Ruin and Rising (The Grisha Trilogy)

by Leigh Bardugo

  “Alina—” he began.

  I grabbed the lapels of his coat, tears filling my eyes. “Don’t tell me this is all happening for a reason,” I said fiercely. “Or that it’s going to be okay. Don’t tell me you’re ready to die.”

  We stood in the tall grass, wind singing through the reeds. He met my gaze, his blue eyes steady. “It’s not going to be okay.” He brushed the hair back from my cheeks and cupped my face in his rough hands. “None of this is happening for a reason.” He skimmed his lips over mine. “And Saints help me, Alina, I want to live forever.”

  He kissed me again, and this time, he didn’t stop—not until my cheeks were flushed and my heart was racing, not until I could barely remember my own name, let alone anyone else’s, not until we heard Harshaw singing, and Tolya grumbling, and Zoya cheerfully promising to murder us all.

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT, I slept in Mal’s arms, wrapped in furs beneath the stars. We whispered in the dark, stealing kisses, conscious of the others lying only a few feet away. Some part of me wished that a Shu raiding party would come and put a bullet through both of our hearts, leave us there forever, two bodies that would turn to dust and be forgotten. I thought about just leaving, abandoning the others, abandoning Ravka as we’d once intended, striking out through the mountains and making our way to the coast.

  I thought of all these things. But I rose the next morning, and the morning after that. I ate dry biscuits, drank bitter tea. Too soon, the mountains faded, and we began our final descent into Dva Stolba. We’d arrived back sooner than expected, in time to retrieve the Bittern and still meet any forces the Apparat might send to Caryeva. When I saw the two stone spindles of the ruins, I wanted to level them, let the Cut do what time and weather had failed to, and turn them to rubble.

  It took a little while to locate the boardinghouse where Tamar and the others had found lodging. It was two stories high and painted a cheerful blue, its porch hung with prayer bells, its pointed roof covered in Shu inscriptions that glittered with gold pigment.

  We found Tamar and Nadia seated at a low table in one of the public rooms, Adrik beside them, his empty coat sleeve neatly pinned, a book perched awkwardly on his knees. They sprang to their feet when they saw us.

  Tolya enveloped his sister in an enormous hug, while Zoya gave Nadia and Adrik a grudging embrace. Tamar hugged me close as Oncat sprang from Harshaw’s shoulders to forage through the leavings of their meal.

  “What happened?” she asked, taking in my troubled expression.

  “Later.”

  Misha came pelting down the stairs and hurled himself at Mal. “You came back!” he shouted.

  “Of course we did,” said Mal, sweeping him into a hug. “Did you keep to your duties?”

  Misha nodded solemnly.

  “Good. I expect a full report later.”

  “Come on,” Adrik said eagerly. “Did you find it? David’s upstairs with Genya. Should I go get him?”

  “Adrik,” chastised Nadia, “they’re exhausted and probably starving.”

  “Is there tea?” asked Tolya.

  Adrik nodded and went off to order.

  “We have news,” said Tamar, “and it isn’t good.”

  I didn’t think it could possibly be worse than our news, so I waved her on. “Tell me.”

  “The Darkling attacked West Ravka.”

  I sat down hard. “When?”

  “Almost immediately after you left.”

  I nodded. It was some comfort in knowing there was nothing I could have done. “How bad?”

  “He used the Fold to take a big chunk out of the south, but from what we’ve heard, most of the people had already evacuated.”

  “Any word of Nikolai’s forces?”

  “There are rumors of cells cropping up fighting under the Lantsov banner, but without Nikolai to lead them, I’m not sure how long they’ll hold out.”

  “All right.” At least now I knew what we were dealing with.

  “There’s more.”

  I glanced at Tamar questioningly, and the look on her face sent a chill slithering over my skin.

  “The Darkling marched on Keramzin.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  MY STOMACH LURCHED. “What?”

  “There are … there are rumors that he put it to the torch.”

  “Alina—” Mal said.

  “The students,” I said, panic creeping in on me. “What happened to the students?”

  “We don’t know,” said Tamar.

