Tamar had returned to the cathedral as soon as night fell to retrieve the bodies of the khergud and arrange their transport to the capital for study. Tolya’s reluctance to desecrate a fallen soldier’s body had been considerably diminished by the ambush, and Nikolai felt no qualms at all. His guards had been attacked. Zoya had almost been taken. Besides, some part of him would always be a privateer. If the Shu wanted to wage this kind of war, let them reap the consequences.
Tolya had been ordered to watch the monk and make sure he sent no messages to his followers about what he’d seen. Now Yuri sat before the fire, still looking shaken. Tolya and Tamar played chess at a low table, and Zoya perched on the sill of the window, framed by the casement, as if she were the one who might take flight.
Nikolai shut the door, unsure how to begin. He thought of the Shu soldier’s body cut open on a table. He had seen dissection files, the detailed drawings rendered by Fabrikators and Corporalki. Was that what this problem required? For someone to cut him open and pull him apart? I’d do it gladly, he thought. If this thing could be isolated and excised like a tumor, I’d lie down beneath the scalpel and guide the surgeon’s hand myself.
But the monster was wilier than that.
It was Yuri who spoke first from his place on the floor. “He did this to you, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Nikolai said simply. He’d thought about what lies he might concoct to appease the monk’s fear and curiosity. But in the end, he knew the truth—at least part of it—would work to best advantage. Yuri wanted to believe in Saints, and Saints required martyrdom.
Yet now that the time had come to speak, Nikolai did not want to tell this story. He did not want it to be his story. He’d thought the war was in the past, but it refused to remain there.
He plucked a bottle of brandy from the sideboard, chose a chair, and stretched his legs out in front of the fire. It was a pose of ease and confidence, one he had assumed many times. It felt false.
“During the war,” he said, tugging the gloves from his hands, “I was captured by the Darkling. No doubt you’ve heard that I was tortured by your Starless Saint.”
Yuri’s eyes dropped to the tracery of black lines that spread over Nikolai’s fingers and knuckles. “Korol Rezni,” he said quietly. “King of Scars. I’ve heard the stories.”
“And chalked them up to royal propaganda? A smear campaign against a fallen hero?”
Yuri coughed. “Well—”
“Hand me that brandy,” said Zoya. “I can’t tolerate this degree of stupidity on a clear head.”
Nikolai poured himself a drink before turning over the bottle, but he knew mocking Yuri would do no good. Wasn’t speaking the truth supposed to be freeing? Some kind of tonic for the soul? In Nikolai’s experience, honesty was much like herbal tea—something well-meaning people recommended when they were out of better options.
“The Darkling had a gift for inflicting misery,” he continued. “He knew pain or imprisonment would be too easy for me to bear. So he used his power to infect me with living darkness. It was my payment for helping the Sun Summoner escape his grasp. I became … I don’t know what exactly I became. Part monster, part man. I hungered for human flesh. I was nearly mindless with the need. Nearly. Enough of my own consciousness still lived on in me that I continued to battle the monster’s impulses and even rallied the volcra to face the Darkling on the Fold.”
At the time, Nikolai hadn’t known if there was any point to fighting on, if he would ever be himself again. He hadn’t even known if the Darkling could be killed. But Alina had managed it, armed with a shadow blade wrapped in the Darkling’s own power and wet with the blood of his own line.
“Before she died, the Sun Summoner slew the Darkling, and the darkness inside me perished with him.” Nikolai took a long swig of his brandy. “Or so I thought.” He’d plummeted to the earth and would have died had Zoya not used the wind to cushion his fall, much as she’d done today. “Several months ago, something began to seize my unconscious mind. Some nights I sleep as well as can be expected—only a lazy monarch rests easy. But on other nights, I become the monster. He controls me completely.”
“Not completely,” said Zoya. “You haven’t taken a human life.”
Nikolai felt a rush of gratitude that she would be the one to speak those words, but he forced himself to add, “That we know of. The attacks are getting worse. They come more frequently. The tonics and even the chains I’ve used to keep them at bay are temporary solutions. It may be only a matter of time before my mind gives itself up to the beast and its hungers. It is possible …” Now the words fought him, poison in his mouth. “It’s possible the beast may overtake me completely and I’ll never be able to return to my human form.”
Silence filled the room, the quiet of a funeral. Why not throw a little more dirt on the coffin? “Today, the monster stepped forward in broad daylight, while I was still awake. That has never happened before.”
“Was it deliberate?” asked Yuri. “Did you choose to—”
“I didn’t choose anything. It simply happened. I think the shock Zoya sent through my body allowed me to come back to myself.” He took a long sip from his glass. “I can’t have this thing taking hold of me on a battlefield or in the middle of a state function. Ravka’s position is precarious, and so is mine. The people have only just begun to recover from the war. They want stability and leadership, not a monster born of nightmares.”
Peace. A chance to recover, to build their lives without the constant fear of battle, the threat of starvation. On this journey, Nikolai had seen the progress Ravka had made with his own eyes. His country could not afford to go to war again, and he’d done everything to make sure they wouldn’t have to. But if the monster emerged, if Nikolai revealed this dark presence, he might be the very thing that set his country back down the path to violence.
“Perhaps you don’t give the people enough credit,” said Yuri.
“No?” said Zoya from her perch. “The people who still call Grisha witches despite the years they’ve kept this country safe? Who bar them from owning property in their towns—”
“That is illegal,” said Nikolai.
Zoya raised her glass in a mock toast. “I’ll be sure to inform them the next time a Grisha family is driven from their home in the middle of the night.”
“People are always looking for someone to blame for their suffering,” Yuri said earnestly. “Ravka has seen so much strife. It’s only natural that—”
There was nothing natural about this.
“Yuri,” said Nikolai. “We can debate Ravka’s prejudices another time. I told you we came on this journey to investigate the miracle sites, to consider Sainthood for the Darkling.”
“Was any of that true?”
Nikolai did not intend to answer that question directly.
“The Darkling may deserve to take his place among the Saints, but that can’t happen until I’m rid of this affliction.”
Yuri nodded, then nodded again. He looked down at his bony hands. “But is it something to be rid of?”
Zoya expelled a bitter laugh. “He thinks you’ve been blessed by the Starless Saint.”