Rule of Wolves (King of Scars #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,59

would only cloud his judgment, slow him down, keep him from making the difficult choices he would need to make in the days to come. It wasn’t useful, but he couldn’t shrug it off like some kind of mood. Isaak had trusted him, and that trust had gotten him killed.

Too quickly, he saw the glittering rooftops of the Gilded Bog, Count Kirigin’s estate and pleasure gardens, the secret home of Ravka’s weapons development base. He cut his engines and let the Sparrowhawk glide gently down through the cloud cover, the rumble of the flyer replaced by the rush of the air, the heavy silence of the sky. He thought he heard a low whistle from somewhere below. His mind understood what it was a bare second too late.

Boom.

Something struck the Sparrowhawk’s right wing. It caught fire instantly, smoke billowing from the little craft.

All Saints. He’d been fired upon.

No, that wasn’t quite right. David and his team thought he was arriving on horseback, and they were in the middle of weapons testing. Nikolai had essentially flown his plane into a missile. He really was a fool. Glad I got to see the rockets working before I die in a fiery blaze.

Nikolai strummed the engine to life again, trying to right the little flyer, but he was already going into a spin, hurtling toward the ground at terrifying speed.

The demon tore at his mind, wild and thrashing within him, screaming to be free.

But Nikolai would not give up control. If this is the end, then you die with me. Maybe this was the way he would liberate his country from the Fold. Zoya would be free to kill the Darkling after all.

Think.

Nikolai had lost track of where the ground was. The noise from the engine rattled his skull. The controls in his hands were useless. This is it, he thought, desperately trying to pull back on the throttle.

The demon shrieked, but Nikolai would not release it. I will die a king.

He was yanked backward against the seat. His stomach lurched. It felt as if a huge hand had seized the flyer and thrust it upward.

A moment later the craft was gently set upon the mist-shrouded waters of the Gilded Bog. Nikolai heard shouting, and then he was being pulled from the cockpit.

“I’m fine,” he said. Though he had cracked his skull against the seat at some point. He touched the back of his head. He was bleeding. And there was a very good chance he might vomit. “I’m fine.”

“David,” said Genya. “You almost killed the king.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there!”

“It was my fault,” said Nikolai. He took a woozy step on the dock, then another, trying to get his bearings. “I’m fine,” he repeated. Nadia and Adrik must have summoned wind to stop his descent. David, Genya, and Leoni were staring at him, along with a group of First Army engineers. A weapons test, just as he’d thought. He only wished he’d thought it sooner rather than later. “It was good practice,” he said, trying to ignore the throbbing in his skull. “In case I’m ever shot down.”

“If you’re ever shot down, there won’t be Squallers there to save you,” Adrik said. “Why didn’t you eject?”

“He wasn’t wearing a parachute,” Genya said, glowering at him.

“I didn’t think I would need one,” Nikolai protested. “This wasn’t supposed to be a dogfight. More importantly, does this mean the rockets work?”

“Absolutely not,” said David.

“Sort of,” said Leoni.

“Show me,” said Nikolai.

Genya planted her hands on her hips. “You will sit yourself down and let me make sure you don’t have a concussion. Then you will have a cup of tea. And then, if I’m feeling generous, you can talk to David about things that explode.”

“You do realize I’m the king?”

“Do you?”

Nikolai looked to David for help, but David just shrugged. “I don’t argue with my wife when she’s right.”

“Oh, fine,” said Nikolai. “But I want a cookie with my tea.”

They descended to the laboratories in the clanking brass elevator. The dark rooms and narrow hallways didn’t make for the most healing atmosphere, but they did guarantee privacy. He was grateful for a few minutes to gather his thoughts. He’d been fired at plenty of times, shot more than once, turned into a shadow creature, and stabbed with a letter opener by an otherwise lovely young lady who had been insulted by his attempt at a romantic sonnet. But really, how many things rhymed with “tremulous nests”? He was also fairly sure his older brother had