the weather. A drop in temperature, the crackle of electricity in the air, the feeling of a storm coming on. The wind lifted her black hair, the blue silk of her kefta whipping around her frame.
“Your heart is in your eyes, Your Highness,” murmured Tamar, wiping the sweat from her brow.
Tolya poked his twin in the arm with a sparring sword. “Tamar knows because that’s the way she looks at her wife.”
“I am free to look at my wife any which way I please.”
“But Zoya is not Nikolai’s wife.”
“I’m standing right here,” said Nikolai. “And there is nothing in my eyes except the never-ending dust you two kick up.”
He was glad to see his general. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that. Her presence brought a perfectly understandable relief, a feeling of calm that came with knowing that whatever the problem was, they would best it, that if one of them faltered, the other would be there to drag them along. That comfort was not something he could afford to get used to or rely on, but he would enjoy it while he might. If only she weren’t wearing that damned blue ribbon again.
“I hear someone tried to kill you,” Tamar called as Zoya drew near.
“Neither the first nor the last,” Zoya said. “One of the assassins is still alive. I’ve had him sent along to Os Alta for questioning.”
“He’s one of the Apparat’s?”
“That’s my guess. I hear we won.”
“I’d call it a draw,” said Tolya.
Nikolai signaled for another horse to be brought around. He knew the mare Zoya preferred, a swift-hooved creature named Serebrine. “The Fjerdans are not currently marching toward our capital,” he said. “I’ll call it a victory.”
“Then enjoy it,” Tolya said, climbing atop his huge gelding.
“People only say that when they know it won’t last.”
“Of course it won’t last,” said Zoya. “What does?”
“True love?” suggested Tamar.
“Great art?” said Tolya.
“A proper grudge,” replied Zoya.
“We’ve bought time,” admitted Nikolai. “Not peace.” They had to neutralize Queen Makhi before Fjerda chose to act again. And Fjerda would, Nikolai had no doubt of that.
When Zoya had mounted, they joined their armed escort and rode out of the gates. For a while, they took to the roads in silence, not speaking, only the sound of the wind and their horses’ hooves to keep them company. They slowed when they reached a creek to let their mounts drink and stretch their legs. Then it was back onto the road at a trot. They were all eager to reach the capital.
“We have an advantage and we should press it,” said Zoya when she couldn’t contain herself anymore. Nikolai had known this was coming. “Fjerda didn’t expect us to push back so hard. We should keep up the pressure while their forces are scrambling.”
“Are you so eager to see good men die?”
“If it will save the children of those men and countless others, I’ll lead the charge.”
“Give me a chance to build this peace,” said Nikolai. “I have a gift for folly—let me indulge it. We have daily sorties flying along the border and we’ve bolstered our forces there. This invasion was meant to be the tip of the arrow for Fjerda. Now that arrow is broken and they’ll have to rethink their approach.”
Fjerda had two great advantages: the size of their army and the speed at which they were able to turn out tanks. Nikolai could admit the tanks were well built too. They had a bad tendency to explode due to the fuel they used, but they were sturdier and faster than those his engineers had managed, even with Grisha Fabrikators in the lab.
“David’s mines will only buy us so much time,” said Tamar. “Once they’ve figured out how to track the metals, they’ll be sweeping the border.”
“It’s a long border,” noted Tolya.
“True,” said Nikolai. “And it has more gaps than my aunt Ludmilla’s teeth.”
Zoya shot him a dubious glance. “Did you actually have an aunt Ludmilla?”
“I did indeed. Hideous woman. Prone to stern lectures and handing out black licorice as a treat.” He shuddered. “May the Saints watch over her.”
“The point is we only have a short amount of time,” said Tolya.
Tamar clicked her tongue. “Hopefully enough time to forge this alliance with the Shu.”
Nikolai didn’t like to think of everything that might go wrong in the meantime. “Let us all pray to our Saints and the spirits of our bilious aunts.”
“If we could get more flyers in the air, none of it would matter,” said Tamar.
But like everything,