“That bombing was a test. It was meant to provoke. If Ravka doesn’t respond, Fjerda will know they can’t. They’ll march and they’ll keep marching until every Ravkan is under Fjerdan rule and every Grisha has been thrown into a cell.”
“Or worse,” added Zoya.
Jesper went to the sideboard and pulled a gun belt from the drawer. He slid twin pearl-handled revolvers into their holsters. “When do we leave?”
But Wylan looked less sure.
“This titanium could stop a war,” Nikolai said.
Wylan ran a finger over one of the schematics. “And you can really arm and aim these things?”
“We can. Mostly. Hopefully.”
“I have some ideas,” said Wylan. “The problem is the nozzles, right?”
“Nozzles?” said Jesper.
“Yes,” said Nikolai. “For launching and directing the rocket.”
“That is a ridiculous word,” said Jesper.
“It’s an accurate word,” objected Wylan. “And slightly ridiculous. May I?”
Nikolai nodded, and Wylan began to sketch something onto the schematic.
Zoya felt a sudden sharp sting to her heart. It was too easy to imagine David in this room, his head bent over those plans, the pleasure he would have felt encountering another person who could speak his language. She knew from the look in Nikolai’s eyes that he was thinking the exact same thing. The knowledge of what they’d lost was like a tether between them, a hook in both of their hearts. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked to be reassigned to Os Kervo. She wanted to work with him for the future they both dreamed of. She wanted to build a peace with him. Even when he married, she could stay at the palace, serve by his side. That was the right choice, the noble one—and the thought of it made her feel like snatching a bottle of whiskey from the sideboard and downing the whole thing. It didn’t help that the idea of losing her hadn’t seemed to bother Nikolai a bit. That’s good, she told herself. That’s the way it should be. And what was there to lose, really? They were compatriots, friends; anything else was illusion, as cheap and false as the performances on East Stave.
“We should get started,” she said briskly. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”
It took another few hours to hash out what they intended, get the supplies they needed, and message the Cormorant. The plan seemed easy enough, and that made Zoya nervous. Wylan and Jesper would ride ahead to gather ground intelligence, then meet them at a bay only a few miles from the base. It was the easiest place for Zoya to board the Cormorant so that she and her Squallers could guide it into position over the base once Kaz and Nikolai were inside. Sturmhond’s Volkvolny would remain docked at Fifth Harbor lest any accusations fly after the robbery. Though if all went according to plan, there would be no outcry, no alarm. They would be in and out of the base without anyone knowing, and the stockpile of titanium would appear as plentiful as before. Only now, most of it would be aluminum.
“I don’t think it’s fair that I don’t get to ride in the airship,” Jesper said as Kaz hustled them out of the dining room.
Nikolai winked. “The king of Ravka will be grateful for what you’re doing, and he has plenty of airships. Os Alta’s gates will always open to you.”
“To all Grisha,” Zoya murmured as she drifted past. If Jesper wanted to hide his gift, that was his business, but the dragon had smelled his power the minute they’d entered the house. Zoya couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep his abilities secret, to live his life full of love and misadventure without forever looking over his shoulder. Maybe someday being Grisha wouldn’t mean being a target.
* * *
Kaz, Zoya, and Nikolai traveled to the bay by oxcart. Jesper had told them there were new motorized trucks that had appeared among some of the wealthier merchant families, but they were useless in the narrow streets of the city. Besides, they wanted to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible.
As soon as they arrived at the cliffs Kaz had proposed for their meetup with the Cormorant, Zoya felt something was off. In the distance, she could see the lights of the naval base twinkling through the fog. But here on the cliff tops, there was an eerie quality to the mist rolling in, and her dragon’s mind stirred as if recognizing danger. She could only hope that ancient intelligence would stay quiet. She couldn’t afford the emotional cost of the dragon’s eye opening, not when they had a mission to complete.
Far below, the beach was little more than a sliver of sand, bright and slender as a crescent moon. Waves broke against thickets of white rocks, jagged, hulking phantoms gathered at the shore as if to stand vigil. They’re guarding this place, Zoya thought. No boat was meant to find safe harbor here. And we’re not meant to be here either. If the beach outside the naval base was anything like this, Zoya could see why no one attempted to approach from the water. The wind howled over the cliffs, a mournful chorus.