The shadow thing raised its hand and Zoya clenched her fists, determined to stand her ground. The edges of its form were blurred like thick fog. Its long fingers ended in claws.
It reached for her and Zoya willed herself not to recoil. It brushed its knuckles across the skin of her cheek, and she drew in a sharp breath. Its touch was cold. It was solid. It had form.
Power. The ancient thing inside her recognized this darkness, the very substance of the universe. It was Nikolai and it was not.
“You would still be my king,” she said, as the demon stroked its fingers down her cheek to her throat. “I know who you are.”
Was it the monster touching her or was it her king? Was there a difference anymore? The fire crackled in the stillness of the room, the silence of the palace surrounding them, the heavy blanket of night.
The demon closed its talons over the ribbon in her hair and tugged. It slid loose, fluttering to the floor. Slowly, it withdrew its hand. Did she imagine its regret?
The thing melted back into Nikolai’s body, as if his shadow had come to meet him.
Zoya released an unsteady breath. “I think I may need another drink.” Nikolai offered her his glass and she tossed back the remaining brandy. He was watching her closely. She saw him flex the fingers of his hand, as if it really had been him touching her. “How long have you been able to … do that?”
“Since the Fold.”
“Another,” Zoya said, holding out the glass. He poured. She downed it. “And you really think that it’s worth attempting to find these monks so we can raise the thorn wood?”
“I do.”
“I don’t know,” said Zoya. “This stunt to see Alina. It feels like he’s stalling. Or he has some other plan.”
“I’m sure he does. But we need to find a way to stop the spread of this blight. If the Fjerdans weren’t breathing down our necks, if the wedding weren’t right around the corner, we might try to master this phenomenon without him. We’d let loose David and every scholar we have on this problem. But David’s mind must remain on the work of winning the war. We need the Darkling now, just as I knew we would.”
“Alina gave up her power to defeat him. She’ll probably want to murder both of us for managing to bring him back.”
Nikolai gave a rueful laugh. “The worst part is I don’t think she would have fallen for his scheme. She would have taken one look at Elizaveta and turned right back around. Orphans, you know. Very wily.”
Zoya contemplated another glass of brandy, but she didn’t want to make herself ill. “We can’t bring her here, not with all the guests arriving. And there’s no way I’m letting him near Keramzin.”
“We’ll need a secure location. Isolated. And plenty of Sun Soldiers on hand.”
“Not good enough. If Alina agrees, I’ll take him to see her myself. I’ll find whatever we need to raise the thorn wood.”
Nikolai paused with his hand on the bottle. “The wedding is in less than two weeks. I … I need you here.”
Zoya studied her empty glass, turning it clockwise, counterclockwise. “It would be better if I wasn’t here. The rumors about us … No doubt Queen Makhi has heard them. My presence would only complicate things.” That was some part of the truth. “Besides, do you trust anyone else to travel with him? To contain him if things go wrong?”
“I could go with you. At least part of the way.”
“No. We need a king, not an adventurer. Your work is here. With Princess Ehri. Talk to her. Build the bond between you. We need her trust.”
“You say that as if earning her trust will be easy.”
“Her injuries could be a boon. Sit by her side dutifully. Read her stories, or have Tolya pick some poetry.”
Nikolai shook his head. “All Saints, you’re callous. She was almost burned alive.”
“I know. But I’m also right. The Darkling knew how to use the people around him.”
“And are we to behave as he did?”
Zoya’s laugh sounded brittle to her ears. “A king with a demon inside him. A monk with the Darkling inside him. A general with a dragon inside her. We’re all monsters now, Nikolai.” She pushed her glass aside. It was time to say good night. She moved toward the door.
“Zoya,” Nikolai said. “War can make it hard to remember who you are. Let’s not forget the human parts of ourselves.”
Did she want to forget? What a gift that would be. To never feel as humans did, to never grieve again. Then it wouldn’t be so hard to leave this room. To shut the door on what might have been.