Текст книги "The horde King of shadow"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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“Klara,” Dannik said. “Nik.”

“I’ll go with you,” I repeated, forcing my gaze away from my brother’s eyes.

“With one condition,” came Sarkin’s voice, oddly detached, as his arm clamped down on my forearm, pulling me forward. I had hardly caught my breath as he said, “Zaridan must approve of you first.”

My feet stumbled underneath me as we broke through the line of riders at the edge of the clearing, who parted for us. And then Sarkin pushed me forward and I skittered to a halt before his dragon.

My breath whooshed from my lungs as her low rumble of a growl met my ears. I slowly craned my neck back to meet her eyes, and time seemed to stop. Her power was awe inspiring…and I knew, with utmost certainty, that she could kill me in an instant. In the gleam of her black scales, I could almost make out my reflection.

“If she doesn’t kill you where you stand, you will live,” came Sarkin’s voice, soft as silk though it nipped at my spine like the edge of a blade. A chorus of low laughs came from his riders.

Zaridan slowly lowered her head until our eyes were nearly level. I could smell her—earthy like the wildlands after a storm. Of underground rivers in deep caverns and of damp, black soil. Her horned head was five times as large as my entire body, and when she exhaled a warm huff, my hair blew back from my face, exposing my scar.

“And if you live, Klara of Rath Serok and Rath Drokka,” Sarkin continued, his voice sharpening, “then I will make you my wife.”

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Chapter 4KLARA

Like a shadow of the night, Zaridan moved. She prowled closer, surprisingly graceful for a creature so large. The weight of her limbs shook the earth, small little quakes that ratcheted up my heartbeat.

When I’d woken this morning, I hadn’t thought it was a possibility that I could die this night. But looking into the golden, glowing orbs of a dragon’s eyes, feeling the heat radiating off of her like a furnace, and inhaling the warm air of her breaths, the space between us shared…now it was a very high possibility. Perhaps even likely.

“Klara, get back,” I heard Dannik order in a voice he very rarely used. The voice of a king, unyielding and cold.

“To interfere would mean your life, Dakkari,” came a female’s voice, one of Sarkin’s riders. Zaridan whipped her head to regard my brother, a warning growl rumbling in her throat. Behind her, a mighty tail, spiked like a sword, thumped into the ground, making me jump.

Panic flooded me.

“Stay away. Trust in me, Dannik,” I called out, my voice shaking, my hand trembling when I raised it. I couldn’t see my brother, but at my voice, Zaridan slowly returned her focus to me, and I felt some of my nerves leave. I took a step forward. Then another. Then another, drawing myself away from the others, from my family.

I continued walking until Zaridan was at my back and the night was swallowing me up. I felt her begin to prowl behind me, sniffing the air, the sounds of her scales rustling together like leaves in the harvest season as they blew violently with the winds.

My heart was a caged little monster, beating against bones. I thought of the archives, of the smell of parchment. I thought of the wildlands, those moments of quiet when I snuck through the gates, when I could be free, when I knew no one was watching, no one was whispering, when I felt like I could breathe.

I let out a sharp exhale just as the dragon at my back did, so hot it felt like fire, and the scar down my face throbbed as I gritted my teeth.

“Why did you do this to me?” I whispered to her.

Another rough exhale.

Zaridan shook the earth as she circled. As she passed at my side, I regarded her. The long muscled sleekness of her body was like a serpent’s, her obsidian scales gleaming even in darkness. An unyielding harness was strapped to her body, secured in the notches of the joints of her wings. It was decorated in silver, eye catching yet well worn.

Behind me, I heard footsteps. He’d followed. When Sarkin’s own heat was at my back, I felt him wrap his hand just underneath my throat, his grip loose. He tilted my chin back.

“Look into her eyes so she might see you, aralye,” he commanded me. He smelled like her, I realized. Of beautiful earth. “So she might know you again.”

Again? I thought, the world swirling.

My eyes connected with Zaridan’s. I saw the black pupils narrow until they became like slits. The gold in her eyes danced like flames, and I felt Sarkin’s thumb caress the spot on my neck where my heartbeat was thumping wildly. Over and over, back and forth.

Then something strange happened. The repetitive brush of his calloused thumb made my heartbeat slow. I began to time my breaths with his touch as Zaridan studied me, as she thumped the ground with her limbs and tail. I sensed the restlessness building in her, a ball of energy that was beginning to grow. I saw her scales begin to move, creating a rustling murmur that sounded almost like a voice.

