

We make our way toward Harper, stopping frequently to buy goods so as not to call attention to ourselves. The market is beautiful—one of the wonders of the world.

But it is Antium I long for. I miss the high pillars of the Hall of Records, and the domes and arches of the Illustrian district. I miss the orderly bustle of the markets and the soaring white peaks of the Nevennes Range, visible from anywhere in the city.

I miss my people. And I fear what they must be suffering under Grímarr’s rule.

“Worrying won’t help.” Laia gauges the tenor of my thoughts. “But talking about it might.”

“Without the Mariners’ help,” I say, “things are only going to get worse for us. Right now we have support because the Paters of Delphinium know what happened in Antium. But in the southern part of the Empire, the Commandant’s betrayal is a rumor. One she’s crushed ruthlessly.”

“She has the support of all the southern families,” Laia says. “And she has the army. But that doesn’t mean she’s won. What is it you always tell me when I’m too tired to pull a bowstring? Defeat in your mind—”

“Is defeat on the battlefield.” I smile at her. When I began teaching her archery, I’d expected her to give up after she realized how difficult it was.

I was wrong. When I was short with Laia, she’d work harder. Some nights I’d see her out on the archery pitch near the Black Guard barracks, practicing. She’s no Mask, but she can kill a man at thirty paces.

“You’re right, of course,” I say. “Keris might want us dead, but I’m not in a hurry to get to the Waiting Place—are you?”

Laia’s body tenses. Too late, I realize what a callous remark it is.

“I’m uh—sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Laia sighs. “Men are a terrible waste of air.”

“Utter garbage,” I agree.

“Useless rubbish,” she adds, grinning.

I chuckle before unwittingly glancing at Harper, camouflaged amid a cluster of longboats. Laia follows my gaze.

“He’s one of the few who isn’t, Blood Shrike.”

“We’re almost there.” Harper is not a subject I have any interest in discussing, now or ever. But Laia shakes her head.

“Poor Avitas,” she says. “He does not have a chance, does he? Skies, his eyes will fall out of his head when he sees you in those Mariner leathers.”

My face gets hot and I feel stung. I didn’t expect unkindness from her.

“No need to be nasty,” I say. “I’m aware that I’m not . . .” I gesture vaguely at her, curved in all the right places.

Laia only raises her eyebrows. “I mean it, Shrike,” she says. “You are very beautiful. It’s no wonder he cannot keep his eyes off you.”

A strange, warm feeling fills me, like after I’ve won a battle, or when I’m a half dozen cups into a keg.

“You—” You really think that?