“You are familiar with the Saints?” the Apparat asked with some surprise.
“I’ve had plenty of opportunity for reading. I always liked that wonderfully bloody book, the one with all the illustrations of martyrdoms. Better than stories of witches and merfolk.”
“They are meant for education, not entertainment,” the Apparat said stiffly.
“Besides, there’s a new Saint every week now,” Rasmus continued, clearly enjoying baiting the priest. “Sankta Zoya, Sankta Alina, the Starless One.”
“Heresy,” the Apparat snarled. “The followers of the so-called Starless Saint are nothing but a cult of fools dedicated to destabilizing Ravka.”
“I hear their membership grows daily.”
Demidov laid a comforting hand on the priest’s sleeve. “My first act when we return to Ravka will be to root out the members of this Starless cult and stop their heresy from infecting our country.”
“Then let us all pray to Djel that you’re back in your homeland soon,” Prince Rasmus said.
A frown pinched Demidov’s brow. He knew he’d been insulted, he just wasn’t sure how.
The Apparat turned to Demidov. “Let us walk, Your Majesty,” he said indignantly.
But Demidov knew they couldn’t simply turn their backs on a prince. “With your permission?”
Prince Rasmus waved them off, and Demidov departed with the priest.
“I don’t think they like you,” said Hanne.
“Should I be worried?” Prince Rasmus asked cheerily.
Nina thought so. Demidov had none of Nikolai’s charm, but he’d been both pleasant and diplomatic. And unless he was an extraordinary actor, she didn’t think he was lying about his Lantsov blood. He was certainly Ravkan. She’d seen his reaction when Rasmus had suggested Demidov would rule as a Fjerdan puppet. He didn’t like that at all. He had a nobleman’s pride. But was it Lantsov pride?
Nina turned to Prince Rasmus and bit her lip. “Do you really believe Ravka has a bastard sitting the throne?” she asked in scandalized tones.
“You saw Demidov. He’s said to be the spitting image of the deposed king. If that’s true, I’m not surprised his wife strayed.”
Nina decided to try a different approach. “Perhaps she was wise to. I’ve heard Nikolai Lantsov is quite the leader, beloved by rich and poor alike.”
“Oh yes,” said Hanne, catching on. “He fought in the wars himself. As infantry, not an officer! And word has it he’s also an engineer—”
“He’s a coarse fool without a drop of Lantsov blood in him,” Rasmus snapped.
“Hard to prove, though,” said Nina.
“But we have his whore mother’s letters.”
“Are they locked up in some magical vault?” said Hanne.
“Or maybe in the prison sector,” added Nina. Now, that would be glorious. Nina knew the plan of the prison inside and out.
The prince shook his head. “The prison had a security breach a while back, though no one likes to talk about it. No, your dear papa has taken on the duty of guarding Queen Tatiana’s letters. Of course no one else would be trusted with the task.”
Could they possibly be under the very roof Nina slept beneath? “Then—”
“They’ve been neatly tucked away in the drüskelle sector. I haven’t gotten so much as a peek at them. I hear they’re very racy. Maybe Joran will sneak a look and memorize some juicy passages for us.”
The drüskelle sector. The most secure, unbreachable part of the Ice Court, crowded with witchhunters and wolves trained to hunt Grisha.
Nina sighed and reached for a piece of rye toast. Since she seemed to be headed for utter calamity, she might as well enjoy the food.
* * *
Hanne didn’t even wait for them to be behind closed doors before she whispered furiously, “I know what you’re going to do. You cannot break into the drüskelle sector.”
Nina kept a smile on her face as they headed into the little conservatory in the Brum family quarters. “I can. And you have to help me.”
“Then let me go with you.”
“Absolutely not. I only need you to draw me a plan, talk me through the security protocols. Your father must have brought you there.”
“Women aren’t permitted in that sector of the Ice Court, not inside the buildings.”
“Hanne,” Nina said disbelievingly. “Not even when you were a child?”
“If you’re caught there—”
“I won’t be. This is my chance to help stop a war. If Fjerda doesn’t have those letters, the case for deposing King Nikolai will crumble.”
“You think that’s enough to stop my father?”
“No,” Nina admitted. “But it will mean greater support for Nikolai from Ravka’s nobility. It will be one less thing for him to overcome.”
“Even if I drew you a plan, how would you get inside? The only entrance to the drüskelle sector is through the gate in the ringwall, and they added additional security after the prison break two years ago.”
Hanne had a point. Nina would have to leave the Ice Court entirely and then reenter through the heavily armed gate that led to the kennels and the witchhunters’ training rooms and quarters.
“You’re telling me your father leaves the Ice Court every time he needs to see his troops? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“There’s another way, but it means crossing the moat. It’s only ever used at Hringk?lla initiation and during emergencies. Someone on the inside would have to let you in. Not even I know how it’s done.”
The secret path. Matthias and Kaz had used it during the Ice Court heist, but it left anyone trying to cross the ice moat badly exposed. Nina looked out at the buildings of the White Island, the glowing face of the Elderclock.
“Then I’ll have to go out before I can get back in. On the day of the royal hunt.” That would give Nina two days to make this work. A plan had already started to take shape in her mind. She’d need to signal the Hringsa and request a bottle of scent from the gardener.
Hanne groaned. “I was hoping we could make an excuse to get out of that.”
“I thought you’d leap at the chance to ride again.”
“Sidesaddle? In pursuit of some poor stag no one intends to eat so some podge can put his antlers on a wall?”
“We can talk the prince into giving the meat to the poor. And think of sidesaddle as … a challenge?”
Hanne cut her a withering glance. The parties and balls and constant social interaction of Heartwood had exhausted her, but they just made Nina feel more alive. She liked dressing up with Hanne, she liked the whirl of people, and she finally felt like she was positioned to garner the intelligence she needed.
The prince’s favor would ensure that they were invited to all the best parties, and she’d been able to eavesdrop on Brum’s conversation with Redvin for most of the previous night as they dined on smoked eel and braised leeks and discussed plans for some new weapon. Being Mila Jandersdat had made her nearly invisible—a young widow of no consequence, not very bright or well informed, happy to shadow her mistress—to everyone but the queen. Queen Agathe watched Nina from every corner of every ballroom. She had been pious before, visiting the Chapel of the Wellspring each morning and night to pray to Djel for her son’s health. But since Rasmus had begun to improve, she’d become even more devout. A good first step.