Rule of Wolves (King of Scars #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,146

king. Nikolai could only hope that the soldiers who did try to spread the story of this night wouldn’t be believed and that those who stayed in his service would find a way to have faith in him again.

Jesper and Wylan were waiting for the Cormorant on the cliffs, looking dirty but otherwise unscathed. The Suli were nowhere to be seen, but Nikolai suspected they were nearby, watching.

When Kaz was preparing to descend to the cliffs, Nikolai and Zoya joined him at the wind-buffeted bay doors.

Nikolai handed him a metal box. “For the Wraith,” he said.

Kaz took it, tucking it under one arm. “An infernal gadget to contend with your other infernal gadgets.”

“I have a gift for order and a taste for chaos.”

Kaz raised a brow. “The man with the monster inside.”

“I see the wheels turning in your head, Mister Brekker, wondering what you might do with this information. I would ask, one liar to another, that you keep it to yourself.”

“I find secrets are the most reliable stocks. The longer they’re kept, the more their value rises.”

“We could shove him out of the airship now,” suggested Zoya.

“We could, but we’re not going to.”

“Why is that?”

“Because Mister Brekker has the best insurance of all. He’s proven himself useful.”

“Speaking of secrets,” said Kaz, taking hold of the cable. “I’ve had word from the Kerch colonies. A certain monarch and his wife are no longer in exile.”

“By whose order?” Nikolai said, tension snapping through him.

“Jarl Brum and the Fjerdan government. This is the problem with letting your enemies live.”

“They’re my parents.”

“Your point?” Kaz settled his cane more firmly in his grip and nodded to the cable operator, ready to descend. “A word of advice, from one bastard to another: Sometimes it’s best to let the demon have its day.”

The cable dropped and Kaz Brekker was gone.

* * *

Nikolai had meant to try to rest, but instead he found himself in the darkened cargo hold. He lay down on the cold floor beside one of the stacks of stolen titanium, now secured with cables and tarps. It was quiet here, empty, the only sound the heavy thrum of the airship’s engines. It was almost enough to lull him to sleep.

At some point, he heard a flyer being guided into the neighboring landing bay. He knew it was the messenger they’d been set to rendezvous with over the True Sea. He heard raised voices, running footsteps. The news couldn’t be good. Another city bombed? The Fjerdans already marching?

He wanted to be back at the Kerch base, racing against discovery, listening to the crackle of the storm. Better that than grappling with the actuality of a war he’d failed to prevent. The Cormorant would proceed directly to Lazlayon, where hopefully, Nadia and the rest of the Fabrikators would be able to use their meager supply of stolen titanium to give Ravka an edge in the battles to come. As for the Volkvolny, his beautiful Wolf of the Waves would sit in the Ketterdam harbor for another two days to be inspected by any nosy members of the Merchant Council. Privyet would greet them as Sturmhond, wearing the splendid frock coat that Nikolai had already sent back to the ship. He’d been sorry to let it go. The coat was the open sea, the dream of another life he might have lived. Could you do it? Zoya had asked. Give up the throne? He’d fought so hard for so long, but some wayward voice inside him said, Yes. Like the demon, he hungered for freedom. And yet he knew he could never forsake Ravka the way his father had, ceding his duty to his own desires. His messy, exasperating country might demand everything, might punish those who loved it for their devotion, but he wouldn’t turn his back on his people.

Nikolai heard the door open, scented wildflowers somewhere in the cargo hold.

“Are you hiding?” Zoya asked as she shut the door behind her.

“I’m skulking. It’s much more purposeful.” He patted the floor next to him. “Join me?”

He expected her to roll her eyes and tell him to get off his ass. Instead she lay down beside him, her shoulder almost touching his own. All Saints, Nikolai thought. I’m lying next to Zoya Nazyalensky. Somewhere Count Kirigin was crying into his soup. They stared up at the shadowy roof of the hold, at nothing at all.

“Did you sleep?” she asked.

“Of course not. Someday we’ll see an end to war, and then you and I will take a