Page 138 of A ?Sky Beyond the Storm

She looks between us, and her pale eyebrows arch up, then furrow as she takes in the devastation in my eyes, the cold detachment in his.

Musa appears at my elbow. Though he must know I disappeared in the night, he says nothing. His wights shift around him, an antsy cloud.

“I told them to leave,” he says, noticing me watching them. “They fear the jinn. But they refused.” He nods to the center of the camp. “Darin is looking for you,aapan. He and Spiro are near Mamie Rila’s wagon.”

I give the Scholar a grateful nod and hurry away to find my brother and the smith, the former of whom holds a sack and the latter a scim.

“A gift for you, Laia.” Darin holds up the bag. “To go with that scythe of yours. Can’t have my little sister and the savior of us all running around in mismatched armor.”

“As if there wasn’t enough pressure,” I say, only half-joking.

The armor is light and flexible, but there’s another feeling to it too, one that I cannot name.

“It’s shadow-forged,” Spiro says. “I learned it from the Augurs. It will help you blend into your surroundings, make you harder to spot. And it will protect you from jinn fire.”

He buckles a belt around my waist, a short scim and dagger attached.Darin hooks my bow to my back, over my scythe, and they both smile as they take me in, like two proud big brothers.

A Tribal horn sounds a warning. The enemy is near. I take a deep, bracing breath as a group of Martials in formation jogs past, toward the edge of the escarpment. A cart filled with giant blocks of salt rumbles by. Elias’s voice echoes across the camp, cool and calm, ordering troops into position.

Everyone around me moves, but I am rooted to the dead earth. What if I fail? This is not a fair fight. The Commandant has more than thirty thousand men. We have less than a third of that. She has wraiths and jinn and a horde of Masks. We have a few dozen Masks and efrits that can be weakened with song or steel or fire.

Keris has the Nightbringer.

We have me.

Darin’s hand closes on my shoulder. He knows the racket in my head—of course he does.

“Listen to me.” He gazes at me with our mother’s eyes, the eyes of someone who believes in you so deeply that you have no choice but to believe in yourself. “You are the strongest person here. The strongest in the camp. Stronger than me, Spiro, the Blood Shrike, the Soul Catcher, Afya. You are the daughter of the Lioness. The granddaughter of Nan and Pop. You are Lis’s sister and mine.”

His eyes fill, but he does not stop. “Tell me what you’ve done. Tell me.”

“I—I’ve survived the Commandant,” I say. “And Blackcliff. Our family’s deaths. I’ve survived the Nightbringer. I’ve defied him. I saved you. I’ve fought. I’ve fought for our people.”

“And you will keep fighting.” Darin grabs both shoulders now. “And youwill win. There is not a single person alive who I trust more than you to do what must be done today, Laia. Not a single one.”

From the Shrike or Elias, these words would be encouraging. From my big brother, they are life-giving. Something about him, of all people, believing in me makes me grip my scim and set my jaw and stand taller. I will win today.

“I can come with you,” he says. “I want to come with you. Why should you fight him alone when youaren’talone?”

But I shake my head, thinking of the snap of my father’s neck, of Lis’s neck. Of the way the Commandant used family to manipulate my mother.

“The Nightbringer has always used my love against me, Darin,” I say. “I do not want him to do it again. I cannot be worried about you. Stick to the plan.”

“Laia—” He appears uncertain, then grabs me in a hug. “I love you. Fight. Win. I’ll see you when it’s all over.”

“Laia!” Elias calls out as Darin disappears into the camp. Afya and Gibran are beside him, and a platoon of Tribespeople and Scholars armed with longbows waits nearby. “It’s time. We’re the last.”

“Rehmat?” I say quietly, jogging toward Elias. But the creature does not appear.

We wind through the trees, the last of a thousand soldiers Elias has already dispatched. The path we follow takes us east, angling upward before ending at a sheer cliff that drops sixty feet to the river. To our left and right, hundreds of Tribespeople and Scholars wait, bows at the ready.

Skies know how the Nightbringer cleared the way for Keris’s army. Perhaps he manipulated the forest, like Elias. Perhaps he had his jinn clear a path. Whatever the case, the enemy Martials approach a narrow strip ofshallows along the river, the only place they can cross without boats.

And just close enough to the cliffs to leave them exposed to our arrows.

“Do not shoot,” Afya breathes from my left. “Only the longbows have the range.”

Though my aim has improved, I heed her advice. In any case, I am here to watch for the Nightbringer. To spy on him when hopefully, he cannot do the same.

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