“They’re going to bring the other khergud here,” said Mayu. “To recover.”
“Exile,” Reyem had said. “Maybe it’s for the best. We aren’t fit to be around human beings.”
“Don’t say that,” said Bergin. “We’re alive. We’re free.”
“Are we? How long will the khergud be allowed to live when our very existence threatens the Taban? We’re a secret they can’t risk being exposed.” He looked out the window, toward the shores of the lake. “And we aren’t meant to live in isolation, without purpose. We were built for battle.”
“Ravka won’t let any harm come to you,” Tamar vowed. “I won’t. We have a treaty now.”
“To protect the rights of Grisha,” Mayu objected. “What do you care for the khergud?”
Tamar’s golden eyes flashed. “They’re victims of parem, just as much as the Grisha.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mayu said. “What good will the treaty be when Ravka falls to the Fjerdans?”
“Don’t underestimate King Nikolai,” Tamar replied. “He’ll fight until there’s no fight left in him. And so will I.”
Bergin rose. “If you’re going to the front, I want to go with you.”
Reyem turned. “You … you’re leaving?”
He’d said it with little emotion, but Mayu had sensed the turmoil inside him.
“Ravka may not be my homeland, but I’m Grisha. I’ll fight for the king who gave me freedom.”
“Then we should fight too,” Mayu had said. She hadn’t been sure where the words came from. But Nikolai and Tamar had brought her back to Reyem—and she knew in her bones that without Bergin there wouldn’t have been a brother to come back to. Scarab, Nightmoth, Harbinger … they’d had friends, families, lives, and all of it had been wiped away by their rebirth as khergud. She had a Grisha to thank for the humanity that Reyem had retained.
“We will,” Reyem said firmly. “Your cause is mine, Bergin. We’ll fight for the Grisha. A khergud warrior is worth ten ordinary soldiers, maybe more. The others will fight too. We need a mission.”
“I’m grateful,” said Tamar. “Truly. But Queen Leyti—”
“Queen Leyti told us we could send no Shu troops,” Princess Ehri said. She’d appeared at the doorway, her small frame seeming to hover there, a smile playing about her lips. “But she said nothing of ghosts. According to our government, my sister, and my grandmother, the khergud don’t exist. And phantoms may go where they please.”
She’d floated away, as if she was a spirit herself, and in that moment, Mayu realized that if she survived whatever came next, she would come back to her post as Tavgharad and serve Princess Ehri gladly.
Would she ever have that chance? As she stood on the battlefield, a rifle at her shoulder, she took aim and fired, again and again, unsure of which bullets might have found purchase, terrified by the rush of blood in her ears, the jackrabbit thump of her heart. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scarab moving like a whirlwind through the ranks of Fjerdan troops, as Nightmoth, Harbinger, and Locust—Reyem—attacked from the air, plucking soldiers off their feet and snapping their necks with smooth efficiency.
“I’m glad they’re on our side,” said Tolya, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” said Tamar.
Mayu heard a series of rapid explosions, and suddenly she was looking at a wall of fire crawling toward them across the Fjerdan lines. She looked up—Fjerdan flyers, dropping bomb after bomb.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “They’re killing their own soldiers along with the Ravkans!”
“They don’t care,” said Tamar. “They intend to win at any cost.”
Two Ravkan flyers intercepted the Fjerdans, breaking their formation, but the enemy reassembled, taking the onslaught of the Ravkan guns head-on. A Fjerdan wing caught fire, and the flyer plummeted in a spiral of flame and smoke. It crashed onto the battlefield, plowed through soldiers, struck a tank, and exploded in a yellow ball of fire. Another flyer took its place in formation. Any sacrifice for victory.
“Call for retreat!” King Nikolai shouted. “Have the Squallers and Tidemakers create some kind of cover. We need to get our people out of here.”
“This is our last chance—” said Tolya.
“If they’re willing to bomb their own troops, we’re out of chances. They have too much firepower, and Brum doesn’t care what kind of casualties he racks up as long as Fjerda wins the day. I won’t line my people up for the slaughter. Retreat!”
The call went down the line as mist began to shroud the battlefield. But Mayu could see it wasn’t going to matter. The Fjerdans had been given their orders, and it made no difference if they couldn’t spot targets when they didn’t care about taking aim. They would bomb this battlefield into oblivion.
Mayu saw Reyem speeding toward the ranks of flyers, his wings beating the air. A creature flew beside him—that shadow she’d glimpsed before, but now she saw it had the shape of a beast. They seized one of the Fjerdan flyers and yanked its wings free. Ravkan Squallers hurled the debris away from the battlefield, trying to protect the troops below.
“Come on,” Reyem said as he set down beside her. He grabbed her around the waist. “I need to get you out of here.”
“Go,” said Tamar.
“Bergin—” Reyem attempted, but Bergin shook his head. He would not abandon this fight.
Reyem was already lifting Mayu off her feet.
“No!” shouted Mayu. “We have to get Tamar and the others out too.”
“Forget it,” said Tolya. “This is our fight. For every Grisha.”
“For every Grisha,” said Bergin.
“This is suicide,” said Mayu. “There are too many of them!”
Tamar grasped the king’s shoulder. “Nikolai, let the khergud fly you out. You can still survive this.”
But the king only laughed, a laugh that was nothing like Isaak’s, ferocious and maybe a little unhinged. “None of that, Tamar. If Ravka’s independence dies this day, then I die with it.”
Mayu heard the unmistakable buzz of the Fjerdan engines. They’d locked back into formation and were making another run over the battlefield. “They’re coming back!”
The king climbed onto a tank, the shadow creature hovering above him. He turned to the khergud. “You have no reason to give me aid, but I ask for it anyway. The battle is lost, but if we can take out that line of bombers, we can give everyone on this field a chance to get to safety—Fjerdan and Ravkan alike.”
“Nikolai,” said Tolya. “Please. It’s madness. If the demon dies, you do too.”
The king grinned. “Manners, Tolya. If they want to send me to hell, I’m going to at least say a proper goodbye. His jacket was torn, his clothes stained with blood. He had never looked less like the boy who had courted her. He had never looked more like a king. “This is not your country. I have no right to command you, so I ask you. Fight for me. Fight for every Grisha, for every soldier, for every child who wishes to see his mother again, for every father who wishes to rest his head at night without fear of what may come tomorrow, for every artist, and carpenter, and stoneworker, and farmer who were meant to do more with their lives than carry a gun in their hands. Fight for all of us.”