“How dare you—”
Nina fluffed her skirts primly over her toes. “I’m not sure it’s an entirely wholesome atmosphere for a girl like Hanne. A shame,” Nina said as she turned to go. “But I will pray for you.”
She left the Wellmother red-cheeked and sputtering.
As much as Nina enjoyed baiting the Wellmother, she was glad of the woman’s suspicions. What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet? Kaz Brekker had once explained. Tell him you’re going to steal his watch. If that sour-mouthed crone thought Nina’s goal was to become a rich man’s mistress, then she’d be distracted from their real plan.
And what if Brum is bluffing? What if he knows exactly who I am? Nina had been fooled by Brum once before and had nearly lost her life in the process. This time, she would be more cautious. When she tangled with Jarl Brum again, she did not intend to leave him standing.
But she wasn’t prepared for the storm awaiting her in the classroom.
“What was that?” Hanne railed. Kori was nowhere to be found, and Hanne paced back and forth, her pinafore billowing behind her. “Quivering like a leaf in a storm. Crying like some kind of frightened child. That wasn’t you.”
Nina felt a sudden surge of anger. What she’d seen at the fort, the shock of meeting Brum again, the crimes of the Wellmother, it was all too much. “You barely know me,” she snapped.
“I know you’re brave enough to want to help your sister and reckless enough to break into a military stronghold to do it. I know you’re clever enough to dupe a roomful of drunk hunters and generous enough to help a desperate friend. Or is that all an act too?”
Nina clenched her fists. “I’m trying to make sure I survive, that both of us survive. Your father … I know his reputation. He’s a ruthless man.”
“He’s had to be.”
Nina wanted to scream. How could fierce, spirited Hanne be Brum’s daughter? And why couldn’t she see what he was? “If he knew you were Grisha, what would he do?”
Hanne turned toward the window. “I don’t know.”
“What if he knew I was trying to help you?”
Hanne shrugged. “I don’t know,” she repeated.
You know, Nina thought. You know what that bigoted bastard would do, but you’re too afraid to admit it.
Nina wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. She wanted to pull Hanne onto a horse and ride until they reached the shore. But she couldn’t think about any of that, not if they were going to free the girls in the fort. Adawesi. We fight. And Nina knew fighting meant using all the tools at her disposal—even Hanne’s guilt.
“You owe it to your father to keep this secret.” Nina felt sick saying those words, aware of the effect they would have. Hanne owed Brum nothing, but Nina forced herself to continue. “If he knew you were Grisha, it would put him in an impossible position. His reputation and his career would be at tremendous risk.”
Hanne slumped at the desk and put her head in her hands. “You think I don’t realize that?”
Nina crouched down before her. “Hanne, look at me.” Nina waited, and at last Hanne looked up. Her vibrant eyes were dry but anguished, and Nina knew that pain was not for herself but for the embarrassment she’d cause her father. “This country … this country does terrible things to its women and to its men. Your father thinks the way he does because he was raised to. But I can’t help him. I can’t fix him. I can help my sister. I can help you. And I’ll do what I have to in order to make that possible. If that means batting my lashes at your father and convincing him I’m a model of Fjerdan woman-hood, I’ll do it.”
“It’s disgusting. You looked at my father as if he were an incarnation of Djel.”
“I looked at your father the way he wants to be looked at—like a hero.”
Hanne ran her calloused thumb down the length of the old wooden desk. “Is that what you do with me?”
“No,” said Nina, and that, at least, was the truth. She had told Hanne countless lies, but she’d never flattered, never manipulated her in that way. “When I said you were talented, I meant it. When I said you were glorious, I meant that too.” Hanne met her gaze, and for a moment, Nina felt as if they weren’t stuck in this classroom or even this country. They were someplace better. They were someplace free. “Our first job is always to survive,” she said. “I won’t apologize for it.”
Hanne’s lips twitched. “Have you always been this sure of yourself?”
Nina shrugged. “Yes.”
“And your husband didn’t complain?”
“He complained,” Nina said—and suddenly she had to look away, because it was not some fictional merchant who had come to mind but Matthias with his strict propriety and his disapproving glower and his loving, generous heart. “He complained all the time.”
“Was he quick to anger?” Hanne asked.
Nina shook her head and pressed her palms to her eyes, unable to stop the tears that came, not wanting to. Saints, she was tired. “No. We didn’t always agree.” She smiled, tasting salt on her lips. “In fact, we almost never agreed. But he loved me. And I loved him.”
Hanne reached across the desk and let her fingers brush Nina’s hand. “I had no right to ask.”
“It’s okay,” said Nina. “The hurt just still catches me by surprise. It’s a sneaky little podge.”
Hanne leaned back, studying her. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Nina knew she should lower her head, make some comment about reining in her boldness of spirit, demonstrate that she gave a damn about Fjerdan ways. Instead, she sniffled and said, “Of course you haven’t. I’m spectacular.”
Hanne laughed. “I would cut off a thumb for a thimbleful of your confidence.”
Nina brushed her tears away and squeezed Hanne’s hand, felt the warm press of her palm, the calluses of her fingers. Hands that could sew. String a bow. Soothe a sick child. It felt good to take this small bit of comfort—even if it also felt like she was stealing.
“I’m glad I met you, Hanne,” Nina said.
“Do you mean that?”
She nodded, surprised at how much she did. Hanne might not be loud or reckless with her words, she might bow her head to her father and the Wellmother, but she had never let Fjerda break her. Despite her curtsies and her talk of family honor, she had remained defiant.
Hanne sighed. “Good. Because my father wants you to join us for dinner tonight after he tours the factory.”
“When does he return to the capital?”
“Tomorrow morning.” Hanne’s gaze was steady, knowing. “You’re planning something.”
“Yes,” said Nina. “You knew I would. I won’t act until he’s gone. But I’m going to need your help.”
“What do you want me to do?”
A great deal. And none of it will be easy. “I want you to become who your father always hoped you’d be.”
NIKOLAI WAS GETTING BETTER AT calling the monster, but his mood seemed to be growing darker. He was quieter and more distant at the end of each visit with Elizaveta, though it was Zoya who had to face drowning. By now they didn’t think Elizaveta had any real intention of killing her, but the monster still seemed to believe the threat was real—a fact that didn’t sit well with Zoya. Thanks to her lessons with Juris, she suspected she could break through the amber walls the Saint erected around her, and when the sap began to rise around her legs, it was hard not to try. But she wasn’t there to prove her strength, only to help Nikolai make the monster rise.