Siege and Storm (33 page)

The dishes tilted, and the beam descended. The crowd gasped in astonishment as the light slashed through the edge of the woods below, leveling the treetops.

The dishes tilted further. The beam seared into the lakeshore and then into the lake itself. A wave of steam billowed into the air with an audible hiss, and for a moment, the entire surface of the lake seemed to boil.

David gave a panicked blast on the whistle. Hastily, I dropped my hands, and the light vanished.

We ran to the edge of the roof and gaped at the sight before us.

It was as if someone had taken a razor and lopped off the top of the woods in a clean diagonal cut from the tip of the tree line to the shore. Where the beam had touched down, the ground was marked by a glowing trench that ran all the way to the waterline.

“It worked,” David said in a dazed voice. “It actually worked.”

There was a pause and then Zoya burst out laughing. Sergei joined her, then Marie and Nadia. Suddenly, we were all laughing and cheering, even moody Tolya, who swept a befuddled David up on his enormous shoulders. Soldiers were hugging Grisha, the King’s advisers were hugging the generals, Nikolai was dancing a begoggled Paja around the roof, and the captain of the guard caught me up in a giddy embrace.

We whooped and screamed and bounced up and down, so that the whole palace seemed to shake. When the Darkling decided to march, the
nichevo’ya
would have quite a surprise waiting for them.

“Let’s go see it!” someone shouted, and we raced down the stairs like children at the sound of the school bell, giggling and careening off the walls.

We charged through the Hall of the Golden Dome and flung open the doors, tumbling down the steps and outside. As everyone sprinted down to the lake, I skidded to a halt.

Mal was coming up the path from the wooded tunnel.

“Go on,” I said to Nikolai. “I’ll catch up.”

Mal watched the path as he approached, not meeting my gaze. As he drew closer, I saw that his eyes were bloodshot and there was an ugly bruise on his cheekbone.

“What happened?” I asked, lifting a hand toward his face. He ducked away, darting a glance at the servants who stood by the Little Palace doors.

“Ran into a bottle of
kvas
,” he said. “Is there something you need?”

“You missed the demonstration.”

“I wasn’t on duty.”

I ignored the painful jab in my chest and pushed on. “We’re going down to the lake. Would you like to come?”

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, then he shook his head. “I just came back to get some coin. There’s a card game going at the Grand Palace.”

The shard twisted. “You may want to change,” I said. “You look like you slept in your clothes.” I was instantly sorry I’d said it, but Mal didn’t seem to care.

“Maybe because I did,” he said. “Is there anything else?”

“No.”

“
Moi soverenyi
.” He executed a sharp bow and vaulted up the steps as if he couldn’t wait to be away from me.

I took my time walking down to the lake, hoping that somehow the ache in my heart would ease. My joy at the success on the roof had drained away, leaving me hollow, like a well someone could shout down and hear nothing back but echoes.

By the shore, a group of Grisha were walking the length of the trench, calling out measurements in growing triumph and elation. It was nearly two feet wide and just as deep, a furrow of charred earth that stretched to the water’s edge. In the woods, felled treetops lay in a clutter of branches and bark. I reached out and ran my hand over one of the severed trunks. The wood was smooth, sliced cleanly across, and still warm to the touch. Two small fires had started, but the Tidemakers had quickly put them out.

Nikolai ordered food and champagne brought down to the lake, and we all spent the rest of the evening on the shore. The generals and advisers retired early, but the captain and some of his guard remained. They stripped off their jackets and shoes and waded into the lake, and it wasn’t long before everyone decided they didn’t care about wet clothes and plunged into the water, splashing and dunking each other, then organizing swim races to the little island. To no one’s surprise, a Tidemaker always won, borne aloft by lucky waves.

Nikolai and his Squallers offered to take people up in the recently completed craft he’d dubbed the
Kingfisher.
At first they were wary, but after the first brave group came back flapping their arms and babbling about actually flying, everyone wanted a turn. I’d sworn my feet would never leave the ground again, but finally I gave in and joined them.

