Ruin and Rising (The Grisha Trilogy) Read online

  “Headed the wrong way,” said Nikolai. “You’re going to miss it.”

  “Be up in a minute,” Mal replied. His voice sounded so normal, so pleasant, I almost believed I’d imagined that smile.

  Still, it took everything in me to keep climbing those stairs, to keep my hand on Nikolai’s arm. Despise your heart, I told myself. Do what needs to be done.

  When we reached the top of the stairs and entered the Spinning Wheel, my jaw dropped. The lanterns had been extinguished so that the room was dark, but all around us, stars were falling. The windows were lit with streaks of light cascading over the mountaintop, like bright fish in a river.

  “Meteor shower,” said Nikolai as he led me carefully through the room. People had laid blankets and pillows on the heated floor and were sitting in clusters or lying on their backs, watching the night sky.

  All at once, the pain in my chest was so bad it nearly bent me double. Because this was what Mal had been coming to show me. Because that look—that open, eager, happy look—had been for me. Because I would always be the first person he turned to when he saw something lovely, and I would do the same. Whether I was a Saint or a queen or the most powerful Grisha who ever lived, I would always turn to him.

  “Beautiful,” I managed.

  “I told you I had a lot of money.”

  “So you arrange celestial events now?”

  “As a sideline.”

  We stood at the center of the room, gazing up at the glass dome.

  “I could promise to make you forget him,” Nikolai offered.

  “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  “You do realize you’re playing havoc with my pride.”

  “Your confidence seems perfectly intact.”

  “Think about it,” he said, leading me through the crowd to a quiet nook near the western terrace. “I’m used to being the center of attention wherever I go. I’ve been told I could charm the shoes off a racehorse midstride, and yet you seem impervious.”

  I laughed. “You know damn well I like you, Nikolai.”

  “Such a tepid sentiment.”

  “I don’t hear you making declarations of love.”

  “Would they help?”

  “No.”

  “Flattery? Flowers? A hundred head of cattle?”

  I gave him a shove. “No.”

  Even now I knew that bringing me up here was less a romantic gesture than it was a display. The mess hall was deserted, and we had this little pocket of the Spinning Wheel to ourselves, but he’d made sure we’d taken the long way through the crowd. He’d wanted us to be seen together: the future King and Queen of Ravka.

  Nikolai cleared his throat. “Alina, on the very slim chance that we survive the next few weeks, I’m going to ask you to be my wife.”

  My mouth went dry. I’d known this was where we were headed, but it was still strange to hear him say those words.

  “Even if Mal wants to stay on,” Nikolai continued, “I’m going to have him reassigned.”

  Say goodnight. Tell me to leave, Alina.

  “I understand,” I said quietly.

  “Do you? I know I said that we could have a marriage in name only, but if we … if we had a child, I wouldn’t want him to have to endure the rumors and the jokes.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “One royal bastard is enough.”

  Children. With Nikolai.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was talking to him or myself. “I could lead the Second Army, and you could have pretty much any girl you want.”

  “A Shu princess? A Kerch banker’s daughter?”

  “Or a Ravkan heiress or a Grisha like Zoya.”

  “Zoya? I make it a policy never to seduce anyone prettier than I am.”

  I laughed. “I think that was an insult.”

  “Alina, this is the alliance I want: the First and Second Armies brought together. As for the rest, I’ve always known that whatever marriage I made would be political. It would be about power, not love. But we might get lucky. In time, we might have both.”

  “Or the third amplifier will turn me into a power-mad dictator and you’ll have to kill me.”

  “Yes, that would make for an awkward honeymoon.” He took my hand, circling my bare wrist with his fingers. I tensed, and realized I was waiting for the rush of surety that came with the Darkling’s touch, or a jolt like the one I’d felt that night at the Little Palace when Mal and I had argued by the banya. Nothing happened. Nikolai’s skin was warm, his grip gentle. I’d wondered if I would ever feel something so simple again or if the power in me would just keep jumping and crackling, seeking connection the way lightning seeks high ground.

