one. I’ve seen the results myself. The girls under my care share stories of the Saints by moonlight.”
“And they’re punished for it?”
“Oh yes,” she said with a laugh. “The more we forbid talk of the Saints, the more fervent and determined they become.”
“Then I’m not in trouble?” She’d been following no order when she’d come to the Ice Court with Hanne and started staging miracles. After the stunt she’d pulled in Gäfvalle, she could have been dragged back to Ravka and court-martialed.
“General Nazyalensky said you would ask that and she said you absolutely are.”
Nina had to restrain a laugh. “How is she?”
“Terrifyingly competent.”
“And Adrik? Leoni?”
“Now that they’re Saints, they’re not fit for espionage work, but Adrik is commanding a team of Squallers and Leoni is working with David Kostyk’s Fabrikators. She did essential work on the antidote to jurda parem.”
“So,” said Nina, “they’re both stationed at the Little Palace.”
A slight smile touched the Wellmother’s lips. “I hear they’re often in each other’s company. But I didn’t come to share gossip or offer comfort. The king has a mission for you.”
Nina felt a spike of exhilaration. She’d defied direct orders from Adrik to come to the Ice Court, to put herself in the position to help Grisha and help Ravka. She’d done what she could with her phony miracles; she’d eavesdropped and used every wile in her possession to gather information, passing along coded letters full of whatever she’d managed to glean about troop movements and weapons development. But Brum’s disclosure of the places Fjerda had intended to launch their invasion had been mere luck, not true spy work.
“Listen closely,” the Wellmother said. “We don’t have much time.”
* * *
“She wants you to do what?” Hanne whispered, her copper eyes wide, when she returned to the rooms they shared and Nina described her mission. “And who did I just give my confession to?”
“A Grisha spy. What did you tell her?”
“I made up something about too many sweets and swearing on Djel’s holy days.”
Nina laughed. “Perfect.”
“Not perfect,” Hanne said with a wince. “What if I’d told her something personal about … something.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing,” said Hanne, her cheeks flushing. “What does she want you to do?”
The Wellmother’s orders had been simple, but Nina had no idea how she was going to pull them off.
“Find out where the letters from Tatiana Lantsov are being kept.”
“That part isn’t so bad.”
“And get close to the Lantsov pretender,” Nina said. “Discover who he really is and if there’s a way to discredit him.”
Hanne bit her lip. They’d settled on her bed with hot tea and a tin of biscuits. “Couldn’t we just … well, couldn’t you just eliminate him?”
Nina laughed. “Easy now. I’m the ruthless assassin and you’re the voice of reason, remember?”
“I think I’m being eminently reasonable. Is the Ravkan king really a bastard?”
“I don’t know,” Nina said slowly. “But if the Fjerdans prove he is, I’m not certain he’ll be able to keep the Ravkan throne.” In times of trouble, people tended to cling to tradition and superstition. Grisha cared less about royal blood, but even Nina had been raised to believe the Lantsovs had been divinely chosen to lead Ravka.
“And Vadik Demidov?” Hanne asked. “The pretender?”
“His death won’t buy back Nikolai’s legitimacy. But if he’s shown to be a liar, it will cast doubt on the entire endeavor and everything the Fjerdan government has claimed. Only … how are we supposed to do that?”
Brum had close contact with Fjerda’s royal family and presumably Demidov, but Nina and Hanne had only ever seen them from afar. The Brums dined occasionally with high-ranking soldiers and military officials, and Ylva sometimes went to play cards with the aristocratic women of the court. But that was a far cry from meeting people who could be mined for information on the Lantsov pretender.
Hanne stood and slowly paced the room. Nina loved who Hanne became when they were alone together. Around her parents, there was a tension in her, a hesitation, as if she was second-guessing every movement, every word. But when the door was closed and it was just the two of them, Hanne became the girl Nina had met in the woods, her gait loose and long, her shoulders freed from their rigid posture. Now Hanne’s even white teeth worried her lower lip, and Nina found herself studying the movement like a piece of fine art.
Then Hanne seemed to reach some kind of decision. She strode to the door and opened it.
“What are you doing?” Nina asked.
“I have