“My only allegiance is to the Saints!”
The Darkling ignored him, seeming to drift closer to the Apparat. “This man helped the Darkling depose a Lantsov king. He was instrumental in bringing about the civil war that nearly destroyed this country, and now, he dares to challenge a woman the people worship as a living Saint?”
“Are we sure we want to let him keep talking?” Zoya murmured to Nikolai.
“Not at all.”
“Everyone knows the old king was ill,” the Apparat said, but his eyes were skittering about the room wildly as if searching for some means of escape. “These charges are nothing but lies.”
“The king was a victim of poison, was he not?” the Darkling queried.
“He was indeed,” said Nikolai.
“Poison delivered slowly over time, by someone close to him, someone who had his trust. How many people could that be? I can think of only one.”
Zoya glanced at the old king. His face was red with fury, his jowls trembling like pudding that hadn’t quite set. In truth, the poison had been delivered by a certain Genya Safin in just retribution. But that was hardly common knowledge. And to admit to it now, Nikolai’s father would have to tell all these people just how a young girl had gained access to his body every day.
“Lies!” said the Apparat. “Lies from a heretic!”
But as he spoke, shadows began to bleed from his mouth. The people in the chamber gasped, backing away, trying to put distance between themselves and the priest.
Zoya’s eyes focused on the Darkling’s hands, tucked into his sleeves but moving.
“I believe this is your cue,” whispered Nikolai.
One she was happy to take. Zoya slashed her arm through the air and thunder broke in an enormous boom.
“Enough,” she said. “Seize him.”
* * *
Chaos had erupted in the chamber when the royal guards swarmed the Apparat. The Fjerdans had departed hurriedly, but not before the crown prince had agreed to prolong their truce until a proper treaty could be made.
“Can you not stay?” Zoya had said, her gaze on Nina in her guise as Mila Jandersdat. But all of Nina’s attention was focused on the prince, her face a mask of confusion as she studied him with a bizarre intensity that didn’t seem at all in keeping with the modest ways of Fjerdan women.
“We will return,” Prince Rasmus said. “I vow it.” He had a low, husky voice. “Perhaps for your coronation.”
Nikolai had set guards and Sun Soldiers to pursue the Darkling, who had somehow vanished from the chamber. No matter what he’d done for them at the summit, they still had no idea of his agenda, and Zoya refused to let him hie off somewhere to scheme. Besides, if this truce held, they had to find a way to stop the spread of the blight. She didn’t know if the Darkling actually possessed any knowledge of how to do that or if all his talk of the obisbaya had been manipulation, but she intended to find out.
Already, the nobles of Ravka were asking when she would be crowned and when she would be accepting petitions for government funds, annexations of land, the list went on. But eventually the audience chamber was cleared and only Nikolai and Zoya remained beneath the echoing dome.
With a sweep of her hand, Zoya sent a gust to slam the shutters closed, blocking out the sound of that infernal chanting.
She turned to Nikolai. “Are you quite out of your mind?”
“On occasion. I find it bracing. But I have never been more sane or sober, Zoya.”
“I can’t do this, Nikolai. You’re the diplomat, the charmer. I’m the…”
“Yes?”
She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’m the muscle.”
“The crown was never meant for me. You’re a military commander, you’re Grisha, and thanks to Nina’s work and Juris’ gift, you are a living Saint.”
Zoya slumped down on one of the benches. “No matter what they said in this chamber, you know they’ll never accept me. All those vows and cheers will mean nothing when they don’t get what they want.”
Nikolai knelt before her and reached for her hand.
“Stop doing that,” she snapped. “Stop kneeling.” But she didn’t keep him from taking her hand. His touch was comforting, familiar, something to hold on to.
“I can’t. It’s just what my knees do now. I noticed your tricky little turn of phrase back there. You said that you would serve Ravka, but you didn’t actually say you would accept the crown.”
“Because I’m hoping you’ll come to your senses and see this is impossible.”
Nikolai grinned. “You know how I feel about that word.”
He looked positively giddy.
“How can you do it?” she asked. “How can you just give up the throne you’ve fought so hard for?”
“Because I was never fighting for the throne. Not really. The battle was always for this disaster of a country. The Darkling believed that he was the key to Ravka’s salvation. Maybe I fell into that trap too. But it isn’t too late to get this right.”
She shook her head. “It can’t be done.”
“We’ll charm them one by one if we have to, and you will lead Ravka into an age of peace.”
“I’m not charming.”
“But I am. I have a stockpile of wiles to deploy on Ravka’s behalf.”
“Dinners and parades and small talk. That sounds like hell.”
“I’ll rub your feet every night.”
What was he offering her? He was smiling but she could sense the caution in him too, a wariness she recognized. She’d promised herself she would speak her heart when she had the chance, but now that she was here, in this quiet room, with Nikolai before her, she had never been so frightened in her life.
“There’s a mural in my room,” she said hesitantly, unsure of what she meant to say, afraid of the words that might come. “A stormy sea. A boat. A flag with two stars. Did you ever wonder—”
“What they mean? Only when I thought of your bedchamber. So, roughly every night.”
“Can you be serious for once?”
“Once and only once.”
“Those stars are me and my aunt. Liliyana. She was the bravest woman I ever knew and she … she fought for me, when no one else would, without any weapon. She was a woman with no status or wealth, but she risked her own life to protect me. She thought I was worth saving. She thought … She thought I was worth loving.” When Liliyana’s star was gone, Zoya had believed she would reckon with that stormy sea on her own, forever. That if she was lucky enough to be loved by one person in this life, that should be enough. Or that was what she’d told herself. “I can’t do this alone, Nikolai.”
“I will be by your side.”
“As my adviser?”
“If that’s what you wish.”
She didn’t want to ask. Her pride forbade it. But her damn pride had cost her enough. She looked away. “And if … if I wished for more?”
She felt his fingers on her chin, turning her head. There was an unwanted ache in her throat. Zoya forced herself to meet his gaze. In this light, his hazel eyes looked almost golden.
“Then I would gladly be your prince, your consort, your demon fool.”