  “Collar,” Nikolai said. “Fetters. I won’t have to spend much on jewelry.”

  “I have expensive taste in tiaras.”

  “But only one head.”

  “Thus far.” I glanced down at my wrist. “I should warn you, based on the conversation I had today with Baghra, if things do go wrong with the amplifiers, getting rid of me may require more than your usual firepower.”

  “Like what?”

  “Possibly another Sun Summoner.” It’s simple enough. Like calls to like.

  “I’m sure there’s a spare around somewhere.”

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  “See?” he said. “If we’re not dead in a month, we might be very happy together.”

  “Stop that,” I said, still grinning.

  “What?”

  “Saying the right thing.”

  “I’ll try to wean myself of the habit.” His smile faltered. He reached out and brushed the hair back from my face. I froze. He rested his hand in the space where the collar met the curve of my neck, and when I didn’t bolt, he slid his palm up to cup my cheek.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted this. “You said … you said you wouldn’t kiss me until—”

  “Until you were thinking of me instead of trying to forget him?” He moved closer, the light from the meteor shower playing over his features. He leaned in, giving me time to pull away. I could feel his breath when he said, “I love it when you quote me.”

  He brushed his lips over mine once, briefly, then again. It was less a kiss than the promise of one.

  “When you’re ready,” he said. Then he tucked my hand in his and we stood together, watching the spill of stars streaking the sky.

  We might be happy in time. People fell in love every day. Genya and David. Tamar and Nadia. But were they happy? Would they stay that way? Maybe love was superstition, a prayer we said to keep the truth of loneliness at bay. I tilted my head back. The stars looked like they were close together, when really they were millions of miles apart. In the end, maybe love just meant longing for something impossibly bright and forever out of reach.

  CHAPTER

  11

  THE NEXT MORNING, I found Nikolai on the eastern terrace taking weather readings. Mal’s team was set to depart within the hour and was only waiting for the all clear. I pulled up my hood. It wasn’t quite snowing, but a few flakes had settled on my cheeks and hair.

  “How does everything look?” I asked, handing Nikolai a glass of tea.

  “Not bad,” he replied. “Gusts are mild, and the pressure’s holding steady. They may have it rough through the mountains, but it shouldn’t be anything the Bittern can’t handle.”

  I heard the door open behind me, and Mal and Tamar stepped out onto the terrace. They were dressed in peasant clothes, fur hats, and sturdy wool coats.

  “Are we a go?” Tamar asked. She was trying to seem calm, but I could hear the barely leashed excitement in her voice. Behind her, I saw Nadia with her face pressed against the glass, awaiting the verdict.

  Nikolai nodded. “You’re a go.”

  Tamar’s grin was blinding. She managed a restrained bow, then turned to Nadia and gave her the signal. Nadia whooped and broke into something between a seizure and a dance.

  Nikolai laughed. “If only she’d show
a little enthusiasm.”

  “Be safe,” I said as I embraced Tamar.

  “Take care of Tolya for me,” she replied. Then she whispered, “We left the cobalt lace in your trunk. Wear that tonight.”

  I rolled my eyes and gave her a shove. I knew I would see them all in a week, but I was surprised at how much I was going to miss them.

  There was an awkward pause as I faced Mal. His blue eyes were vibrant in the gray morning light. The scar at my shoulder twinged.

  “Safe journey, moi soverenyi.” He bowed.

  I knew what was expected, but I hugged him anyway. For a moment, he just stood there, then his arms closed hard around me. “Safe journey, Alina,” he whispered into my hair, and quickly stepped back.

  “We’ll be on our way as soon as the Kingfisher returns. I expect to see you all safe and whole in one week’s time,” Nikolai said, “and packing some all-powerful bird bones.”

  Mal bowed. “Saints’ speed, moi tsarevich.”

  Nikolai offered his hand and they shook. “Good luck, Oretsev. Find the firebird, and when this is over, I’ll see you well rewarded. A farmhouse in Udova. A dacha near the city. Whatever you want.”

  “I don’t need any of that. Just…” He dropped Nikolai’s hand and looked away. “Deserve her.”

