Rule of Wolves (King of Scars #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,60

tried to poison him when he was twelve. But this was the closest he’d ever come to dying. The demon was still writhing inside him. It had felt the nearness of death too, and it had been trapped, powerless as they plummeted toward the earth.

What would have happened if Nikolai had let the demon break free? Would it have helped him? Could he have controlled it? It was too steep a wager.

They settled around a table in one of the blueprint rooms as Genya tended to the back of Nikolai’s head and David brewed tea.

“Why is my lead scientist fussing with a kettle?” Nikolai asked.

“Because he doesn’t like the way anyone else makes it,” said Adrik, pulling a tin of chocolate biscuits from a drawer and setting it on the table.

“I wrote out instructions,” David said, brushing the messy brown hair from his eyes. He looked even paler in the dim light of the lab. As much as Nikolai appreciated David’s work ethic, the Fabrikator could use a holiday.

“My love,” Genya said gently. “It doesn’t take seventeen steps to brew tea.”

“It does if you do it properly.”

“Talk to me about my rockets,” said Nikolai.

Nadia set down a tray of mismatched cups and saucers, most of them chipped, though the pattern of golden hummingbirds was exquisite. Nikolai suspected they were the castoffs from Count Kirigin’s collection, victims of his often rowdy guests.

David and Nadia looked to Genya, who gave a gracious nod. “You may proceed.”

“Well,” said David, “a rocket can be very simple.”

“Like a cup of tea?” asked Leoni innocently.

“A bit,” said David, oblivious to the glint in her eye. “Any child can build one with a little sugar and some potassium nitrate.”

Genya cast Nikolai a suspicious glance. “Why do I think you did just that?”

“Of course I did. If one can, one ought to. You know the skylight in the western ballroom?”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t always there.”

“You put a hole in the ceiling?”

“A small one.”

“Those frescoes are hundreds of years old!” she cried.

“Sometimes one must break with tradition. Quite literally. Now would someone please distract Genya?”

Nadia sat up a bit straighter. “There are three challenges to a rocket. Launching it without blowing it up. Arming it without blowing it up. And aiming it without blowing it up.”

Nikolai nodded. “I detect a theme.”

“We seem to be able to manage two out of the three, but never all three at once,” said Leoni, her sunny smile bright against her brown skin. Somehow she still managed to make it seem like she was delivering good news.

If they could master the rockets, Nikolai knew it would change everything. Ravka and Fjerda were nearly evenly matched in the air. But Fjerda had what could be a decisive advantage on the ground. The rockets would allow Nikolai to keep Ravka’s troops well away from the front lines, and they’d have a real answer to the might of Fjerda’s tanks. It would become a game of range.

“Just how big can these rockets get?” asked Nikolai.

“Big enough to level an entire factory,” said David. “Or half a city block.”

The room was suddenly very quiet, the reality of what they were discussing settling around them, making the air feel thick with the consequences of what they would decide here. Give me a chance to show you what might be, Nikolai had told Zoya. He’d meant peace. He’d meant compromise. Not this.

“At what distance?” Nikolai asked.

“I don’t really know,” said David. “The issue is weight. Steel is too heavy. Aluminum may be too. They’re fine for testing, but if we’re serious about using these rockets, we need a lighter metal.”

“Like what?”

“Titanium is lighter but more durable,” said Leoni. “And it doesn’t degrade.”

“It’s also rarer,” said Nadia, tucking a loose strand of her blond hair back into a twist. “We don’t have much of a stockpile.”

“Are we seriously considering this?” Genya said softly.

“I’ll give you the rockets we’ve been working on,” said David. “But even if we can source more titanium, I won’t build them bigger.”

“May I ask why?” said Nikolai, though he thought he knew.

“I won’t make a city killer.”

“And if it’s the threat we need?”

“If we build one,” said David, “it won’t stop with us. It never does.”

David was one of the most talented Fabrikators and thinkers of his time, maybe of any time. But his gifts had always been turned to waging war. That was the nature of being Ravkan. It had been for hundreds of years.

And David was right. Only a short time ago, they’d all been fighting with