“Think they won’t notice that?” Kaz asked.
Nikolai glanced up and saw Zoya bring her hand down in a swift arc. “Hold tight!”
A bolt of lightning sizzled through the air beside them, its heat searing the sky.
It struck the shell at the edge of the hole the demon had made, scorching the metal, making it look as if the storm had savaged the metal rooftop.
Rain spattered Nikolai and Kaz in a gust as Zoya let it pour through to the yard below. Adrik swathed the airship in clouds to hide the sight of it from any guards peering up through the damaged shell.
Moments later, they were inside the airship bay, soaked to the bone.
For a moment the demon hung on the wind, feeling the swell of the storm, fearless in the lush black night and still hungry for blood and damage. Nikolai didn’t want to draw it back—and not because he dreaded its presence inside him. Some part of him hated to cage it once more.
But the demon didn’t fight. Maybe the divisions between them were eroding. And maybe that was a problem. He couldn’t deny the remorse he felt as he tugged the darkness back.
You’ll fly again, he promised.
The airship doors banged shut. The crew stared at him. Nikolai had known what unleashing the monster’s power meant, what he was revealing. But for a moment he’d lost himself in the demon’s exultation. Zoya was shaking her head, though Kaz seemed only intrigued now that his initial fear had passed.
What happens now? he wondered, as these Ravkan soldiers faced him. He could see the terror in their faces, their bewilderment. Adrik stood several steps back, arm raised as if ready to summon a storm to fight with. For once he looked shocked instead of morose.
Show them weakness when they need to see it, never when you feel it. Words of advice he’d given to Alina years ago. This seemed like an excellent time to take it. For once in his life, he was going to embrace understatement.
He clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms like a lord of the manor returned from the hunt, in need of a good meal and a warm fire. “That went about as well as could be expected,” he said in the most ordinary, jovial tone he could manage. “Who needs a drink?”
* * *
It didn’t work. Not entirely. Some of the crew sat and drank with him, downing his brandy a little more quickly than they might have otherwise, eager to fall back into the trust he’d built with them before this dark revelation.
When one of them dared to hazard, “What was … what was that thing?” Nikolai simply said, “Another weapon in our arsenal.”
“Looked like a gargoyle.”
Nikolai refilled his glass. “Hush now. It’ll hear you.”
The crewman blanched. “I didn’t mean nothing by it.”
But Nikolai only laughed and the others followed suit, nervous but obliging. These were friends, compatriots who knew him well and who wanted to find a way to accept or at least ignore what they’d seen.
That wasn’t enough for some of them. Nikolai knew exactly how many soldiers and Grisha were aboard, and he knew that more than half the crew hadn’t chosen to drink with a monster. Zoya would speak to the Grisha. She would do her best to answer their questions and soothe their nerves. But there was a very good chance that they would desert. And that they would talk.
Maybe this was the end then. It had been foolhardy to believe he could keep a secret like this forever.
But I could have kept it, he realized as he filled the glasses for another round. He could have let them detach the cable and leave the anchor behind for the Kerch guards to find. Yes, they would have guessed that Ravka was involved. They might have realized the titanium was missing. They might have taken action to exact revenge. None of it good. But his secret would still have been his.
Another weapon in our arsenal. It might be truer than he’d realized. David had known that once technology existed, it was impossible to control. Tanks got bigger. Guns fired more rounds. Bombs did more damage. On the night of the sneak attack against Os Alta, the demon had become a weapon in Nikolai’s hand. Maybe it was no surprise that he’d chosen to use that weapon again. But it was one thing to have sent an enemy pilot home with a tale to frighten the Fjerdans, another to try to command soldiers who’d lost trust in their king. Nikolai could only hope that the soldiers who did try to spread the story of this night wouldn’t be believed and that those who stayed in his service would find a way to have faith in him again.
Jesper and Wylan were waiting for the Cormorant on the cliffs, looking dirty but otherwise unscathed. The Suli were nowhere to be seen, but Nikolai suspected they were nearby, watching.
When Kaz was preparing to descend to the cliffs, Nikolai and Zoya joined him at the wind-buffeted bay doors.
Nikolai handed him a metal box. “For the Wraith,” he said.
Kaz took it, tucking it under one arm. “An infernal gadget to contend with your other infernal gadgets.”
“I have a gift for order and a taste for chaos.”
Kaz raised a brow. “The man with the monster inside.”
“I see the wheels turning in your head, Mister Brekker, wondering what you might do with this information. I would ask, one liar to another, that you keep it to yourself.”
“I find secrets are the most reliable stocks. The longer they’re kept, the more their value rises.”
“We could shove him out of the airship now,” suggested Zoya.
“We could, but we’re not going to.”
“Why is that?”
“Because Mister Brekker has the best insurance of all. He’s proven himself useful.”
“Speaking of secrets,” said Kaz, taking hold of the cable. “I’ve had word from the Kerch colonies. A certain monarch and his wife are no longer in exile.”
“By whose order?” Nikolai said, tension snapping through him.
“Jarl Brum and the Fjerdan government. This is the problem with letting your enemies live.”
“They’re my parents.”
“Your point?” Kaz settled his cane more firmly in his grip and nodded to the cable operator, ready to descend. “A word of advice, from one bastard to another: Sometimes it’s best to let the demon have its day.”
The cable dropped and Kaz Brekker was gone.
* * *
Nikolai had meant to try to rest, but instead he found himself in the darkened cargo hold. He lay down on the cold floor beside one of the stacks of stolen titanium, now secured with cables and tarps. It was quiet here, empty, the only sound the heavy thrum of the airship’s engines. It was almost enough to lull him to sleep.
At some point, he heard a flyer being guided into the neighboring landing bay. He knew it was the messenger they’d been set to rendezvous with over the True Sea. He heard raised voices, running footsteps. The news couldn’t be good. Another city bombed? The Fjerdans already marching?
He wanted to be back at the Kerch base, racing against discovery, listening to the crackle of the storm. Better that than grappling with the actuality of a war he’d failed to prevent. The Cormorant would proceed directly to Lazlayon, where hopefully, Nadia and the rest of the Fabrikators would be able to use their meager supply of stolen titanium to give Ravka an edge in the battles to come. As for the Volkvolny, his beautiful Wolf of the Waves would sit in the Ketterdam harbor for another two days to be inspected by any nosy members of the Merchant Council. Privyet would greet them as Sturmhond, wearing the splendid frock coat that Nikolai had already sent back to the ship. He’d been sorry to let it go. The coat was the open sea, the dream of another life he might have lived. Could you do it? Zoya had asked. Give up the throne? He’d fought so hard for so long, but some wayward voice inside him said, Yes. Like the demon, he hungered for freedom. And yet he knew he could never forsake Ravka the way his father had, ceding his duty to his own desires. His messy, exasperating country might demand everything, might punish those who loved it for their devotion, but he wouldn’t turn his back on his people.