No, a song.

A beautiful, ethereal song.

Behind me, Sarkin murmured, “Sy’asha.”

There was quiet awe in his tone.

I felt a calmness descend through my body. The smell of her and Sarkin, the light wind of the wildlands stroking through my hair like fingers, winds that my ancestors had once felt drift over their own cheeks, and the sound of that song filling me…this moment felt like a piece of fate slotting into place.

I didn’t understand it. It felt so pure, so destined that I felt palpable fear take root in my chest, gripping me tight. I began to realize that I knew nothing at all.

Zaridan reared her head back, but instead of unleashing the red fog, she roared to the night sky, so loud and thunderous that it shook my bones. For a moment, the night seemed to blacken further, and I wondered if even the stars were trying to hide from such a fearsome creature.

Sarkin released me. He circled me just as Zaridan had done, and when he stood in front of me, all I saw was him and looming golden eyes of the shadowed dragon behind him.

His hand brushed my hair back. I felt him trace the curling edges of the scar on my face.

I couldn’t read the reticent expression on his face. It was both perplexed yet resigned.

“Very well. It will be you, then,” came the softly clipped words. I caught an unmistakable edge of disappointment. “For reasons I cannot see.”

I was already beginning to shake my head, panic rising. There must be some other way, I thought.

“Say your goodbyes to your family and your homeland, wife,” Sarkin ordered, his hand sliding away from my face, already beginning to walk back to his riders. “We leave for Karak at dawn.”

Shock rooted me into place like a tree, sinking me deep until I wondered if our goddess’ earth could just swallow me up entirely.

“And Klara,” Sarkin said behind me, “I advise you not to try to run before then.”

The dragon huffed out a sharp breath, her scales rustling, though they no longer made her song.

“Zaridan has your scent now,” he told me. “There is no where we will not find you.”

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Chapter 5SARKIN

“Think they’ll attempt to retaliate tonight?” Feranos asked me, sliding off Vorna’s back, and his Elthika leapt to the sky, disappearing into the dark clouds above. Zaridan was above us as well, circling, surveying, waiting. She grew impatient so far from home.

“No,” I answered, turning my gaze back to Dothik, the glittering city I’d once dreamed of seeing in person as a child. The Dakkari’s capital was impressive, though I was disappointed. Fantastical stories never mixed well with a true reality.

Dothik looked tired. Tired and unwelcoming. The middle of this continent was dry, hot, and drab. I didn’t know how most Dakkari lived here, how they lived on the inhospitable wilds of this place. The West Lands of their country, with its lakes and hills, held more promise. It reminded me more of home.

“For all the Dothikkar’s faults, I don’t think he’s a fool. Neither is the heir,” I continued. I was sitting on the ledge of a mountain to the west of the city. We were camped on the other side for the night. How Feranos had found me was a mystery. “The Hartans learned to kneel to the Elthika. The Dakkari will learn to do the same.”

“The Elders will not be pleased that instead of a heartstone, we come home with a Dakkari princess,” Feranos warned.

“I always deliver what I promise, don’t I?” I asked, cutting a look over to him.

“But the heartstone⁠—”

“Is but one,” I finished, cutting off his words. “One dying heartstone. That’s not what we need. We must be patient, for a little longer.”

Feranos went quiet. “The princess?”

“Yes,” I said. “Zaridan knows what she’s doing. I might not understand it fully quite yet, but I’m beginning to. I trust in my Elthika more than anything, just like any Sarrothian. Wouldn’t you trust in a mate Vorna chose for you?”

“Yes,” Feranos said, his voice hushed in its quiet reverence. “I would.”

Unlike Feranos, I’d never believed in fate…but after today, I wondered if I’d been wrong. I’d heard my dragon’s song—the sy’asha—and I remembered the dizzying jolt of my future wife’s words.

I have seen your forests of heartstones. Perhaps you’re greedy for just one more.

She thought us greedy? She was wrong.

We were starving for mere scraps.

There was ancient Elthikan magic here—I could feel it. The heartstones had infused their power into this land. It breathed life into this place, cultivated itself in its sons and daughters. It flowed in the rivers, it enriched the soil, it was in the wind that blew from the north and in the waves that crashed against the cliffs in the south.

