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.
Nikolai heard the door open, scented wildflowers somewhere in the cargo hold.
“Are you hiding?” Zoya asked as she shut the door behind her.
“I’m skulking. It’s much more purposeful.” He patted the floor next to him. “Join me?”
He expected her to roll her eyes and tell him to get off his ass. Instead she lay down beside him, her shoulder almost touching his own. All Saints, Nikolai thought. I’m lying next to Zoya Nazyalensky. Somewhere Count Kirigin was crying into his soup. They stared up at the shadowy roof of the hold, at nothing at all.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“Of course not. Someday we’ll see an end to war, and then you and I will take a nap together.”
“Is that your idea of seduction?”
“These days? Yes.”
“I’ll be honest—it’s incredibly compelling.”
“I heard our messenger arrive,” he said. “War?”
“War. Our scouts have reported Fjerdan troops mobilizing again.”
“Do we know where they’re headed?”
“We’re waiting on intelligence.” She inhaled deeply. “I like the way it smells down here. Sawdust. Oil.”
“I never knew you had a fondness for shipyards.”
“Maybe anything smells good after Ketterdam.” He could see her profile in the dim light. “There isn’t enough titanium, is there?”
“No,” he admitted. “Maybe David could have found a way to make it work, but … Nadia and Leoni and the others should be able to get some use out of these materials. Wylan offered up some new sketches on the diagnostics that will help. He has a way with destruction.”
“Perhaps if the Fjerdans see the smaller missiles, the threat of something larger will be enough.”
“Not if Jarl Brum is left unchecked.” Nikolai and his engineers had tried to piece together the details on the weapons and plans Nina had sent to them through the Hringsa, along with the intel from Tamar’s spies, but he still couldn’t be sure what they were up against.
“Nina thinks Prince Rasmus may be a counter to his warmongering,” Zoya said. “I wanted to bring her home, but … maybe she’s safer among the Fjerdans.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I know, I know. I can’t believe I’m saying it either.”
“The whim of a prince isn’t much for insurance.”
“You were a prince once.”
“Yes, but I’m me. Tell me something, Nazyalensky. When Fjerda gets their puppet king, assuming the Fjerdans let either of us live, do you think you can control Vadik Demidov?”
“We do have to lose first, Nikolai.”
He peered at her. “That sounds suspiciously hopeful. What have you done with my doomsaying general?”