“Jarl Brum?” Zoya said in horror.
Nina sighed. “It’s been a rough year. I swear I’ll explain it all to you, and if you decide I should be put in a sack and dropped in the Sokol River, I will go with a minimum of wailing. But we came here tonight because I saw the Kherguud soldiers’ attack on West Stave. I want to help get these Grisha out of the city before the Shu find them.”
Zoya had to be several inches shorter than Nina, but she still managed to look down her nose when she said, “And how can you help?”
“We have a ship.” That wasn’t technically true yet, but Matthias wasn’t going to argue.
Zoya waved a dismissive hand. “We have a ship too. It’s stuck miles off the coast. The harbor has been blockaded by the Kerch and the Council of Tides. No foreign vessel can come or go without express permission from a member of the Merchant Council.”
So Kaz had been right. Van Eck was using every bit of his influence with the government to ensure Kaz didn’t get Kuwei out of Ketterdam.
“Sure,” said Nina. “But our ship belongs to a member of the Kerch Merchant Council.”
Zoya and Genya exchanged a glance.
“All right, Zenik,” said Zoya. “Now I’m listening.”
* * *
Nina filled in some of the details for Zoya and Genya, though Matthias noticed that she did not mention Kuwei and that she steered very clear of any talk of the Ice Court.
When they went upstairs to debate the proposal, they left Nina and Matthias behind, two armed guards posted at the entry to the cistern room.
In Fjerdan, Matthias whispered, “If Ravka’s spies are worth their salt, your friends are going to realize we were the ones who broke out Kuwei.”
“Don’t whisper,” Nina replied in Fjerdan, but in a normal tone of voice. “It will just make the guards suspicious. And I’ll tell Zoya and Genya everything eventually, but remember how keen we were on killing Kuwei? I’m not sure Zoya would make the same choice to spare him, at least not until he’s safely on Ravkan soil. She doesn’t need to know who’s on that boat until it docks in Os Kervo.”
Safely on Ravkan soil. The words sat heavy in Matthias’ gut. He was eager to get Nina out of the city, but nothing about the prospect of going to Ravka seemed safe to him.
Nina must have sensed his unease, because she said, “Ravka is the safest place for Kuwei. He needs our protection.”
“Just what does Zoya Nazyalensky’s protection look like?”
“She’s really not that bad.” Matthias shot her a skeptical look. “Actually, she’s terrible, but she and Genya saw a lot of death in the civil war. I don’t believe they want more bloodshed.”
Matthias hoped that was true, but even if it was, he wasn’t sure it would matter. “Do you remember what you said to me, Nina? You wished King Nikolai would march north and raze everything in his path.”
“I was angry—”
“You had a right to your anger. We all do. That’s the problem. Brum won’t stop. The drüskelle won’t stop. They consider it their holy mission to destroy your kind.” It had been his mission too, and he could still feel the distrust, the pull toward hatred. He cursed himself for it.
“Then we’ll find a way to change their minds. All of them.” She studied him a moment. “You used a duskbomb today. Did you have Wylan make it?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Why?”
He’d known she wouldn’t like it. “I wasn’t sure how the parem would affect your power. If I had to keep you from the drug, I needed to be able to fight you without hurting you.”
“And you brought it today in case we had trouble?”
“Yes.”
“With Grisha.”
He nodded, waiting for her admonishment, but all she did was watch him, her face thoughtful. She drew nearer. Matthias cast an uneasy glance at the guards’ backs, visible through the doorway. “Ignore them,” she said. “Why haven’t you kissed me, Matthias?”
“This isn’t the time—”
“Is it because of what I am? Is it because you still fear me?”
“No.”
She paused, and he could see her struggling with what she wanted to say. “Is it because of the way I behaved on the ship? The way I acted the other night … when I tried to get you to give me the rest of the parem?”
“How can you think that?”
“You’re always calling me shameless. I guess … I guess I’m ashamed.” She shuddered. “It’s like wearing a coat that doesn’t fit.”
“Nina, I gave you my oath.”
“But—”
“Your enemies are my enemies, and I will stand with you against any foe—including this accursed drug.”
She shook her head as if he was speaking nonsense. “I don’t want you to be with me because of an oath, or because you think you need to protect me, or because you think you owe me some stupid blood debt.”
“Nina—” he started, then stopped. “Nina, I am with you because you let me be with you. There is no greater honor than to stand by your side.”
“Honor, duty. I get it.”
Her temper he could bear, but her disappointment was unacceptable. Matthias knew only the language of war. He did not have the words for this. “Meeting you was a disaster.”
She raised a brow. “Thank you.”
Djel, he was terrible at this. He stumbled on, trying to make her understand. “But I am grateful every day for that disaster. I needed a cataclysm to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.”
“I,” she said, planting a hand on her hip, “am a delicate flower.”
“You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.”
“And what would you prefer?” she said, eyes blazing, the slightest quaver to her voice. “A proper Fjerdan girl who wears high collars and dunks herself in cold water whenever she has the urge to do something exciting?”
“That isn’t what I meant!”