  I pressed my hands to my eyes, trying to think. “Your key,” I said, my breath coming in harsh gasps.

  “There’s no reason to believe—”

  “The key,” I repeated, hearing the quaking edge in my voice.

  Tamar handed it to me. “Third on the right,” she said softly.

  I took the stairs two at a time. Near the top, I slipped and banged my knee hard on one of the steps. I barely felt it. I stumbled down the hall, counting the doors. My hands were shaking so badly, it took me two tries to fit the key in the lock and get it to turn.

  The room was painted in reds and blues, just as cheerful as the rest of the place. I saw Tamar’s jacket thrown over a chair by the tin basin, the two narrow beds pushed together, the rumpled wool blankets. The window was open, and autumn sunlight flooded through. A cool breeze lifted the curtains.

  I slammed the door behind me and walked to the window. I gripped the sill, vaguely registering the rickety houses at the edge of the settlement, the spindles in the distance, the mountains beyond. I felt the pull of the wound in my shoulder, the creep of darkness inside me. I launched myself across the tether, seeking him, the only thought in my mind: What have you done?

  With my next breath, I was standing before him, the room a blur around me.

  “At last,” the Darkling said. He turned to me, his beautiful face coming into focus. He was leaning against a scorched mantel. Its outline was sickeningly familiar.

  His gray eyes were empty, haunted. Was it Baghra’s death that had left him this way or some horrific crime he’d committed here?

  “Come,” the Darkling said softly. “I want you to see.”

  I was trembling, but I let him take my hand and place it in the crook of his arm. As he did, the blurriness of the vision cleared and the room came to life around me.

  We were in what had been the sitting room at Keramzin. The shabby sofas were stained black with soot. Ana Kuya’s treasured samovar lay on its side, a tarnished hulk. Nothing remained of the walls but a charred and jagged skeleton, the ghosts of doorways. The curving metal staircase that had once led to the music room had buckled from the heat, its steps fusing together. The ceiling was gone. I could see straight through the wreck of the second story. Where the attic should have been, there was only gray sky.

  Strange, I thought stupidly. The sun is shining in Dva Stolba.

  “I’ve been here for days,” he said, leading me through the wreckage, over the piles of debris, through what had once been the entry hall, “waiting for you.”

  The stone steps that led to the front door were smeared with ash but intact. I saw the long, straight gravel drive, the white pillars of the gate, the road that led to town. It had been nearly two years since I’d seen this view, but it was just as I remembered.

  The Darkling placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me slightly.

  My legs gave way. I fell to my knees, my hands clasped over my mouth. A sound tore from me, too broken to be called a scream.

  The oak I’d once climbed on a dare still stood, untouched by the fire that had taken Keramzin. Now its branches were full of bodies. The three Grisha instructors hung from the same thick limb, their kefta fluttering slightly in the wind—purple, red, and blue. Beside them, Botkin’s face was nearly black above the rope that had dug into his neck. He was covered in wounds. He’d died fighting before they’d strung him up. Next to him, Ana Kuya swayed in her black dress, her heavy key ring at her waist, the toes of her
button boots nearly scraping the ground.

  “She was, I think, the closest thing you had to a mother,” murmured the Darkling.

  The sobs that shook me were like the lashes of a whip. I flinched with each one, bent double, collapsing into myself. The Darkling knelt before me. He took me by the wrists, pulling my hands free from my face, as if he wanted to watch me weep.

  “Alina,” he said. I kept my eyes on the steps, my tears clouding my vision. I would not look at him. “Alina,” he repeated.

  “Why?” The word was a wail, a child’s cry. “Why would you do this? How can you do this? Don’t you feel any of it?”

  “I have lived a long life, rich in grief. My tears are long since spent. If I still felt as you do, if I ached as you do, I could not have borne this eternity.”

  “I hope Botkin killed twenty of your Grisha,” I spat at him, “a hundred.”

  “He was an extraordinary man.”

  “Where are the students?” I made myself ask, though I wasn’t sure I could bear the answer. “What have you done?”