One thing was clear to me, however. It was diminished here too, just as it was in Karak. The Dakkari didn’t seem to realize what would happen when that power was depleted entirely.

But we did.

“I still think we should take the heartstone, Sarkin,” Feranos said, shaking his head. “We should try, at the very least, to take it to the Arsadia. To see if it will take.”

“No,” I said, the word sharp and firm. I inhaled a long breath, looking back to Dothik. “One thing we know about the Dakkari is they are a spiritual people. To take the heartstone is to offend their goddess. They will never forgive it. It once belonged to great kings here. Let it rest and die here. We won’t need it soon anyway. And forging a path in peace is easier than in blood.”

“The Hartans know that,” Feranos said, his low laugh echoing along the mountains. I heard the great gust of wings overhead from our Elthika.

I inclined my head. “And if Elysom’s council decides that we conquer this territory for Karak…well, by then the Dakkari will already be kneeling.”

“Sometimes I forget how you are,” my friend said suddenly. “It’s been too long since you’ve had a challenge. You get restless without one.”

With a grin, I look back to Dothik. I wondered which glittering turret my future wife was in. I wondered if she would sleep this night. That restless part of me—the one Feranos spoke of—almost wished she would run…if only so I could hunt her down.

“Get some rest,” I ordered my second rider. “The journey home will be long tomorrow with the storms coming in.”

Feranos nodded…yet he didn’t move.

“The scar on her face, Sarkin,” he finally said, quietly. “I’ve never seen a bonding mark like it. You…are certain?”

Not for the first time, I wished I could open my mind to Zaridan. But it was one of the powers that had been lost to us with the depletion of the heartstone magic. I wanted to ask her why. Why this female?

“No,” I said, the truth escaping my lips with a harsh breath. “But my Elthika is. She’s never led me astray.”

I met Feranos’s worried gaze.

“And she won’t now.”

“If Zaridan is wrong, you know what would happen,” Feranos said, his tone careful and hushed, like we would be overheard or that I might take offense. Because he knew. He might’ve been one of my oldest friends…but I was still his Karath. His king.

My jaw ticked.

“I won’t lose the citadel. And I won’t lose the horde. Not with Zaridan at my side, not with you, not with the riders. Elysom wouldn’t dare take it,” I rasped.

Feranos inclined his head. “Your aunt only looks for opportunities to take it from you. I don’t mean anything by it, Sarkin. It’s nothing you haven’t already thought yourself.”

“We’ve weathered worse,” I gave him, letting the words slide because I knew they came from concern. “Haven’t we?”

The corner of his scarred lip turned up. “Yes, Karath, we have.”

“This will be no different,” I said, nodding at Dothik in the distance. “Their dying heartstone stays. I will complete my duty as promised and in full. Once and for all, I’ll silence Elysom.”

“And this time you get a pretty little wife out of it.”

My mood soured, and I scoffed.

Standing, I tapped at my inner wrist, at the black cuff that emitted a sound undetectable to our own ears. But I heard Zari respond, approaching.

“In title only,” I rasped. “You saw her. She’s not strong enough to stand at my side, much less bond with an Elthika of her own. The Sarrothian will never accept her as their true queen.”

Besides, I’d never intended to marry. Ever.

“Then why⁠—”

“Because Zaridan knows we can use her,” I said, looking at Feranos’s perplexed expression. He would need to know eventually. “She knows where there are more heartstones.”

“Truly?” Feranos asked quietly, going still.

I nodded.

“So let Dothik have their dying one. We will have more than we know what to do with soon enough. And then no one on this planet—not the Dakkari or the Hartans or the Selkavars—will ever be able to stand against Karag power again. Our home will be protected and secure for the rest of our days. That is what I want.”

Zaridan circled overhead before landing on a ledge along the mountain cliff.

“I won’t stop until it’s done,” I promised.

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Chapter 6KLARA

It was still dark on the wildlands when I stepped beyond the East Gate. Sarkin—or his horde of dragons—were nowhere in sight, and for a brief, dizzying, silly moment of relief, I thought maybe he’d changed his mind.

Dannik was beside me, stoic and stiff. He’d barely said a word as he walked me to the gate. It felt like a death march.