  He hastened back into the Spinning Wheel with Tamar behind him. Through the glass I saw them talking to Nadia and Harshaw.

  “Well,” said Nikolai, “at least he’s learned to make an exit.”

  I ignored the ache in my throat and said, “How long will it take us to reach Ketterdam?”

  “Two to three days, depending on the weather and our Squallers. We’ll go north, then over the True Sea. It’s safer than traveling over Ravka.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Ketterdam? It’s—”

  He never finished his sentence. A shadowed blur cut across my vision, and Nikolai was gone. I stood staring at the place where he’d been, then screamed as I felt claws close over my shoulders and my feet lifted from the floor.

  I glimpsed Mal bursting through the door to the terrace, Tamar on his heels. He lunged across the distance and seized me around the waist, yanking me back down. I twisted, arms moving in an arc, sending a blaze of light burning through the nichevo’ya that had hold of me. It wavered and exploded into nothing. I fell to the terrace in a heap, toppling with Mal, bleeding from where the monster’s talons had pierced my skin.

  I was on my feet in seconds, horrified by what I saw. The air was full of darting black shapes, winged monsters that moved unlike any natural creature. Behind me, I heard chaos erupting in the hall, the smash of breaking glass as nichevo’ya hurled themselves against the windows.

  “Get the others out,” I yelled to Tamar. “Get them away from here.”

  “We can’t leave you—”

  “I won’t lose them too!”

  “Go!” Mal bellowed at her. He shouldered his rifle, taking aim at the attacking monsters. I lashed out with the Cut, but they were moving so quickly that I couldn’t target them. I craned my neck, searching the sky for Nikolai. My heart was pounding. Where was the Darkling? If his monsters were here, then he must be nearby.

  He came from above. His creatures moved around him like a living cloak, their wings beating the air in a rippling black wave, forming and re-forming, bearing him aloft, their bodies slipping apart and together, absorbing the bullets from Mal’s gun.

  “Saints,” Mal swore. “How did he find us?”

  The answer came quickly. I saw a red shape suspended between two nichevo’ya, their black claws sunk deeply into their captive’s body. Sergei’s face was chalky, his eyes wide and terrified, his lips moving in a silent prayer.

  “Shall I spare him, Alina?” said the Darkling.

  “Leave him alone!”

  “He betrayed you to the first oprichnik he could find. I wonder, will you offer him mercy or justice?”

  “I don’t want him harmed,” I shouted.

  My mind was reeling. Had Sergei really betrayed us? He’d been on edge since the battle at the Little Palace, but what if he’d been planning this all along? Maybe he’d just been trying to slip away during our fight with the militia, maybe he’d let Genya’s name drop deliberately. He’d been so ready to leave the Spinning Wheel.

  That was when I realized what Sergei was muttering—not prayers, just one word over and over again: Safe. Safe. Safe.

  “Give him to me,” I said.

  “He betrayed me first, Alina. He remained in Os Alta when he should have come to my side. He sat on your council, plotted against me. He told me everything.”

  Thank the Saints we’d kept the location of the firebird a secret.

  “So,” said the Darkling, “the decision is mine. And I’m afraid that I choose justice.”

  In one movement, the nichevo’ya ripped Sergei’s limbs from his body and severed his head from his neck. I had the briefest glimpse of the shock on his face, his mouth open in a silent scream, then the pieces disappeared beneath the cloud bank.

  “All Saints,” Mal swore.

  I gagged, but I had to shove down my terror. Mal and I turned in a slow circle, back to back. We were surrounded by nichevo’ya. Behind me, I could hear the sounds of screams and glass shattering in the Spinning Wheel.

  “Here we are again, Alina. Your army against mine. Do you think your soldiers will fare any better this time?”

  I ignored him and shouted into the misty grayness. “Nikolai!”

  “Ah, the pirate prince. I have regretted many of the things I’ve had to do in this war,” said the Darkling. “This is not one of them.”