Maybe it was the champagne or just that I knew what to expect, but the
Kingfisher
seemed lighter and more graceful than the
Hummingbird.
Though I still gripped the cockpit with both hands, I felt my spirits lift as we rose smoothly into the air.

I gathered my courage and looked down. The rolling grounds of the Grand Palace stretched out below us, crosscut by white gravel paths. I saw the roof of the Grisha greenhouse, the perfect circle of the double eagle fountain, the golden glint of the palace gates. Then we were soaring over the mansions and long, straight boulevards of the upper town. The streets were full of people celebrating Belyanoch. I saw jugglers and stiltwalkers on Gersky Prospect, dancers twirling on a lit stage in one of the parks. Music floated up from the boats on the canal.

I wanted to stay up there forever, surrounded by the flood of wind, watching the tiny, perfect world beneath us. But eventually Nikolai turned the wheel and brought us back to the lake in a slow, descending arc.

The twilight deepened to a lush purple. The Inferni lit bonfires along the lakeshore, and somewhere in the dusk, someone tuned a balalaika. From the town below, I heard the whistle and clap of fireworks.

Nikolai and I sat at the end of the makeshift pier, our trousers rolled up, feet dangling over the side. The
Kingfisher
bobbed beside us, its white sails trimmed.

Nikolai kicked his foot through the water, sending up a little splash. “The dishes change everything,” he said. “If you can keep the
nichevo’ya
busy long enough, we’ll have time to find and target the Darkling.”

I flopped back on the dock, stretching my arms overhead and taking in the blooming violet of the night sky. When I turned my head, I could just make out the shape of the now-empty school building, its windows dark. I would have liked the students to see what the dishes could do, to give them that bit of hope. The prospect of a battle was still frightening, especially when I thought of all the lives that might be lost. But at least we weren’t just sitting on a hilltop waiting to die.

“We may actually have a fighting chance,” I said in amazement.

“Try not to let the excitement overwhelm you, but I have more good news.”

I groaned. I knew that tone of voice. “Don’t say it.”

“Vasily is back from Caryeva.”

“You could do the kind thing and drown me now.”

“And suffer alone? I think not.”

“Maybe for your birthday you can ask that he be fitted with a royal muzzle,” I suggested.

“But then we’d miss all his exciting stories about the summer auctions. You’re fascinated by the breeding superiority of the Ravkan racehorse, right?”

I let out a whimper. Mal was supposed to be on duty for Nikolai’s birthday dinner the following night. Maybe I could get Tolya or Tamar to take his place. Right now, I didn’t think I could handle watching him stand stone-faced at attention all night, especially not with Vasily yammering away.

“Be of good cheer,” said Nikolai. “Maybe he’ll propose again.”

I sat up. “How do you know about that?”

“If you recall, I did pretty much the same thing. I’m just surprised he hasn’t tried a second time.”

“Apparently I’m not easy to get alone.”

“I know,” said Nikolai. “Why do you think I walk you back from the Grand Palace after every meeting?”

“For my sparkling company?” I said sourly, annoyed by the twitch of disappointment I felt at his words. Nikolai was so good at making me forget that everything he did was calculated.

“That too,” he said. He lifted his foot out of the water and scrutinized his wiggling toes. “He’ll get around to it again, eventually.”

I sighed with exaggerated woe. “How does one say no to a prince?”

“You’ve managed it before,” Nikolai said, still contemplating his foot. “And are you so sure you want to?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Nikolai shifted uncomfortably. “Well, he is first in line for the throne, of pure royal stock, and all that.”

“I wouldn’t marry Vasily if he had a pet firebird named Ludmilla, and I couldn’t care less about his royal stock.” I peered at him. “You said the gossip about your bloodlines didn’t bother you.”

“I may not have been completely honest about that.”

“You? Less than truthful? I’m shocked, Nikolai. Shocked and horrified.”

He laughed. “I guess it’s easy to say it doesn’t matter when I’m away from court. But no one here seems to want to let me forget, especially my brother.” He shrugged. “It’s always been this way. There were rumors about me even before I was born. It’s why my mother never calls me Sobachka. She says it makes me sound like a mongrel.”

My heart gave a little pang at that. I’d been called plenty of names growing up.