Last night, he’d come to my chambers. He’d begged me to leave Dothik—he’d even had a group of our father’s darukkars at the ready, to shuffle me across the wildlands and hide me among one of the outer hordes. He would speak with the Karag, he’d promised. He would make Sarkin Dirak’zar change his mind; he would offer another female in my place. He only needed time.

I’d denied my brother. It wasn’t only Sarkin’s threat, that his dragon had my scent now and they would find me anywhere—and likely destroy everything in their wake, including whoever sheltered me.

It was also Zaridan’s song. That pure moment last night and the sense that I was right where I was meant to be.

I had to do this even though I was terrified. Even though I didn’t know if my new life would be atrocious or kind at the hands of my new husband. What life awaited me with the Karag? What would I find across Drukkar’s Sea?

Like Vienne, the white-haired sorceress, my ancestor…I’d had dreams all my life. Visions, I assumed. I’d seen an alien place, one I’d never been able to find replicated in the archives. I’d seen the dragons. A forest of heartstones. And what of the stories my own mother had told me all her life? Her visions? Of things she couldn’t possible know?

It was all connected. I knew it. Finally I would have the answers I’d so desperately sought for over a decade.

Dannik had been right—our last heartstone was dying, fading with every passing day. Soon Arik’s sword would dull and tarnish, a great legacy beginning to rot with it.

What if I could find more heartstones across Drukkar’s Sea? Heartstones had saved us against the red fog. If we had none left, what would save us against the Karag if they came with their dragons? If they unleashed their ethrall on the capital, on the hordes, on the outposts? Nothing would stop them from conquering Dakkar when we didn’t have the power to fight back.

My father and his queen might not’ve wanted me. Alanis might’ve sneered every time I walked passed her in the palace. They might’ve deny my bloodlines…but Dannik was right. I had the blood of great Dakkari and humans alike running in my veins, and I had a duty to my people. This was my home. It was all I’d ever known.

So, when I stepped out onto the dark wildlands and didn’t see Sarkin or his dragons, I was both selfishly relieved and disappointed.

It was short lived, however. As the first rays of the sun began to lighten the sky to a soft purple, I saw a dark mass flying from Bekkar’s Shield—the mountain range to the west.

The group that was gathered beyond the East Gate was larger than I expected. Dannik and myself. My father and the queen. The high priestess of the temple, with her keen eyes that narrowed on me, as if loath to let me go. A few of my father’s council. And guards. Many, many guards.

There were archers along the walls, and I thought their presence was laughable.

“I know you’re angry with me,” I said to Dannik, far enough away from everyone else that I spoke freely. I had a trunk of clothing at my feet, everything I owned, and a leather satchel strapped to my back, a dagger nestled within its confines. “But I don’t want to say goodbye like this.”

Dannik let a breath loose. He stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the grouping of dragons that were drawing closer and closer in the rising sun. I wondered what they called a formation like that. Surely the Karag had a word for it.

“I will find a way to bring you home,” my brother vowed quietly. “Whatever it takes. The Vorakkar are riding in from the wildlands to meet with us. We are forming a plan to⁠—”

My brow furrowed, and I gave him a half smile, reaching forward to grip his shoulder. “Dannik. You saw what they can do. The best plan? It’s to understand them, to learn about them. It is not to attack blindly. To sail across the sea, searching for an uncharted continent that is home to powerful creatures who can wipe us out in a mere moment.”

“I told you that I would protect you. I promised it to your mother,” Dannik confessed softly.

My heart squeezed. “What? When?”

“Before she was sent away. She made me promise, Klara. I have broken that vow already.”

A stab of affection mingled with grief made me stand on the tips of my toes and press a kiss to his cheek. I embraced him.

Into his ear, I whispered, “Trust in me, brother. Zaridan gave me this scar. She gave it to me when I first dreamed about her, when I was just fifteen. And I have dreamed about her ever since.”

Dannik stiffened beneath me, even though I didn’t tell him about everything else I’d dreamed. The other dragon, specifically. The ones I’d seen even before Zaridan.

I pulled back, looking up into his eyes. I grabbed his arms, squeezing tight, though my voice was steady and unyielding. “I am afraid. But I know that this is my purpose. I have been preparing for it nearly my whole life. Let me go with them. Political marriages are made all the time, throughout our history—you know that. Father knows that better than anyone. Let me go as a daughter of Dakkar because maybe it will soften the Karag’s will against us. Maybe we can negotiate as allies and not as enemies. We cannot stand against them, against their dragons’ power. This is the only way. It might even be a mercy.”

