Rule of Wolves (King of Scars #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,136

behind them, keeping her arms restrained. She couldn’t have gotten far in the tunnels.

In the distance, Mayu heard the thrum of what might have been an airship engine.

Princess Ehri looked around, taking in Tamar, the queen, the unconscious doctor. “Did we … did we win?”

Queen Makhi began to laugh. “‘Did we win?’” she singsonged. “This is the fool who seeks to decide the fate of a nation? What do you think you’ve accomplished here tonight? There are no ministers here to witness my supposed crimes. By the time you rally them, I’ll have the khergud transported and this facility burned to the ground.”

“We’re not going to give you that chance,” said Mayu.

“I am a queen. Is that so hard to grasp? Do you think you can just march me back to the palace with your Ravkan bodyguard? They’ll hang you for a traitor. I have troops surrounding this building, and any messenger you send will be intercepted. So to answer your question, little sister: No, you haven’t won.”

“Look around you, Makhi,” Ehri said. “Is this what you want your legacy to be? Torture?”

“What you call torture, I call science. If I were building tanks like the Fjerdans or missiles like the Ravkans, would you find that more palatable? People die. That is what war is.”

Reyem slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a deep dent. “To be khergud is to die a thousand times.”

“You had no right,” said Mayu, rage coursing through her. “You are a queen, not a god.”

Makhi drew in a breath, looking down her nose at all of them. There could be no doubt she had been born to rule. “It was not my right. It was my duty. To make my country strong.”

“You need bear the burden of that duty no longer.”

They all turned. Leyti Kir-Taban, Daughter of Heaven and Taban queen, entered the laboratory, dressed in a gown of green velvet embroidered with roses the color of flame. She was surrounded by her Tavgharad, some of them with hair as gray as hers, and by Grisha in their gem-colored kefta.

“Grandmother?” Makhi said, blinking as if she might clear the image from her eyes. “But you were at your palace.”

“I am not quite the fool you think I am,” Princess Ehri said gently. “I never would have left our grandmother at the Palace of the Thousand Stars. I know you too well for that. As soon as Tamar’s scouts saw you had called for the khergud, we sent word to our grandmother’s hiding place.”

Mayu remembered the two riders dressed as peasants. To the queen, Tamar had said. Mayu had assumed she meant Makhi.

Leyti gave a nod of confirmation. “I thank you for the use of your airship, Tamar Kir-Bataar.”

“It is Ravka’s honor,” Tamar said with a bow.

Makhi tried to straighten her gown. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“I understand quite well,” said Queen Leyti. “I assert my right as Taban queen and rescind my blessing. The crown is yours no longer.”

30

NINA

GELIDBEL WAS THE CROWNING EVENT of Heartwood, the last formal ball before proposals were issued.

Brum had been as good as his word and had secured new fabrics for Mila Jandersdat’s gowns. Most had been modest and understated. But the ball gown Nina wore tonight was all sparkling silver; dagger-shaped beads like icicles shifted with her every move. Her figure wasn’t suited to the long, high-waisted styles popular in Fjerda, but the dress was beautiful.

I’d rather be in a kefta, Nina thought as she looked in the mirror. Her country was on the brink of war and she was stuffed into a ball gown and velvet slippers.

“You look like a winter morning,” said Hanne, who came to stand beside her.

“And you look like dragon’s gold.”

Hanne’s gown bordered on the scandalous, sheer panels of amber silk alternating with tiny beads that glistened like droplets of molten gold. It was impossible to tell what was fabric and what was skin. Ylva’s dressmakers had outdone themselves.

But Hanne kept her eyes on Nina, avoiding her own reflection. “I’ll take your word for it.” She smoothed the folds of her gown, then curled her fingertips, as if the feeling of the silk over her skin displeased her.

“Hanne, what’s wrong? You look like magic.”

“It isn’t … that isn’t me.” Hanne closed her eyes and shook her head. “Do you know the one thing I miss about the convent?”

“The Wellmother’s warm and loving disposition?”

A smile quirked Hanne’s lips, and Nina felt a rush of relief. She could feel the pain radiating from her and she didn’t