I need you to save the others … the other drüskelle. Swear to me you’ll at least try to help them.
Matthias had been shot in the gut. He’d been facing his killer. He’d known who it was. A drüskelle like him. A boy, really. And that boy hadn’t been operating under orders from his commander. If Joran had been sent after Matthias, he would have been rewarded for the killing. Instead he’d been made the prince’s personal guard—a reminder that he’d disobeyed his commander, that he’d killed one of their own. But not a real punishment either. Not for murder.
There has to be a Fjerda worth saving. Promise me.
She had promised, but all Saints, she hadn’t known what that promise would demand.
The door opened and Hanne rushed in. “I got away as soon as I could.”
Nina sat up, trying to brush the hot tears from her cheeks.
Hanne threw her arms around her and pressed her forehead against Nina’s. “I’m so sorry. I’ll kill him if he hurt you. I don’t know why the prince—”
“No,” said Nina. “Joran didn’t … He didn’t make advances.”
“Then what happened?”
Nina didn’t know how to say it, how to unravel all of it. “He wronged me. Badly. I … I wanted to kill him. I still want to kill him. I told him so.”
“You threatened the prince’s bodyguard?”
Nina covered her face with her hands. All her talk about maintaining her cover, about how careful they had to be. “I did. He may go directly to your father. He knows I’m not who I’ve claimed to be.” Then a fresh bolt of fear shot through her. “Why are you back so soon? Did something happen with the prince?”
“No. The ball ended early. The drüskelle left. The other soldiers escorted out the prince and the rest of the royal family.”
“The war,” said Nina. “It’s starting.”
Hanne nodded. “I think so.”
Nina pushed up from the bed and paced the room. She couldn’t order her thoughts. She had put herself and Hanne in danger, but she also had a narrow opportunity to act. War had come, and that meant the drüskelle would be deployed against Ravka’s Grisha forces. She might never have a chance at vengeance again.
“Hanne, I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Hanne’s eyes were steady. “Where?”
“I…” If she did what she intended, if she murdered Joran, there would be nowhere to hide. It would mean a death sentence. And if she somehow managed to escape? She would never see Hanne again.
Hanne rose slowly. “This is because of Matthias.”
Nina flinched backward. Hanne had never spoken his name.
“I know you loved him,” Hanne continued. “My father cursed the name of Nina Zenik, the Grisha whore who had beguiled his favorite pupil.”
“You knew him?” Nina whispered.
“Only in passing. Only as one of my father’s soldiers.”
“He…” Nina’s whole body shook. She felt as if the room was crowded with ghosts, the person she’d been, the boy she’d loved, the girl she loved now—brave and kind and full of strength. This girl she didn’t deserve. “Joran murdered him. He said it himself. He shot an unarmed man and left him…” Her voice caught. She was choking on the words. “He left him to die. But Matthias found the strength to make his way to me.” For one last kiss. There had been so few. Nina’s hands closed into fists, that overwhelming tide rising inside her. “This may be my only chance.”
“At what?”
“To settle the score,” Nina bit out. “To see justice done.”
“Joran is not yet seventeen,” Hanne said quietly. “He would have been fifteen when Matthias died.”
“Matthias didn’t die. He didn’t pass away peacefully in his bed. He didn’t step in front of a horse cart. He was murdered in cold blood.”
“And did he tell you who killed him?”
Nina turned away. “He refused to.”
Save some mercy for my people. Matthias could have told her it had been a young drüskelle who had murdered him; maybe he’d even known Joran’s name. Instead he’d pleaded for his country and his brothers. He hadn’t wanted her to seek revenge. But what about what she wanted? What about the sorrow she would never be free of?
Hanne laid a hand on Nina’s shoulder, gently turning her. “Joran was a boy raised on hate. The way Matthias was. And Rasmus. And me.”