“I like mongrels,” I said. “They have cute floppy ears.”

“My ears are very dignified.”

I ran my finger over one of the pier’s sleek planks. “Is that why you stayed away so long? Why you became Sturmhond?”

“I don’t know if there’s just one reason. I guess I never felt like I belonged here, so I tried to make a place where I could belong.”

“I never felt like I fit in anywhere either,” I admitted.
Except with Mal.
I pushed the thought away. Then I frowned. “You know what I hate about you?”

He blinked, startled. “No.”

“You always say the right thing.”

“And you hate that?”

“I’ve seen the way you change personas, Nikolai. You’re always what everyone needs you to be. Maybe you never felt like you belonged, or maybe you’re just saying that to make the poor, lonely orphan girl like you more.”

“So you do like me?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, when I don’t want to stab you.”

“It’s a start.”

“No it isn’t.”

He turned to me. In the half-light, his hazel eyes looked like chips of amber.

“I’m a privateer, Alina,” he said quietly. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

I was suddenly aware of his shoulder resting against mine, the press of his thigh. The air felt warm and smelled sweet with the scent of summer and woodsmoke.

“I want to kiss you,” he said.

“You already kissed me,” I replied with a nervous laugh.

A smile tugged at his lips. “I want to kiss you again,” he amended.

“Oh,” I breathed. His mouth was inches from mine. My heart leapt into a panicked gallop.
This is Nikolai
, I reminded myself.
Pure calculation.
I didn’t even think I wanted him to kiss me. But my pride was still smarting from Mal’s rejection. Hadn’t he said he’d kissed plenty of girls?

“I want to kiss you,” Nikolai said. “But I won’t. Not until you’re thinking of me instead of trying to forget him.”

I shoved backward and lurched awkwardly to my feet, feeling flushed and embarrassed.

“Alina—”

“At least now I know you don’t always say the right thing,” I muttered.

I snatched up my shoes and escaped down the pier.

CHAPTER

20

I
STAYED WELL CLEAR
of the Grisha bonfires as I strode around the lakeshore. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.

What had I expected from Nikolai? Distraction? Flirtation? Something to shake the ache in my heart free? Maybe I’d just wanted some petty way to get back at Mal. Or maybe I was so desperate to feel connected to anyone that I would settle for a false kiss from an untrustworthy prince.

The idea of tomorrow night’s birthday dinner filled me with dread. Perhaps I could make some excuse, I considered as I stomped across the grounds. I could send a nice note to the Grand Palace sealed with wax and emblazoned with the Sun Summoner’s official seal:

To Their Most Royal Majesties, the King and Queen of Ravka:

It is with a sad heart that I must proffer my regrets and inform you that I will be unable to attend the festivities celebrating the birth of Prince Nikolai Lantsov, Grand Duke of Udova.

Unfortunate circumstances have arisen, namely that my best friend can’t seem to stand the sight of me, and your son didn’t kiss me, and I wish he had. Or I wish he hadn’t. Or I’m still not sure what I wish, but there’s a very good chance that if I’m forced to sit through his stupid birthday dinner, I’ll end up sobbing into my cake.

With best wishes on this most happy of occasions,

Alina Starkov, Idiot

When I reached the Darkling’s chambers, Tamar was reading in the common room. She looked up when I entered, but my mood must have shown on my face, because she didn’t say a word.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I propped myself up in bed with one of the books I’d taken from the library, an old travel guide that listed Ravka’s famous monuments. I had the barest hope that it would point me toward the arch.

I tried to focus, but I found myself reading the same sentence again and again. My head was muzzy with champagne, and my feet still felt cold and waterlogged from the lake. Mal might be back from his card game. If I knocked on his door and he answered, what would I say?

I tossed the book aside. I didn’t know what to say to Mal. I never did these days. But maybe I could just start with the truth: that I was lost and confused, and maybe losing my mind, that I scared myself sometimes, and that I missed him so much it was like physical pain. I needed to at least try to heal the rift between us before it was completely beyond repair. No matter what he thought of me afterward, it couldn’t get much worse. I could survive another rejection, but I couldn’t bear the thought that I hadn’t even tried to put this right.