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did tell me the mounds are gateways. And I haven’t seen one in years. However, I withheld what happened afterward—to ensure I had leverage to force you to take me to Ashkar. But after everything you told me about the danger Kartok poses to the entire continent, I’m worried we don’t have time to waste.”

“Why?”

“Kartok continued thumbing through that book, insisting Zemya would provide a way to accomplish his task without the stone mounds. Then he seemed to find something promising and demanded to know how many different Kalima powers there are, and how they are distributed throughout the battalion. When I said none of my warriors were a weak link, he said they are the link and demanded to know where the Kalima would go.”

Ivandar stares at me without blinking. “What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying, Kartok knows how to access the land of the gods through the Kalima. I think he’s looking for them. Which means the Lady and Father, and all of us, are in real danger.”

“Why would you suddenly care? You don’t believe in any of this.”

“I don’t … know what I believe anymore,” I say, treading carefully. Admitting just enough to lure him but not enough to entangle myself in lies. “I just know Kartok is determined to strip me of my power, and if there’s even a miniscule chance he’ll succeed, I have to stop it. But I don’t know enough about the gods to warn them or protect them. And your mother is the only person who has a prayer of reasoning with Kartok, but we’ll need proof of his corruption, proof that the entire continent is in danger, to convince her to turn against him.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Come with me into Ashkar. Help me find the Kalima. And let’s save your fool gods.”

“You’re serious?” he demands.

“No, I’m stirring up all of this trouble for fun. Yes, I’m serious! We each have something the other needs. You’ve been begging for answers and aid all this time. Well, now I’m offering it.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” he says, searching my gaze.

“I don’t know if you have a choice.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ENEBISH

“FOR THE LOVE OF THE LADY AND FATHER! DON’T JUST STAND there,” Temujin groans. He’s dangling from the branches of a tree, as if every bone in his body has crumbled. “Either cut me down and do what you will with me, or kill me here and put me out of my misery. Despite my impressive fortitude and high tolerance for pain, being partially impaled on a broken limb is rather uncomfortable.”

“We’d hate for you to be uncomfortable,” Serik says as he hoists himself into the tree. A branch the width of my arm is, indeed, buried in Temujin’s side. The jagged shards stab him like the pronged spears used by ice fishermen in Sagaan.

“Remove the debris first,” Temujin pants through his teeth when Serik reaches him. “It will be horrendous otherwise.”

Serik reaches over, but instead of extracting the shards, he frees Temujin’s saber from its sheath and hacks through the branch nestled in Temujin’s flesh, conveniently obliterating the limbs beneath him too.

Temujin groans as he crashes to the ground.

“Oops.” Serik hops down beside Temujin, who’s writhing in agony. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

We move to grab Temujin—me from one side and Serik from the other—but as our fingers close around his thrashing arms, a shadow streaks from the top of the tree and a deafening screech fills my ears.

This time, I know to jump away from Orbai’s talons before they gouge me. That doesn’t make the attack any less painful, though. Tears spring to my eyes as she banks around a tree and circles back. My mind knows she’s under Kartok’s influence, but my heart still refuses to accept it. The core of my soul is so entwined with hers, I can’t believe there’s a power in this world—or any other—that could sever our bond.

“Give me your cloak,” I shout at Serik. “Quickly!”

He unfastens the clasp and tosses me the heavy bundle. I manage to wrangle it into position and fling it into the air, just as Orbai dives. She lets out another screech but doesn’t have time to veer before the fabric swallows her, entangling her wings. She crashes into the mud and I jump on top of the wriggling cloak.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, imagining her pain and terror, wishing I could stroke her feathers rather than pin her wings.

“You didn’t bother apologizing to me,” Temujin says sardonically.

“That’s because we aren’t sorry.” Serik snaps a vine from a nearby tree and winds it around Temujin’s wrists. “Any pain you feel is deserved. And of your own making.” Then, without a word of warning, he wrenches the shard of wood from Temujin’s side.

Temujin’s cries are so loud and horrific, Ziva and the shepherds come crashing through the forest, all wide-eyed and panting, certain we’d been attacked by animals—or worse.

“We found a little parting gift for the road,” Serik announces, dragging Temujin through the muck and displaying him like a goat in an auction ring.

I watch the shepherds’ reactions closely, looking for the slightest hint of compassion, the smallest flicker of sympathy. They were ready to hand me and Serik over to him before the fire. And I know how persuasive Temujin can be. How he makes you feel so essential and respected—right up until the moment he slits your throat. We must tread carefully. I can’t have the shepherds secretly aiding him because he gave them a few stolen ration sacks back on the grazing lands.

Thankfully, everyone is still so distraught from the fire and water cannons, no one makes a move to defend Temujin. We bind him with proper ropes and start our journey north to Chotgor. Serik leads the wagon train, keeping us on track and the shepherds in check, and also heating the air so it’s slightly warmer as we pass through. I, on the other hand, hang back and keep a close watch on Temujin, knowing

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