Nina pushed to her feet. She was staring at Zoya with huge eyes, and Zoya wondered what she saw. Her own sight was keener, her sense of smell sharper. Each breath felt strange, her belly, her lungs. What had she become?
“I … I still don’t … I can’t believe it’s you.”
Zoya couldn’t quite believe it either. And yet, this was what Juris had wanted from her, it was the true gift that had come through his scales when she’d taken his life and he’d taken hers. But she didn’t know how long she could keep this form. It still felt wrong to her, unstable.
She sought some kind of explanation to offer Nina. There was a time when soldiers became beasts, and when Grisha didn’t take amplifiers, they became them.
“You didn’t become a bear or a hawk, Zoya. You’re a dragon. Can you … Is it permanent?”
Zoya felt a shiver pass through her, an echo of Juris’ loneliness. He had been able to take human or dragon form at will. She hoped the same thing would be true for her.
I don’t know.
“Zoya, you have to take me back to Leviathan’s Mouth.”
You will come home to Ravka.
“No, I will not. My mission isn’t complete.”
A deep growl rumbled through Zoya and she snapped her huge jaws at the air. Why must you be so stubborn?
“I could ask the same of you!” Nina said, and she had the temerity to kick Zoya’s foreleg with her tiny foot.
I put my life at risk to get you back, Nina. The Apparat could still be alive. Your cover may be worthless.
“I’m going to take that chance. I have to.”
Zoya huffed a breath and watched dust and pebbles billow through the cave. The cost of the dragon’s form was just as high as she’d suspected it would be. She felt Nina’s hurt, and it only made Zoya want to keep her closer, find a way to shield her from harm. It was unbearable.
Promise you’ll come home to us.
“I can’t.”
Then promise you’ll be careful.
“I can’t do that either.”
Wretched girl.
But she was going to let Nina go. Nina Zenik was a soldier. Zoya had trained her well. And she had the right to choose her own path.
Climb on and hold tight, Zoya instructed.
Nina laughed. “That I can do.”
Zoya craned her neck back to look at Nina. She was beaming, her cheeks rosy. She looked nothing like the grieving girl Zoya had known. Happiness and anticipation shimmered around her as if they were her true shape, as if she wore a halo of gold.
Zoya leapt from the mouth of the cave and let Nina’s joy carry her over the sea.
She shrouded them both in mist as they approached Leviathan, but absolute chaos had erupted aboard the base and there was plenty of cover. She saw rafts and boats arriving and departing in swarms as officers, soldiers, and medical personnel traveled to and from the mainland. The battle had come to a standstill for now; Zoya knew that didn’t mean peace.
Saying goodbye to Nina again wasn’t easy, but Zoya wasn’t going to stand in the way of her decision. If she really believed she could resume her cover as Mila Jandersdat, then she could still be a valuable asset and feed vital information to Ravka. But there was more. Zoya sensed the pull of Nina’s longing toward … someone vibrant, bright as a new sun, warm and coppery. The girl couldn’t stay away from Fjerdans, it seemed. Zoya wondered if she should warn her against falling in love, against the danger it could put her in undercover. But it was foolish to think she could contain Nina Zenik’s heart.
“I have to warn you,” said Nina as they set down near one of the piers. “Tell the king we can’t rely on Prince Rasmus. Hanne still has hope for him, but he’s not who we thought he was. Not at all.”
One less ally. The prince had let his country’s hatred choose his road.
I’ll create a distraction so you can rejoin the soldiers on base without notice.
Nina grinned. “That shouldn’t be much of a challenge.”
Zoya bumped Nina with her snout. It was a gesture more intimate than she ever would have been tempted to make in her human body. Stay as safe as you can.
Nina set a hand on Zoya’s scales. She rested her cheek briefly against Zoya’s head. “Thank you,” she whispered, and then she was vanishing up a ramp and into the bustle of the base.
Zoya wondered if she would ever see Nina Zenik again.
She set out over the waves, then whirled back around, exploding through the mist as she arced over the naval base. She heard screams from below, felt the Fjerdans’ terror like an icy wave, and reveled in it. Fear was a language universally understood. She drew in a breath and released a crackling burst of lightning, then banked to the left and headed back to the mainland, her wings spread wide, feeling the salt spray against her belly, as she coasted low over the water. She could still sense Nina’s powerful heart, the steady beat of her courage.
When you are tied to all things, there is no limit to what you may know.
And apparently to what she would have to feel. All this emotion was exhausting. She was Zoya and she was the knight known as Juris and she was the dragon he had once slain.
She circled the battlefield, noted the Fjerdans in retreat. It was hard to see so many bodies on the ground, feel the grief emanating from soldiers as they tended to their wounded and mourned their dead. But she could find no sign of the Starless Saint or his followers. The Darkling had been the first to kneel, though she had no illusions that he’d suddenly come around to their side. He wasn’t done, and yet she couldn’t guess his intent. His presence on the battlefield had been like a gap in all that life and fear, a deep well of eternity.
Zoya turned toward the village of Pachesyana, where the Ravkan forces had set up their headquarters. The soldiers’ camp came into view and then the royal command tent. She knew she needed to focus to manage a landing in this small space, but she was more tired than she’d realized. She’d done too much, too fast. She could feel her control over the dragon’s shape slipping, and then she wasn’t flying, she was falling.
A gust of air caught her, buffering her descent. When she struck the earth, the impact was gentle, but it still came as a surprise, knocking the breath out of her. Some part of her wanted to just give in to her fatigue and slide into unconsciousness.
She felt arms encircle her and lift her head.
“Zoya?” Nikolai’s voice. The voice of a king. The voice of a brilliant, creative boy, left alone with his books and inventions, forever roaming an empty palace. His hurt and worry washed over her. “Please,” he whispered. “Please.”
The dragon’s mind receded, leaving her mind blessedly empty of any thoughts but her own. Zoya forced herself to open her eyes. Nikolai’s lip was bloodied. There was soot in his hair. But he was alive and for this brief moment, he was holding her. She wanted to curl into him and let herself cry. She wanted to lie beside him and just feel safe for an hour. She had so much to say to him and she didn’t want to wait.
Zoya made herself sit up. “The Fjerdans?”
“Careful,” he said, still helping to support her. “Nadia broke your fall, thank the Saints, but you hit the ground hard.”
“The Fjerdans,” she repeated. “They retreated?”