“We didn’t know what he was then.”
“Didn’t we?” Genya adjusted her eyepatch. “Yuri is a frightened boy looking for something bigger than himself to give his life meaning. There are people like him all over Ravka.”
“That’s what worries me.”
Tolya sat down beside his sister, and Nikolai caught the look that passed between them. This was not the time to start keeping secrets. “What is it?”
Tolya heaved his great shoulders. “There may be something to Yuri’s story. The Priestguard weren’t always just lackeys for the Apparat. They were holy warriors who served the crown as well. When I was younger I wanted nothing more than to join them.”
“What stopped you?” Nikolai asked. He wasn’t surprised exactly. Both Tolya and Tamar had been raised in the church, and he was well aware that if Alina Starkov hadn’t given Nikolai her blessing as king, the twins would never have pledged themselves as his guards.
“They wouldn’t let me join,” said Tamar. “No women allowed.”
Tolya nodded. “I had to question a holy order that claimed to want warriors but would deny a fighter like Tamar.”
Tamar rested her hands on her axes. “The Saints had a different plan for us.”
“Ah,” said Nikolai. “But what do the Saints have planned now? Zoya, when I got free from Duke Radimov’s estate in Ivets, you found me where?”
“A goose farm on the road to Varena.”
Nikolai touched his finger to the map. “A northeastern path. But every time I’ve gotten loose from the palace, I’ve headed northwest. Each time I’ve taken the same route, just gone a little farther. What if the creature is trying to get to that spot on the Fold? What if it wants to be free of me as much as I want to be free of it?”
“Or what if these supposed miracles are a plan to lure you from the palace?” said Zoya.
“To the Fold? Why?”
Zoya cast up her hands. “I don’t know.”
“The ‘miracles’ began when the demon woke inside me. It may be connected to the Darkling’s power or Yuri may be talking nonsense, but that pattern is real. Something is happening, and it’s connected to this spot on the Shadow Fold.”
“It’s not safe to leave the palace—” Zoya protested.
“There are no safe places. Not anymore.” He’d proven that himself last night. “Genya will mix me a stronger tonic. David will forge thicker chains. I’m going on a pilgrimage.”
“To some mystical thorn wood?” said Zoya. “Even if it once existed, the Fold obliterated everything in its path. There’s nothing there anymore.”
Tolya spoke a long string of words, only a few of which Nikolai could pick out. Then he said, “Lost faith is the roots of a forgotten wood, waiting to thrive once more.”
Zoya narrowed her eyes. “We agreed no poetry during meetings.”
“It’s liturgical Ravkan,” Tolya objected. “It’s from the Book of Alyosha, which you might know if you ever went to church.”
“It’s a wonder I’ve survived this long without such knowledge.”
“Tolya,” Nikolai interrupted. “I’m going to need you to find any texts you can on the obisbaya and anything connected to it. I don’t want Yuri to be the only scholar I can rely on.”
“I’m not a scholar,” protested Tolya.
“You might have been in another life,” said Nikolai.
“What do you mean, the only scholar?” Zoya said. “You can’t possibly mean to travel with the monk.”
Genya shifted in her seat. “It will look like you’re lending support to the Cult of the Starless. I don’t like the message that sends.”
“We’ll make sure Yuri is disguised, and I don’t intend to take a direct route to the Fold,” said Nikolai. “There may be something we can learn at the other miracle sites, and visiting them will give me an opportunity to walk among my subjects before I choose a bride. We have armies massing at both borders, new Lantsov pretenders cropping up to make claims on the throne. Our coffers are empty and our allies are few. I cannot afford to lose the support of the common people. We’re going to need it in the days to come.”
“And what if it all leads to nothing?” asked Genya. “What if the Darkling left you with this curse and there are no answers to be found?”
Zoya laid her fingers flat on the table. “What if Yuri discovers the truth about the monster?”
“Then we pray I can silence him and keep this secret long enough to secure Ravka’s future. Even without an heir, there may be a way to keep the throne safe and make sure the country isn’t left vulnerable.”
“And what exactly is that?” asked Zoya.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try trusting me, Zoya? It’s positively intoxicating.” The idea had come to him the previous week, when they’d arrived from Count Kirigin’s and had been greeted by Trukhin and Isaak.
Zoya pursed her lips. “I don’t like any of this. There’s too much room for disaster.”
Nikolai knew that. They were running out of time, and this journey to the Fold smacked of desperation. He could not deny the fear that clung to him, the doubt it sowed in his heart. What if his mind unraveled and his will with it? What if he attacked one of his friends again and there was no one there to stop him? What damage might he unleash on the people he loved? On the world?
Nikolai could not deny those fears, but he refused to give in to them. He would not just hand the monster a victory.
He turned to the people assembled before him—his advisers, his soldiers, his family. He needed them to believe, if not in Yuri’s tales, then in Nikolai himself, the person he had been before the Darkling and the war. He straightened the lapels of his velvet coat and winked.
“It’s not exciting if nothing can go wrong.”
He felt the monster recoil. Action. Decision. In moments like these, he felt almost like his old self. If this thing wanted to claim his soul, Nikolai intended to give it a damn good fight—and that battle began here, now, with a refusal to relinquish any bit of his spirit to the terror trying to drag him into the dark. He would do what he had always done: He would charge forward and pray that hope might be waiting like the roots of the thorn wood—just out of sight.
DUSK HAD FALLEN by the time she pushed to her feet.
The sky looked more gray than purple, wounded like a deep bruise, and the air felt moist against her cheeks. Snow had begun to fall in gentle drifts.
It didn’t stay gentle for long.
Nina had never seen a storm come on so fast. The wind blew hard, and snow blurred the whole world white. Gruzeburya. Even the Ravkans had a name for this wind. The Brute. Not for the cold it brought but for the way it blinded you like a thug in a dirty fight. Nina was torn between trying to follow the sound of the river back to camp and being afraid she might stray too close to the banks and fall in.
She trudged on, squinting against the white. At one point she thought she heard Adrik’s voice calling to her, glimpsed the bright yellow flag they’d raised above the tent, but a moment later it was gone.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. She had not been made for such places. Nina wouldn’t survive a night without shelter in this weather. She had no choice but to continue on.