  “Where are you, Alina? I felt sure you would come to me when I moved against West Ravka. I thought your conscience would demand it. I could only hope that this would draw you out.”

  “Where are they?” I screamed.

  “They are safe. For now. They will be on my skiff when I enter the Fold again.”

  “As hostages,” I said dully.

  He nodded. “In case you get any thoughts of attack rather than surrender. In five days, I will return to the Unsea, and you will come to me—you and the tracker—or I will drive the Fold all the way to West Ravka’s coast, and I will march those children, one by one, to the mercy of the volcra.”

  “This place … these people, they were innocent.”

  “I have waited hundreds of years for this moment, for your power, for this chance. I have earned it with loss and with struggle. I will have it, Alina. Whatever the cost.”

  I wanted to claw at him, to tell him I’d see him torn apart by his own monsters. I wanted to tell him I would bring all the power of Morozova’s amplifiers down on him, an army of light, born of merzost, perfect in its vengeance. I might be able to do it, too. If Mal gave up his life.

  “There will be nothing left,” I whispered.

  “No,” he said gently as he folded me in his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of my hair. “I will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no shelter but me.”

  In grief, in horror, I let myself break apart.

  * * *

  I WAS STILL ON MY KNEES, my hands clutching the windowsill, my forehead pressed against the wooden slats of the boardinghouse wall. Outside, I could hear the faint jingle of prayer bells. Inside, there was no sound but the hitch of my breath, the rasp of my sobs as the whip continued to fall, as I bent my back and wept. That was where they found me.

  I didn’t hear the door open, or their steps as they approached. I just felt gentle hands take hold of me. Zoya sat me down on the edge of the bed, and Tamar settled beside me. Nadia took a comb to my hair, carefully working through the tangles. Genya washed first my face, then my hands with a cool cloth she’d wetted in the basin. It smelled faintly of mint.

  We sat there, saying nothing, all of them clustered around me.

  “He has the students,” I said flatly. “Twenty-three children. He killed the teachers. And Botkin.” And Ana Kuya, a woman they’d never known. The woman who had raised me. “Mal—”

  “He told us,” said Nadia softly.

  I think some part of me expected blame, recrimination. Instead, Genya rested her head on my shoulder. Tamar squeezed my hand.

  This wasn’t just comfort, I realized. They were leaning on me—as I was leaning on them—for strength.

  I have lived a long life, rich in grief.

  Had the Darkling had friends like this? People whom he’d loved, who had fought for him, and cared for him, and made him laugh? People who had become little more than sacrifices to a dream that outlived them?

  “How long do we have?” Tamar asked.

  “Five days.”

  A knock came at the door. It was Mal. Tamar made room for him beside me.

  “Bad?” he asked.

  I nodded. I couldn’t yet stand to tell him what I’d seen. “I have five days to surrender, or he’ll use the Fold again.”

  “He’ll do it anyway,” said Mal. “You said so yourself. He’ll find a reason.”

  “I might buy us some time—”

  “At what cost? You were willing to give up your life,” he said quietly. “Why won’t you let me do the same?”

  “Because I can’t bear it.”

  His face went hard. He seized my wrist and again I felt that jolt. Light cascaded behind my eyes, as if my whole body were ready to crack open with it. Unspeakable power lay behind that door, and Mal’s death would open it.

  “You will bear it,” he said. “Or all of these deaths, all we’ve given up, will be for nothing.”

  Genya cleared her throat. “Um. The thing is, you may not have to. David has an idea.”

  * * *

  “ACTUALLY, IT WAS Genya’s idea,” David said.

  We were crowded around a table beneath an awning, a little way down the street from our boardinghouse. There were no real restaurants in this part of the settlement, but a kind of makeshift tavern had been set up in a burned-out lot. There were lanterns strung over the rickety tables, a wooden keg of sweet fermented milk, and meat roasting in two metal drums like the one we’d seen that first day at the market. The air was thick with the smell of juniper smoke.

  Two men were shooting dice at a table near the keg while another plucked his way through a shapeless tune on a battered guitar. There was no discernible melody, but Misha seemed satisfied. He’d taken up an elaborate dance that apparently required clapping and a great deal of concentration.