She sidled closer to him. Again, his eyes strayed to the guards. Their backs were turned, but Matthias knew they must be listening, no matter what language he and Nina were speaking. “What are you so afraid of?” she challenged. “Don’t look at them, Matthias. Look at me.”
He looked. It was a struggle not to look. He loved seeing her in Fjerdan clothes, the little woolly vest, the full sweep of her skirts. Her green eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, her lips slightly parted. It was too easy to imagine himself kneeling like a penitent before her, letting his hands slide up the white curves of her calves, pushing those skirts higher, past her knees to the warm skin of her thighs. And the worst part was that he knew how good she would feel. Every cell in his body remembered the press of her naked body that first night in the whaling camp. “I … There is no one I want more; there is nothing I want more than to be overwhelmed by you.”
“But you don’t want to kiss me?”
He inhaled slowly, trying to bring order to his thoughts. This was all wrong.
“In Fjerda—” he began.
“We’re not in Fjerda.”
He needed to make her understand. “In Fjerda,” he persisted, “I would have asked your parents for permission to walk out with you.”
“I haven’t seen my parents since I was a child.”
“We would have been chaperoned. I would have dined with your family at least three times before we were ever left alone together.”
“We’re alone together now, Matthias.”
“I would have brought you gifts.”
Nina tipped her head to one side. “Go on.”
“Winter roses if I could afford them, a silver comb for your hair.”
“I don’t need those things.”
“Apple cakes with sweet cream.”
“I thought drüskelle didn’t eat sweets.”
“They’d all be for you,” he said.
“You have my attention.”
“Our first kiss would be in a sunlit wood or under a starry sky after a village dance, not in a tomb or some dank basement with guards at the door.”
“Let me get this straight,” Nina said. “You haven’t kissed me because the setting isn’t suitably romantic?”
“This isn’t about romance. A proper kiss, a proper courtship. There’s a way these things should be done.”
“For proper thieves?” The corners of her beautiful mouth curled and for a moment he was afraid she would laugh at him, but she simply shook her head and drew even nearer. Her body was the barest breath from his now. The need to close that scrap of distance was maddening.
“The first day you showed up at my house for this proper courtship, I would have cornered you in the pantry,” she said. “But please, tell me more about Fjerdan girls.”
“They speak quietly. They don’t engage in flirtations with every single man they meet.”
“I flirt with the women too.”
“I think you’d flirt with a date palm if it would pay you any attention.”
“If I flirted with a plant, you can bet it would stand up and take notice. Are you jealous?”
“All the time.”
“I’m glad. What are you looking at, Matthias?” The low thrum of her voice vibrated straight through him.
He kept his eyes on the ceiling, whispering softly. “Nothing.”
“Matthias, are you praying?”
“Possibly.”
“For restraint?” she said sweetly.
“You really are a witch.”
“I’m not proper, Matthias.”
“I am aware of this.” Miserably, keenly, hungrily aware.
“And I’m sorry to inform you, but you’re not proper either.”
His gaze dropped to her now. “I—”
“How many rules have you broken since you met me? How many laws? They won’t be the last. Nothing about us will ever be proper,” she said. She tilted her face up to his. So close now it was as if they were already touching. “Not the way we met. Not the life we lead. And not the way we kiss.”
She went up on tiptoe, and that easily, her mouth was against his. It was barely a kiss—just a quick, startling press of her lips.
Before she could even think of moving away, he had hold of her. He knew he was probably doing everything wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry, because she was in his arms, her lips were parting, her hands were twining around his neck, and sweet Djel, her tongue was in his mouth. No wonder Fjerdans were so cautious about courtship. If Matthias could be kissing Nina, feeling her nip at his lip with her clever teeth, feel her body fitted against his own, hear her release that little sigh in the back of her throat, why would he ever bother doing anything else? Why would anyone?
“Matthias,” Nina said breathlessly, and then they were kissing again.
She was sweet as the first rain, lush as new meadows. His hands curled along her back, tracing her shape, the line of her spine, the emphatic flare of her hips.
“Matthias,” she said more insistently, pulling away.
He opened his eyes, certain he’d made some horrible mistake. Nina was biting her lower lip—it was pink and swollen. But she was smiling, and her eyes sparkled. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Not at all, you glorious babink, but—”
Zoya cleared her throat. “I’m glad you two found a way to spend the time while you waited.”
Her expression was pure disgust, but next to her, Genya looked like she was about to burst with glee.
“Perhaps you should put me down?” suggested Nina.
Reality crashed in on Matthias—the guards’ knowing looks, Zoya and Genya in the doorway, and the fact that in the course of kissing Nina Zenik with a year’s worth of pent-up desire, he had lifted her clear off her feet.
A tide of embarrassment flooded through him. What Fjerdan did such a thing? Gently, he released his hold on her magnificent thighs and let her slide to the ground.
“Shameless,” Nina whispered, and he felt his cheeks go red.
Zoya rolled her eyes. “We’re making a deal with a pair of love-struck teenagers.”
