on her lips. This was her first opportunity to insult his country.
“The celestial throne of the Shu and wearer of the Taban crown greets you. We are most grateful for your hospitality.” At least they were beginning well.
Nikolai offered her his arm. “It would be my honor to escort you to the royal chapel. Or perhaps your party would like a chance to rest themselves and have some refreshment?”
The queen glanced at her ministers, who remained stone-faced. She gave a brief sigh and slid her hand into the crook of Nikolai’s elbow. “Best this distasteful business was done quickly.”
Nikolai led her down the path, and in a great wave of velvet, silk, and sparkling gems, their party processed toward the royal chapel, which lay almost exactly halfway between the Grand Palace and the Little Palace.
“The chapel is said to have been built on the site of Ravka’s first altar,” said Nikolai. “Where the first Lantsov king was crowned.”
“Fascinating,” she said, then added beneath her breath, “Are these niceties strictly necessary?”
“No, but I find they help ease the way when meeting with a woman who tried to engineer my death and the overthrow of my rule.”
Makhi’s hand tensed slightly against his arm. “Where is my sister? I would speak to her before the ceremony.”
No doubt, but there would be none of that. Nikolai ignored her.
The chapel had been carefully restored after the Darkling’s attack, and Fabrikator craft had ensured that its dark beams and golden dome had been made even lovelier than what had come before. The whole place smelled of wood polish and sweet incense. Its pews were packed with guests in their finest: Ravkan nobility in fashionably cut coats and gowns, Grisha in their jewel-hued kefta.
“Who will perform this travesty of a ceremony?” Makhi asked, peering down the aisle at the gilded altarpiece of thirteen Saints. “I hear your priest is occupied elsewhere. To imagine my sister will marry a bastard.”
It seemed Makhi’s supply of civility was expended. “I didn’t think the Taban queens gave much care to whether a child was born out of wedlock.”
Makhi’s brown eyes flashed. “Did you read that in a book? Marriage is a pretense. But bloodline is everything.”
“Thank you for explaining the distinction. Vladim Ozwal will perform the ceremony.”
The young priest already stood at the altar, wearing a long brown cassock emblazoned with a golden sun. He was one of the Soldat Sol who had abandoned their service to the Apparat to follow Alina Starkov. He had fought beside the Sun Saint on the Fold and had received her powers, and if Zoya’s story was true, he bore the handprint of the Sun Summoner as a brand upon his chest. When the Apparat had slithered off to Fjerda, Ravka’s priests had scrambled to appoint a new head of the church who would serve as spiritual counselor to the king. There had been older, more experienced candidates, many of whom were little more than the Apparat’s cronies. But in the end, the new guard had won out and Ozwal had been chosen. Apparently, it was hard to argue with a man who bore the fingerprints of the Sun Summoner seared into his own flesh.
“I can barely see,” said Queen Makhi. “We should be at the front of the chapel.”
“Not just yet,” said Nikolai. “Ravkan tradition.”
Adrik and Nadia rose and faced the guests, side by side in their blue kefta, their cuffs embroidered in Squaller silver, Adrik’s bronze arm polished to a high shine. They began to sing in close harmony. It was an old Ravkan folk song about the first firebird and the sorcerer who had tried to capture her.
David and Genya had already begun their slow walk down the aisle. Genya had chosen an extraordinarily long train.
“Who are these people?” Makhi asked. “Where is my sister?”
“They are two members of the Grisha Triumvirate, David Kostyk and Genya Safin.”
“I know who they are. What are they doing here? I will march to the front of this chapel and stop this whole proceeding if—”
Nikolai rested a hand on Makhi’s silk sleeve, then removed it at her glare.
“Do not think to lay a hand on this, the most holy body of Queen Makhi Kir-Taban.”
“My apologies. Truly. But I do think it would be best not to make a scene.”
“Do you think I care about creating a spectacle?”
“No, but you should. I don’t think you want all these people to know where your sister is.”
Makhi tilted her head back, looking down her nose at Nikolai. He felt