Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology) Addie Thorley (best english books to read for beginners .TXT) 📖

eyes bulge beyond their limit, turning everything white. It’s oddly peaceful. Like an untouched field of snow.

Death. I pluck the word from my gasping, oxygen-starved brain, and for half a second I wonder if this might be preferable. I won’t have to live in a world without the Sky King. I won’t have to bear the disappointment and ridicule. Or be subject to Zemyans.

The pain ratchets higher. The whiteness blares brighter. But as I swallow my last, rasping breath, the agony abruptly vanishes. So does the glaring whiteness. I’m enfolded in a gentle embrace, like the soft, restful swaying of a hammock. Free from even the remembrance of pain. I feel lighter than I have in years. Since my childhood. Before my Kalima power presented.

My lashes part and I peer through the bleariness, trying to make out the details of my final resting place—this next phase of my existence. But I can’t see anything through a cloud of swirling purple smoke. When I try to speak, I choke on a metallic, bitter tang—like corroding steel and wet earth.

My pulse flutters faster, and I wave my hands to clear the haze. I never gave much thought to the afterlife, but I always assumed it would be better than this. I was the highest-ranking commander in the Imperial Army, for skies’ sake!

Until they rejected you.

I wave my arms more frantically, and my fingertips brush something warm. Something smooth and soft—like flesh. I scream as Kartok’s grizzled face materializes through the smoke, less than a hand’s breadth from mine.

“Welcome back, Commander,” he says.

I scream again. “What happened? I don’t understand…. Am I dead?”

A wide, toothy grin crinkles Kartok’s face. “Not quite yet.”

Without a word of explanation, he opens the tunnel and sweeps out of my cell, leaving me on the floor in a lake of my own blood.

My hands drift cautiously to my neck, but there’s no jagged wound. No scar, even. My fingers quickly peruse the rest of me, but there isn’t a single new scratch.

Was it all an illusion?

I clutch my throbbing forehead and shut my eyes.

I no longer know what’s real. I can’t trust my own body.

With a growl, I slam my fists against the ground and gasp when they splash into the pool of blood. Slowly, I bring my dripping hands up to my face and lick a finger, just to make sure.

My throat may be intact, but my blood is undeniably real.

Why would Kartok slit my throat then heal the wound?

And how in the name of the Sky King is it possible?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ENEBISH

“I THOUGHT YOU’D BE MORE EXCITED TO SEE ME,” Temujin calls in a wounded voice.

I stumble back before my mind can command my body to stand tall and strong. To meet Temujin as an equal.

“Perhaps you were hoping to be greeted by a different friend?” He whistles and Orbai dives from the canopy, streaking toward me and the shepherds, who scream and cover their heads. I stand my ground, willing her to see me, begging the Lady and Father to open Orbai’s eyes. But she tucks her wings and bares her talons, ripping out a clump of my hair when I don’t duck fast enough. My fingers touch the throbbing wound as she circles back to Temujin.

“How strange …” he marvels. “It doesn’t appear she missed you at all….”

Chanar and Oyunna chuckle on either side of Temujin, and the laughter spreads through the rest of the battalion—at least a hundred deep. So many faces I once considered friends. And even more I don’t recognize, with pale hair and eyes and skin. The true faces of the Zemyans who masqueraded as Ashkarian warriors.

“Stay back!” Pillars of flame rise from Serik’s palms, and he takes a bold step forward.

“Ah, Serik, my favorite monk,” Temujin drawls. “Such a relief to see you alive. I believe I already had the pleasure of experiencing your new abilities when you set fire to the xanav.” His voice takes on an edge, and that’s when I notice the angry burn marring his neck, and his ragged hair, singed shorter on one side.

“That was just a taste of what I’ll do if you come any closer,” Serik warns.

“I see you and Enebish have the same policy when it comes to your powers,” Chanar yells. “Attack first, ask questions later. Spare no mind for the innocent.”

“None of you are innocent!” I shout back. And neither was Inkar, I remind myself as her visage rises to haunt me: the metal from the obliterated Sky Palace gouging her side, her smiling eyes and warm praise, defending me even as she died.

“That may be true, but there’s no denying these people’s innocence.” Temujin motions to the shepherds, who have retreated several steps. “It’s a pity you dragged them through so much needless suffering. They would have been safe and well had you stayed in Sagaan.”

The shepherds look from me and Serik to Temujin and his Shoniin. As if there’s any question who they should trust.

“He invaded Sagaan with the Zemyans—our enemies!” I bark at them over my shoulder.

“You’re much safer here than in a fallen city or freezing and starving on the grazing lands,” Serik adds.

Temujin clucks his tongue and ventures closer, winding through the panicked sheep. “Enemies is such a polarizing term. Just because people have opposing goals doesn’t make one side noble and the other inherently evil. Time passes, circumstances change. Someday you may find your goals suddenly align, as ours and the Zemyans’ do now—we wish to be freed from the tyranny of the Sky King, and so do they. We wish to coexist peaceably, with freedom to worship as we please, and so do they. I like to think that we’re all allies instead.”

“Just because we all oppose the Sky King does not make you an ally,” I say. “If you’re a friend rather than foe, why did you come for us? Did Yatindra coordinate this with you?”

“I don’t know anyone named Yatindra. I simply received an anonymous note informing us that something we’d