Matthias felt another wave of heat in his face, but Nina just adjusted her wig and said, “So you’ll accept our help?”
It took them a short time to work out the logistics of how the night would go. Since it might not be safe for Nina to return to the tavern, once she had information on where and when to board Van Eck’s ship, she would get a message to the embassy—probably via Inej, since the Wraith could come and go without being seen. The refugees would remain in hiding as long as possible; then Genya and Zoya would get them to the harbor.
“Be prepared for a fight,” Matthias said. “The Shu will be watching this sector of town. They haven’t had the temerity to attack the embassy or the marketplace yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“We’ll be ready, Fjerdan,” said Zoya, and in her gaze he saw the steel of a born commander.
On their way out of the embassy, Nina found the golden-eyed Heartrender who had been part of the ambush at the tavern. She was Shu, with a short crop of black hair, and wore a pair of slender silver axes at her hips. Nina had told him she was the only Corporalnik among the Grisha refugees and diplomats.
“Tamar?” Nina said tentatively. “If the Kherguud come, you mustn’t allow yourself to be taken. A Heartrender in Shu possession and under the influence of parem could irrevocably tip the scales in their favor. You cannot imagine the power of this drug.”
“No one will take me alive,” said the girl. She slid a tiny, pale yellow tablet from her pocket, displaying it between her fingers.
“Poison?”
“Genya’s own creation. It kills instantly. We all have them.” She handed it to Nina. “Take it. Just in case. I have another.”
“Nina—” Matthias said.
But Nina didn’t hesitate. She slipped the pill into the pocket of her skirt before Matthias could speak another word of protest.
They made their way out of the government sector, steering clear of the market stalls and keeping well away from the tavern, where the stadwatch had gathered.
Matthias told himself to be alert, to focus on getting them back to Black Veil safely, but he could not stop thinking about that pale yellow pill. The sight of it had brought the dream back as vivid as ever, the ice of the north, Nina lost and Matthias powerless to save her. It had burned the unchecked joy of her kiss right out of him.
The dream had started on the ship, when Nina was in the worst throes of her struggle with parem. She’d been in a rage that night, body quaking, clothes soaked through with sweat.
You’re not a good man, she’d shouted. You’re a good soldier, and the sad thing is you don’t even know the difference. She’d been miserable later, weeping, sick with hunger, sick with regret. I’m sorry, she’d said. I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t mean it. And a moment later, If you would just help me. Her beautiful eyes were full of tears, and in the faint light from the lanterns, her pale skin had seemed gilded in frost. Please, Matthias, I’m in so much pain. Help me. He would have done anything, traded anything to ease her suffering, but he’d sworn he would not give her more parem. He’d made a vow that he would not let her become a slave to the drug, and he had to honor it, no matter what it cost him.
I can’t, my love, he’d whispered, pressing a cold towel to her brow. I can’t get you more parem. I had them lock the door from the outside.
In a flash her face changed, her eyes slitted. Then break the fucking door down, you useless skiv.
No.
She spat in his face.
Hours later, she’d been quiet, her energy spent, sad but coherent. She’d lain on her side, her eyelids a bruised shade of violet, breath coming in shallow pants, and said, “Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“About anything. Tell me about the isenulf.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised she knew of the isenulf, t
he white wolves bred to go into battle with the drüskelle. They were bigger than ordinary wolves, and though they were trained to obey their masters, they never lost the wild, indomitable streak that separated them from their distant domesticated cousins.
It had been hard to think about Fjerda, the life he’d left behind for good, but he made himself speak, eager for any way to distract her. “Sometimes there are more wolves than drüskelle, sometimes more drüskelle than wolves. The wolves decide when to mate, with little influence from the breeder. They’re too stubborn for that.”
Nina had smiled, then winced in pain. “Keep going,” she whispered.
“The same family has been breeding the isenulf for generations. They live far north near Stenrink, the Ring of Stones. When a new litter arrives, we travel there by foot and by sledge, and each drüskelle chooses a pup. From then on, you are each other’s responsibility. You fight beside each other, sleep on the same furs, your rations are your wolf’s rations. He is not your pet. He is a warrior like you, a brother.”
Nina shivered, and Matthias felt a sick rush of shame. In a battle with Grisha, the isenulf could help even the odds for a drüskelle, trained to come to his aid and tear out his attacker’s throat. Heartrender power seemed to have no effect on animals. A Grisha like Nina would be virtually helpless under isenulf attack.
“What if something happens to the wolf?” Nina asked.
“A drüskelle can train a new wolf, but it is a terrible loss.”
“What happens to the wolf if his drüskelle is killed?”
Matthias was silent for a time. He did not want to think about this. Trass had been the creature of his heart.
“They are returned to the wild, but they will never be accepted by any pack.” And what was a wolf without a pack? The isenulf were not meant to live alone.
When had the other drüskelle decided Matthias was dead? Had it been Brum who had taken Trass north to the ice? The idea of his wolf left alone, howling for Matthias to come and take him home, carved a hollow ache in his chest. It felt like something had broken there and left an echo, the lonely snap of a branch too heavy with snow.
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