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Back The Endless Skies Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. Map
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  55. Also by Shannon Price
  56. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  57. Newsletter Sign-up

Thankfully, the skies see fit to interrupt my nonsense. Bel calls me over to a pair of sparrows just a few feet apart from each other. Using a shovel, we place the birds and dirt beneath them into a tightly woven sack. Bel offers to fly it up to Carrick, and I go back to the Warriors’ Hall. After washing up in my room and changing into a fresh uniform, I head to Vera’s room as promised. We get an early lunch and talk for an hour or so before I make up an excuse to go to my room.

“I’m exhausted for some reason,” I tell her. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“Sleep tight,” she says before turning for her own room on the other side of the Hall. First- through third-year trainees share rooms, partly to strengthen connections and partly so everyone fits in the Hall, but as a fourth-year trainee, I have my own space.

All the rooms in the Hall are the same. Next to a simple bed, I have one square window, a washbasin, and a trunk to store my things. Over time, I added a rug to keep my feet off the cold stone and a few other trinkets: books from my mother, a collection of candles for light, and a speckled ceramic cup I bought one year at High Summer. But none of that is as important as what I keep hanging on the wall, ready at all times: my armor.

Leonodai believe that every warrior should have one piece of armor that is crafted specifically for them. For me, that is the vambrace for my right forearm—my throwing arm when I use my knives. My breastplate, helmet, knee guards, and everything else were crafted for anyone. But the vambrace is for me.

I pick it up now, feeling its familiar weight and letting the metal warm to my hands just a little bit. I’ve dreamed of wearing it into battle so many times. And I will, still.

But first, I have to go find the deserter.

14

SHIRENE

The sight of so many small bodies in the sizable beds of the palace sickroom is almost more than I can bear. This place wasn’t meant for them.

Afternoon air swirls over the sound crying and coughing, bringing a chill to my skin. Beside each bed, parents curl protectively over their children. Here and there, I see the cobalt uniform of a warrior, their head hanging low.