A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,35

do. Not that I ever could.” He digs around in his pack, pulling out a lumpy package.

“This was supposed to be a surprise for when we made it to Delphinium.” He offers it to me. “Don’t—” He stops me when I go to untie the twine. “Don’t open it,” he says. “Wait until you’re out on the road.”

I consider calling out to the others. But a nearby flash of wings tells me Musa will know about my decision in a moment anyway. Tas and Harper will understand. And while the Shrike’s friendship has been a pleasant surprise these past months, her first loyalty is to the Empire. The Empire would want Laia of Serra in Delphinium, sustaining an alliance between Scholars and Martials.

“Will you be all right?” I look up into my brother’s face, the first real stirrings of anxiety pulling at me.

But he flashes me Mother’s cavalier smile. “We fight less when we’re not in the same city. And I won’t miss you stealing my food or bossing me around like you’re my nan instead of a wittle cwicket—”

I bat him away, laughing as he pinches my cheeks like I’m an infant. “Oh, piss off—”

He pulls me into a hug, and I yelp when he lifts me up. “Be safe, little sister,” he says, and there is no laughter in his voice anymore. “It’s just us now.”

Part II

The Reaping

XIV: The Nightbringer

As a young jinn, I drifted through the trees in awe of the silence and the sound, the light and the redolent earth. In my ignorance, I set the forest alight. But Mauth’s laughter was gentle, his instruction patient. He taught me to dance from shadow to flame, to step lightly so as not to disturb the small creatures with whom I shared the Waiting Place.

After I had learned the swell of the forest and the curves of the river, after I stalked with the wolves and rode the winds with the falcons, Mauth guided me to the border of the Waiting Place. Beyond, fires burned and stone clashed. The children of clay laughed and fought and stole life and brought it forth with joy and blood.

“What are they?” They mesmerized me. I could not look away.

They are your charges, Mauth said. Fragile, yes, but with spirits like the great old oaks, long-lived and strong. When their bodies are finished, those spirits must pass on. Many will do so without you. But others will require your aid.

“Where do they go?”

Onward, he said, to the other side. To a twilight sky and a peaceful shore.

“How do I care for them? How do I help them?”

You love them, he said.

The task seemed like a gift. For after a few minutes of watching them, I was half in love already.

Keris Veturia leaves Marinn with grain, leather, iron, and a treaty that includes the expulsion of every Scholar who walks the Free Lands. Though not their sale, much to her irritation. Still, after days of negotiations, it is a victory. She should feel satisfied.

But for all of her cunning, Keris is still human. She seethes over the Blood Shrike’s escape, over the fact that I forbade her from personally hunting the Shrike down.

The Empress finds me on the garden terraces that overlook Fari Harbor, her expression unreadable as she surveys the delicate arched bridge and mirror-clear pond of the terrace below. A young family crosses the bridge, a father holding one giggling child under each arm, while their mother looks on with a smile.

“The sea efrits will speed your ships to the Tribal lands, Keris,” I say. “Drop anchor outside Sadh. In a fortnight, we will commence the attack.”

“And Marinn?” Keris wants the Free Lands. She wants this city. She wants Irmand’s throne and Nikla’s head on a pike.

“A reprieve.” I follow the family’s progress down a neatly cobbled path to a gazebo. “As we promised.”

Keris inclines her head, gray eyes glittering. “As you will, my lord Nightbringer.”

I smooth the Empress’s edges as she departs, nudging her mind toward strategy and destruction. When she is out of sight, a cold wind whips at me, depositing two flame-formed jinn to the earth at my side.

“Khuri. Talis.” I welcome them with a flare of warmth. “Your journey was swift?”

“The winds were kind, Meherya,” Khuri says.

“What news of our kin?”

“Faaz cracked a river boulder yesterday.” Khuri’s voice betrays her pride in her brethren’s skill, and I smile to hear it. She was barely a century when the Scholars came. She lost her younger siblings in the