the thorn wood, depending on which story you believed. It was also the location of the first obisbaya, a ritual meant to separate beast from man. But the Darkling had tainted all that. His attempt to create his own amplifiers and his use of merzost to do it had made a mockery of his power, twisting it into a dark territory crowded with monsters. Sometimes Nikolai wondered if they’d ever be free of that legacy.
Not if you don’t face your part in it. It was time they acknowledged the ugly truth of what this blight meant.
“There’s no other explanation,” he said. “The Fold is expanding. And we caused it.”
“You don’t know that—” Tamar began.
“We do,” said Zoya. Her voice was cold.
Nikolai remembered the earthquakes that had been felt throughout Ravka and beyond when the boundaries of the Fold had ruptured. Elizaveta had been defeated. Three Saints, Grisha of infinite power, had died violently. Nikolai’s attempt to endure the obisbaya and rid himself of his demon had failed. The Darkling’s power lived on inside him, and now the man himself walked the earth once more. Of course there were bound to be consequences.
“We’ll take soil samples,” he continued. “But we know what’s happening here.”
“Fine. You’re to blame,” said Tamar. “How do we stop it?”
“Kill the Darkling,” said Zoya.
Tolya rolled his eyes. “That’s your answer to everything.”
Zoya shrugged. “How do we know if we don’t try?”
“And what about the demon trapped inside the king?” asked Tamar.
Zoya scowled. “Details.”
“We could attempt the obisbaya again,” Tolya suggested. “I found a new text that—”
“It nearly killed him last time,” Zoya snapped.
“Details,” said Nikolai. “We’ll have to consider it.”
“After the wedding,” said Zoya.
“Yes,” said Nikolai, trying to summon some enthusiasm. “After the wedding.”
With her eyes on the horizon, Zoya said, “Please tell me you’ve made progress with Princess Ehri.”
“Contemplating jabbing a thorn through my heart again is easier than wooing a princess.”
“It certainly requires more finesse,” Zoya said. “Which you have in abundance.”
“That doesn’t quite sound like a compliment.”
“It isn’t. You have more charm than sense. But while that makes you irritating, it should also be of use in delicate matters of diplo- macy.”
“Honestly, I’ve barely had a chance to speak with her.” He’d meant to invite her to his Saint’s day feast, but somehow he’d never gotten around to it. Nikolai knew he should talk to her. He must if he had any hope of seeing his plans for the future come to fruition. But he’d been avoiding spending time with the princess since that disastrous night when Isaak had died and the woman everyone had believed to be Ehri was revealed as an assassin. Since then, the real Princess Ehri had been sequestered in luxurious quarters that were still very much a prison. Her Tavgharad guards had been kept in the most hospitable part of the dungeons beneath the old stables, and the assassin—the girl who had driven a knife into Isaak’s heart, thinking she was killing a king—was under lock and key, still healing from her wounds. As for Nikolai’s other prisoner? Well, he had a very unique cell of his own.
“Ehri is softening,” Nikolai continued. “But she’s stubborn.”
“A good trait for a queen,” said Zoya.
“Do you think so?”
Nikolai watched Zoya’s face. He couldn’t help watching. Her glance at him was so swift he might have imagined it, a flash of blue, the sky glimpsed through trees. And the meaning of that glance? Something. Nothing. He’d have more luck trying to tell his fortune in the clouds.
Zoya kept her reins in one hand as she adjusted her gloves. “In less than a month, Queen Makhi will arrive, expecting a grand celebration. Without the presumed bride’s cooperation, you’re going to find yourself in the middle of an international incident.”
“He may well anyway,” said Tamar.
“Yes, but if the wedding doesn’t happen, Nikolai won’t have to worry about the Fjerdans or the Shu or the Fold.”
“I won’t?”
“No, because Genya will have murdered you. Do you have any idea how much work she’s put into planning this grand event?”
Nikolai sighed. “It will happen. I’ve already had a new suit made.”
“A suit,” Zoya said, casting her eyes heavenward. “You’ll be very well-dressed at your funeral. Talk to Ehri. Charm her.”
She was right, and that vexed him more than anything. He was grateful to see a rider approaching from camp, though the messenger’s grim expression instantly set Nikolai’s heart racing. No one ever rode that fast when the news was good.
“What is it?” Nikolai asked as the rider drew