Dannik stared down at me, turmoil swirling in his golden eyes.

“I always thought you would make a better ruler than me,” he finally said.

I heard the gust of the dragon wings before I felt the earth’s might tremble when one landed. The other nine remained in the air with their riders, circling overhead. When Dannik stepped to the side, I saw Zaridan, gleaming black and undeniably beautiful in her strength, illuminated by the rising sun.

My eyes caught on Sarkin’s, watched as he ran his palm down her wide neck. He swung his leg over, dismounting expertly with a long jump down in front of her left wing. He landed in a crouch and then rose.

I’ll ride a dragon this morning, came the sudden thought, so unfathomable that it didn’t quite feel real until this very moment.

My chin rose when he approached. Sarkin’s eyes narrowed on my brother, a curl of black hair drifting in front of his left eye when Zaridan gusted her wings. I heard Orak—one of my father’s council members—make a distressed sound. I got the impression Zaridan had done it on purpose.

I watched Sarkin assess the clearing, flickering from me to the group behind us, to the archers on the walls and the locked East Gate. Not that it mattered. He’d been in the market yesterday. He knew another way to get into the city. There were rumors of tunnels beneath Dothik, tunnels that King Arik had once used. Perhaps those?

I wondered how long the Karag had been among us. Since their very first dragons had been spotted? How long had they been gathering information on the Dakkari, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

And why did that strike happen to begin with me?

“Sleep well, aralye?” he asked, his tone gruff and mocking, raising his brow.

“Perfectly,” I lied. For once, my dreams had been strangely quiet.

Those beautiful eyes dropped to the trunk at my feet. “Where do you think you’re going to put that?”

My hand tightened on the strap of my brown leather satchel. “It’s my clothing.”

Sarkin made a sound in the back of his throat. “It stays. Let’s go.”

Dannik stepped forward and Sarkin’s eyes cut to him. The icy chill in them had me reaching out to squeeze my brother’s wrist, a warning in my own gaze when he looked over at me.

Sarkin looked behind me, directly at my father, assessing the distance he’d put between them. I could almost hear his thoughts. He didn’t think highly of the Dothikkar.

“At least you, heir, can look me in the eyes,” Sarkin said, voice rising as he looked at my brother. “Tell your father we will be in contact soon.”

“What is it that you’ll be in contact about?” Dannik growled.

“Our terms” was all Sarkin said, and I could feel my brother’s frustration.

“Fuck your terms. If you hurt her,” Dannik said, his voice so quiet and deadly that even Sarkin stilled to regard him, “I won’t care that you have your dragons at your back. I won’t stop until I find you, Sarkin Dirak’zar.”

The slow spread of Sarkin’s grin made me hold my breath. I felt my brother’s temper snap. Zaridan’s wings gusted again, and I wondered if she could feel the palpable tension in the small clearing.

“Enough,” I said quietly, stepping forward in front of my brother before a brawl began. Sarkin’s eyes fastened on my own when I looked up at him. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Did I catch a hint of surprise? I couldn’t be certain as nerves began to rush, making my limbs shaky at the realization of what I was about to do. I hadn’t cried once since last night, and I refused to now…but all I wanted was to curl into a little ball on the wildlands and sob. I was leaving my home, where I’d been with my mother, where she was buried. Leaving Dannik, the city, the archives, Sora—who I wouldn’t get to say goodbye to, all my research, the comfort of my routine. My quiet morning walks along the Spine. My dusky evenings sneaking out on the wildlands.

Sarkin took my chin in his grip, turning my cheek to peer down at my scar. I swallowed loudly, discomfort swirling. I’d pinned back my hair this morning, leaving my scar on full display. And there was a reckless part of me that wanted everyone to see it. I’d hidden it away behind the curtain of my hair for years because it made others uncomfortable.

Now? I wanted my father to see it, who’d once loved my mother but couldn’t stand to look at me. My stepmother, who’d only ever hated me because I threatened everything she’d built. The Laseta Kalliri, the high priestess, who I assumed had always known about my abilities and had just been waiting for her own perfect moment to take me away to the North Lands. Now I had a strong suspicion Dannik had helped protect me from her grasp.

Sarkin’s thumb brushed the bottom edge of it, the marking that Zaridan had left on me. He recognized it. And I wasn’t a fool—I knew it had something to do with my being taken away.

