The sitting room felt empty and too silent. He was used to spending this time with Zoya, talking through the day’s events. When there were two of them to face their battles, it didn’t feel so overwhelming, and tonight that feeling was worse than usual. It wasn’t just that they’d thrust themselves into the unknown with this false wedding and their play to win the Shu to their side. The demon had almost broken free today. Nikolai had nearly lost control, and he still wasn’t sure what had caused it or if it might happen again. He’d managed to leash the cursed thing, but he’d felt like he’d had one hand on the reins all night. He was almost afraid to fall asleep. Maybe it was safer not to.
He rang for tea. He’d spend the night working.
It was Tolya who brought the tray. He’d abandoned his red kefta and changed back into his olive drab uniform. “I can’t sleep.”
“We could play cards,” suggested Nikolai.
“I’ve been working on a new poem—”
“Or we could shoot ourselves out of a cannon.”
Tolya’s glower was ferocious. “A bit of culture wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I have no objection to culture. I’ll have you know I’ve fallen asleep at some of the very best ballets. Pour a cup for yourself.” As Tolya poured, Nikolai asked, “Tolya, Tamar found the girl of her dreams. How is it you’re still alone?”
Tolya shrugged his huge shoulders. “I have my faith, my books. I’ve never wanted more.”
“Were you in love with Alina?”
Tolya finished pouring before he said, “Were you?”
“I cared about her. I still do. I think I could have loved her, in time.”
Tolya took a sip of his tea. “I know she was only a girl to you, but to me she is a Saint. That’s a different kind of love.”
A loud bell began to ring from somewhere in the distance.
“What is that?” asked Tolya, his brow creasing.
Nikolai was already on his feet. “The alarm bells in the lower town.” He hadn’t heard them since his doomed birthday party, when most of the Lantsov line had been slaughtered. “Get—”
He heard a distant drone—engines in the sky. All the Saints, it can’t be …
Then a whoosh, like the loud, excited roar of a crowd.
Boom. The first bomb struck. The room shook, and Nikolai and Tolya were nearly thrown from their feet. Then another boom and another.
Nikolai threw the door open. Half the hallway had caved in, leaving it blocked by a slump of rubble. The air was full of plaster dust. Nikolai could only pray that no guards or servants had been trapped already.
He sprinted down the hall, Tolya beside him, and grabbed the first guard he could find, a young captain named Yarik. He was covered in dust and bleeding from where he’d been struck by something, but he had his rifle in hand and his eyes were clear.
“Your Highness,” he shouted. “We have to get you to the tunnels.”
“Gather everyone you can. Clear the palace and get them underground.”
“But—”
Boom.
“The roof may come down,” said Nikolai. “Move!”
The very earth was shaking. It felt as if the world was coming apart.
“Mobilize the Grisha to the town,” Nikolai said as he and Tolya ran toward the Little Palace. “They’ll need Healers and Squallers to help move the debris. Signal Lazlayon and get our flyers in the air.”
“Where are you going?” said Tolya.
Nikolai was already racing toward the lake. “Up.”
His boots pounded the dock. He leapt into the cockpit of the Peregrine. It wasn’t quite as agile as the Sparrowhawk but carried heavier guns. It was fast and lethal and it felt like an animal coming to life around him.
The flyer surged forward on the water, and then Nikolai was rising into the moonlight, searching the sky. The demon inside him shrieked in anticipation.
Fjerdan bombers were built of heavy steel. They carried major firepower but were slow to maneuver. They shouldn’t have been able to haul their payloads so far from home; they were too heavy, too fuel-hungry. A game of range. And Fjerda had just made a move that would change that game forever. David’s missiles could not remain a hypothetical any longer.
Nikolai had never dreamed the Fjerdans would attack a civilian target or risk harming the Shu queen. Had they known she would depart early or simply gotten lucky? Or had Queen Makhi known when the bombs would fall all along?
He couldn’t be sure, and he couldn’t consider the implications now.