  “We’ll make sure to put Genya’s name on the plaque,” said Zoya. “Just get on with it.”

  “Remember how you disguised the Bittern?” David asked. “The way you bent the light around the ship instead of letting it bounce off of it?”

  “I was thinking,” said Genya. “What if you did that with us?”

  I frowned. “You mean—”

  “It’s the exact same principle,” said David. “It’s a greater challenge because there are more variables than just blue sky, but curving light around a soldier is no different than curving light around an object.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Harshaw. “You mean we’d be invisible?”

  “Exactly,” said Genya.

  Adrik leaned forward. “The Darkling will launch from the drydocks in Kribirsk. We could sneak into his camp. Get the students out that way.” His fist was clenched, his eyes alight. He knew those children better than any of us. Some of them were probably his friends.

  Tolya frowned. “There’s no way we’d get into camp and free them without being noticed. Some of those kids are younger than Misha.”

  “Kribirsk will be too complicated,” said David. “Lots of people, interrupted sight lines. If Alina had more time to practice—”

  “We have five days,” I repeated.

  “So we attack on the Fold,” said Genya. “Alina’s light will keep the volcra at bay—”

  I shook my head. “We’d still have to fight the Darkling’s nichevo’ya.”

  “Not if they can’t see us,” said Genya.

  Nadia grinned. “We’d be hiding in plain sight.”

  “He’ll have oprichniki and Grisha too,” said Tolya. “They won’t be short on ammunition like we will. Even if they can’t see their targets, they may just open fire and hope they get lucky.”

  “So we stay out of range.” Tamar moved her plate to the center of the table. “This is the glass skiff,” she said. “We place marksmen around the perimeter and use them to thin the Darkling’s ranks. Then we get close enough to sneak onto the skiff, and once we get the kids to safety—”

 
; “We blow it to bits,” said Harshaw. He was practically salivating at the prospect of the explosion.

  “And the Darkling with it,” Genya finished.

  I gave Tamar’s plate a turn, considering what the others were suggesting. Without the third amplifier, my power was no match for the Darkling’s in a head-on confrontation. He’d proved that in no uncertain terms. But what if I came at him unseen, using light for cover the way others used darkness? It was sneaky, even cowardly, but the Darkling and I had left honor behind long ago. He’d been in my head, waged war on my heart. I wasn’t interested in a fair fight, not if there was a chance I could save Mal’s life.

  As if he could read my mind, Mal said, “I don’t like it. Too many things can go wrong.”

  “This isn’t just your choice,” said Nadia. “You’ve been fighting beside us and bleeding with us for months now. We deserve the chance to try and save your life.”

  “Even if you’re a useless otkazat’sya,” added Zoya.

  “Careful,” said Harshaw. “You’re talking to the Darkling’s … wait, what are you? His cousin? His nephew?”

  Mal shuddered. “I have no idea.”

  “Are you going to start wearing black now?”

  Mal gave a very firm “No.”

  “You’re one of us,” said Genya, “whether you like it or not. Besides, if Alina has to kill you, she may go completely crazy and she’ll have the three amplifiers. Then it will be up to Misha to stop her with the power of awful dancing.”

  “She is pretty moody,” said Harshaw. He tapped his temple. “Not totally there, if you know what I mean.”

  They were kidding, but they might also have been right. You were meant to be my balance. What I felt for Mal was messy and stubborn and might leave me heartbroken in the end, but it was also human.

  Nadia reached out and nudged Mal’s hand. “At least consider the plan. And if it all goes wrong—”

  “Alina gets a new bracelet,” finished Zoya.

  I scowled. “How about I slice you open and see how your bones fit?”

  Zoya fluffed her hair. “I bet they’re just as gorgeous as the rest of me.”

  I gave Tamar’s plate another turn, trying to imagine what this kind of maneuver might require. I wished I had Nikolai’s mind for strategy. One thing I was sure of. “It will take more than an explosion to kill the Darkling. He survived the Fold and the destruction of the chapel.”