  A shadow soldier swooped down. In horror, I saw it held Nikolai struggling in its arms. Any bit of courage I had evaporated. I couldn’t see Nikolai ripped limb from limb.

  “Please!” The word tore from me, without dignity or constraint. “Please don’t!”

  The Darkling raised his hand.

  I clapped my fingers over my mouth, my legs already buckling.

  But the nichevo’ya didn’t attack Nikolai. It tossed him onto the terrace. His body hit the stone with a sickening thud and rolled to a stop.

  “Alina, don’t!” Mal tried to hold me back, but I broke free of him and ran to where Nikolai lay, falling to my knees beside him. He moaned. His coat was torn where the creature’s claws had shredded the fabric. He tried to push himself up on his elbows and blood dribbled from his mouth.

  “This was unexpected,” he said weakly.

  “You’re okay,” I said. “It’s okay.”

  “I appreciate your optimism.”

  I caught movement from the corner of my eye and saw two blots of shadow slip free of the Darkling’s hands. They slithered over the lip of the balcony, undulating like serpents, heading directly toward us. I raised my hands and slashed out with the Cut, obliterating one side of the terrace, but I was too slow. The shadows slithered lightning fast across the stone and darted into Nikolai’s mouth.

  His eyes widened. His breath hitched in surprise, drawing whatever the Darkling had released into his lungs. We stared at each other in shock.

  “What—what was that?” he choked.

  “I—”

  He coughed, shuddered. Then his fingers flew to his chest, tearing open the remains of his shirt. We both looked down, and I saw shadow spreading beneath his skin in fragile black lines, splintering like veins in marble.

  “No,” I groaned. “No. No.”

  The cracks traveled across his stomach, down his arms.

  “Alina?” he said helplessly. The darkness fractured beneath his skin, climbing his throat. He threw his head back and screamed, the tendons flexing in his neck as his whole body contorted, his back bowing. He shoved up to his knees, chest heaving. I reached for him as he convulsed.

  He released another raw scream, and two black shards burst from his back. They unfurled. Like wings.

  His head shot up. He looked at me, face beaded in sweat, gaze panicked and de
sperate. “Alina—”

  Then his eyes—his clever, hazel eyes—went black.

  “Nikolai?” I whispered.

  His lips curled back, revealing teeth of black onyx. They had formed fangs.

  He snarled. I stumbled backward. His jaws snapped closed a bare inch from me.

  “Hungry?” the Darkling asked. “I wonder which one of your friends you’ll eat first.”

  I raised my hands, reluctant to use my power. I didn’t want to hurt him. “Nikolai,” I begged. “Don’t do this. Stay with me.”

  His face spasmed in pain. He was in there, fighting himself, battling the appetite that had taken hold of him. His hands flexed—no, his claws. He howled, and the noise that came from him was desperate, shrieking, completely inhuman.

  His wings beat the air as he rose from the terrace, monstrous, but still beautiful, still somehow Nikolai. He looked down at the dark veins coursing over his torso, at the razor-sharp talons that had pushed from his blackened fingertips. He held out his hands as if pleading with me for an answer.

  “Nikolai,” I cried.

  He turned in the air, wrenching himself away, and raced upward, as if he could somehow outpace the need inside him, his black wings carrying him higher as he cut through the nichevo’ya. He looked back once, and even from a distance, I felt his anguish and confusion.

  Then he was gone, a black speck in the gray sky, while I remained trembling below.

  “Eventually,” said the Darkling, “he will feed.”

  I’d warned Nikolai of the Darkling’s vengeance, but even I couldn’t have foreseen the elegance of this, the perfect cruelty. Nikolai had made a fool of the Darkling, and now the Darkling had taken my polished, brilliant, noble prince and made him into a monster. Death would have been too kind.

  A sound came from me, something guttural, animal, a noise I didn’t recognize. I raised my hands and brought the Cut blazing down in two furious arcs. They struck the whirring shapes that surrounded the Darkling and I saw some burst apart into nothing, only to have others take their place. I didn’t care. I struck him again and again. If I could knock the top off a mountain, surely my power was good for something in this battle.