The mark throbbed under his touch, making me flinch.

His lips pressed, and for a moment, he looked furious. He grabbed my waist, pushing me toward Zaridan, and I nearly stumbled into her. Standing next to her front clawed legs, as thick as tree trunks in the Ancient Grove, I craned my head to look at the dragon, my mouth bone dry in my fear and awe.

She huffed out a hot breath as I looked into her slitted eyes of gold. Zaridan moved, lowering her left wing, and I watched Sarkin ascend it before seating himself in the worn mount with the silver catches.

Looking back at Dannik, I tried to give him a small smile, but I feared it came out as a grimace.

“Strength,” he reminded me, the soft word meant for me drifting over the distance between us.

I inclined my head, my gaze catching on the trunk at his feet. Another part of me I’d leave behind, clothes I’d lived in every day for years. It felt…wrong. Every part of me was being stripped away, bit by bit.

“Ascend,” Sarkin bit out, voice cold and cutting. “We need to leave. Now.”

As if I were outside of my body, I felt myself move. Zaridan’s wing was surprisingly steady, like unyielding earth, beneath my feet, a testament to her strength. The climb was steep, my footing uncertain, the weight of my satchel at my back throwing me off balance.

I heard Sarkin’s sharp, impatient exhale when I nearly stumbled, catching words under his breath that I didn’t understand.

Zaridan breathed deeply, lifting her wing, and I cried out, landing hard on the mount, right into Sarkin’s side, my satchel nearing falling off my shoulder. My face was burning with fear and mortification, knowing my family had witnessed the pitiful scene. I wasn’t used to being so on display, but I could feel dozens of eyes directly on me.

“Sit behind me. Find your balance and hold my waist tight. If you fall, you’re dead. Remember that, princess,” Sarkin rasped. The mounting saddle was as hard as a boulder between my thighs, though I guessed it was marginally better than Zaridan’s scales. For a moment, he said nothing as my arms wound around his body, digging into his unyielding strength.

My breath was coming out in quick gasps and pants…and we weren’t even off the ground. Overhead, I heard the others flying.

“Learn quickly,” Sarkin said. His voice might’ve been quiet, but there was no mistaking the menace in it. “The Sarrothian will never accept you otherwise.”

Those words sounded like a promise.

With that, Sarkin’s hand tightened on two black tethers hooked into place.

“Thryn’ar.”

I felt Zaridan’s body respond to his command. She seemed to hum to life, vibrating in her unmistakable power. Heat rushed. I swore I could feel her heartbeat, and for a moment, my fear was replaced by awe.

I felt her launch from the ground. One moment we were stationary. The next, the air was hurtling around us and we climbed higher and higher at a steep, terrifying angle. My stomach dropped at the unfathomable speed, the pins in my hair whipping out immediately.

The wind was so loud that I couldn’t hear myself scream.

But then we leveled out. Already I was panting and could barely hear over my pounding heartbeat.

“You’ll leave your own scar on me with those claws,” Sarkin grumbled when the world quieted again. I was gripping him so tight I was surprised I hadn’t drawn his blood.

Yet I didn’t loosen my grip. I didn’t care if I hurt him.

When the other nine dragons fell into formation around us, with Zaridan in the lead, though flying lower than the rest, I couldn’t help but look behind me.

There was Dakkar. In all its expansive, wild beauty. In the rising sun, I’d never thought it looked more beautiful. The mountains, the plains, the river that ran toward the coast from Dothik…

Outside the East Gate, my brother was a mere speck on the earth, growing smaller and smaller by the moment.

And I knew then…this was how the Karag saw us. Mere specks. How could they not on the backs of their mighty dragons?

I swayed, going dizzy. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the height. I imaged myself falling. How long until I reached the ground?

“Turn forward,” Sarkin ordered me.

In front of us was Drukkar’s Sea, glittering and seemingly endless.

My future lay beyond it.

The moment we crossed the threshold of the continent’s coastline, flying past the jagged cliffs and rocky shores beyond Bekkar’s Shield…I couldn’t stop the tears that dripped from my cheeks, though the wind whipped them away mercilessly. I imagined them landing in the sea below us.

Though Sarkin had ordered me to turn forward, I disobeyed him.

My heart ached as I watched my homeland become a mere speck behind us too.

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