“You are a coward,” she said, her voice low in her throat. It was an animal growl. She spoke for Matthias, for Joran, for Hanne, for the Grisha, for everyone whose roots had been forced to drink the poison of this man’s hate. “You are the lowest form of man. Without honor, without integrity. Djel djeren je t?p.” Djel turns his back on you.
“Mila!” Ylva gasped.
Brum’s lips flattened. “You are no longer welcome in our home.”
Nina laughed. “I don’t keep company with vermin. My place is with the wolves.”
Brum could see it now, that she was not what she had pretended to be. But the other generals were approaching, the royal ministers.
“Enke Jandersdat,” Joran said urgently. “Mila, you must listen. The prince has commanded that—”
But Rasmus’ voice cut past the crowd. “Come, Enke Jandersdat.” He stood surrounded by guards and nobles, waving her over with a lazy flick of his hand. His face was golden, glowing, warm and alive. He finally looked like a Grimjer. It was as if he’d stolen Hanne’s life and swallowed it. “I must travel to Os Kervo for these peace talks, and I would have you beside me. We should be together in our grief.” She heard no remorse in his words. If anything, he sounded even more vicious and amused, as if he once again held the crop in his hand. Rasmus at his worst.
Nina trembled. How would she kill him? A dart to his throat? A corpse to tear him in two? Maybe she would strangle him with her bare hands. The prince thought he was dealing with another vulnerable girl, someone kind and good. Someone gentle like Hanne.
She forced herself to curtsy. She would bear his presence, his smugness, until she could get him alone. Then Nina would end his life. She would be hung for it, she knew. Maybe burned alive on a pyre. And she didn’t care. I was a soldier before I was a spy, and I am done with lies. She fell into step beside the crown prince of Fjerda. I will leave this world on a hammer blow.
45
NIKOLAI
NIKOLAI HAD BEEN INSIDE Os Kervo’s city hall many times, had fought not to fall asleep beneath its stained-glass dome through countless meetings. Yet the audience chamber looked different today, the light filtering through the colored glass from above seemed brighter.
The chamber was built like an amphitheater, its terraced walls lined with long, curving benches, and Ravka’s nobles had already assembled. But the Ravkan and Fjerdan delegations were conducted inside through the northern and southern doors at the same time, so that neither country was seen to take precedence.
“Something happened to Nina,” Zoya whispered. “When I left her she was shining, ready to take on the world.”
It took Nikolai a moment to realize whom she meant. He’d nearly forgotten Nina had been tailored. She was in the prince’s retinue, which Nikolai hoped was a good sign. But that hope was dashed by her expression. Her eyes were too wide, her lips slightly parted.
Nikolai had to agree with Zoya. “She looks like she’s in shock.”
The prince himself was mostly what Nikolai had expected based on intelligence reports—young, of about average height for a Fjerdan. His eyes were bright and there was a nervous energy radiating from him, but that was to be expected of an inexperienced leader when the stakes were so high.
Brum looked nothing but calm, despite the defeat and near mutiny he’d suffered. This would be his attempt to resurrect his reputation and take control once more. He was flanked by drüskelle.
“He brought his wolf pups,” Nikolai noted in some surprise.
“He wants to show he still has command,” said Zoya. “He must have chosen them carefully. A calculated risk.”
“He should have checked his math. They only have eyes for my general.”
And who could blame them? Grisha were enlivened by their power. It fed them, extended their lives. Zoya’s face was still flushed. Her hair framed her face in thick black waves, slightly damp from the sea mist. The armor she wore was less like battle gear than a clinging skin of glittering scales. She didn’t look like a Grisha, or a military commander, or even quite human.
What must they make of us? he wondered as he and Zoya took their places gazing up at the seated noblemen and diplomats, surrounded on all sides. The demon and the dragon. At least Nikolai had the grace to put on proper clothes.
The people trailing Brum were like a punch to the gut. His father. His mother. And the man Nikolai instantly knew to be Vadik Demidov.
“He looks just like the old king,” whispered Zoya.
“A tragedy for everyone involved,” Nikolai replied. But it hurt to see Demidov flanked by his parents.