“Well,” he said cheerfully, pushing up onto his elbows and looking up at her with all the wry humor he could muster. “Weapons are good to have around too. Far more useful than brides and less likely to mope about the palace. But if you won’t rule Ravka by my side, what does the future hold, General?”
Zoya opened the door to the cargo hold. Light flooded in, gilding her features when she looked back at him. “I’ll fight on beside you. As your general. As your friend. Because whatever my failings, I know this: You are the king Ravka needs.”
32
MAYU
THEY COULDN’T RETURN TO the palace. Not without creating upheaval that no one wanted.
Well, that almost no one wanted.
“Bring us all to Ahmrat Jen,” Bergin demanded, gesturing to the other sickly Grisha prisoners. They had been treated with antidote, but they were weak and there was no telling what permanent damage had been done to their bodies.
Mayu leaned against the wall by the control panel Reyem had smashed. Her brother stood at attention, perfectly still. Too still. It was as if he were as mechanical as the wings on his back, a clockwork soldier who needed no rest. What did he need? Who was he now?
Outside, Ehri and her grandmother conversed beneath the night sky. Makhi had been taken to Leyti’s coach, where she was being guarded by the Tavgharad, who no longer served her, because she was no longer queen.
Bergin took a sip of water. The tremors had left his body, and though he still looked frail, his gaze was bright with anger. “Take us to the capital and let them see what Queen Makhi calls science.”
Mayu thought Tamar would speak up to agree with Bergin, but she only shook her head.
“Look around you,” she said, her hands resting on the Grisha captive’s bony wrist, monitoring his pulse. “This is one laboratory. Our intelligence suggests there are more. I know there’s one near Kobu, but we need the other locations.”
“The doctor can give them to us,” said Bergin.
“That isn’t the only issue.”
“Then what is? I’ve spent nearly three months here in a state of delirium, being dosed with parem and forced to do the unspeakable. The only thing that kept me human was Reyem.”
Their eyes met, and Mayu sensed the strength of the bond between them.
But Reyem looked down. “I don’t know if I’m human anymore.”
Mayu wasn’t sure either. It wasn’t just the wings and the monstrous pincers, but some spark in him had been extinguished. Or maybe replaced with a different kind of fire. Who are you now, Reyem? What are you?
“You spoke Fjerdan and he came back to himself,” Mayu said to Bergin. “How did you do it?”
“I didn’t know I could,” he admitted. “The work of conversion is grueling. It was painful for both of us.”
Reyem’s big shoulders shrugged. “I hated you, just as I hated the doctors and the guards. Until I saw that you were suffering too.”
Bergin rested his head against the metal frame of the bunk. “Most times, there was just the pain and the work. They made me…” He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Reyem.”
A silence fell, weighted with the horrors Bergin and her brother had seen.
Mayu touched her good hand to her twin’s, and he took it gently in his. Tamar and Bergin had done what they could for her other hand, and the pain had receded to a low throb.
Quietly, she said, “You told the queen you died a thousand times.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “To have your heart stopped in your chest, your flesh torn from your bones, to fall into oblivion, then wake to nightmare again and again and again. All for the sake of being reborn as a weapon.”
“I started teaching him Fjerdan,” said Bergin. “To distract him from the pain. Swear words, mostly.”
“What did you say to get him to wake up?” asked Tamar.
Bergin grinned. “You don’t want to know. It was incredibly filthy.”
Ehri entered the lab. Her face had been washed clean, but she was still covered in sludge. “We can’t stay here any longer. It will be dawn soon. There’s a small summer palace between here and the city. Queen Leyti commands that we travel there. We can eat, bathe, change our clothes, and figure out what we’re going to do.”
Bergin struck his fist against the bunk. “There will be no punishment for Makhi, for any of them. Just watch.”
“Why not?” Mayu asked. She felt naive asking, like a child trying to keep pace with her brother once more.
“Because they’re all Taban,” said Reyem. “A mark against one is a mark against all of them.”
“Not Ehri,” said Mayu. “The people love her. And they know she would never do anything like this. There will be justice.”
She looked to the princess, but all Ehri did was gesture to the door. “Come. There will be time to talk when we’ve eaten and rested.”
It took a while to sort out the laboratory. Tamar brought the doctor back to consciousness and he, in turn, woke the other khergud as Queen Leyti and Ehri looked on. There were four including Reyem, but none of the others remembered their true names. They asked no questions, made no requests. They simply stood—some with wings, some with horns, some with claws—waiting for orders. Perfect soldiers. Had they been further along in their transformation than Reyem? Or had none of them had a Bergin, someone to remind them that they were more than pain and anger?
Mayu watched as they locked up the laboratory, and Bergin and Reyem took their last look at this nightmare place. It was evidence and would be left intact for now.
But I’ll come back, she promised herself. She might never banish the emptiness from her brother’s eyes, but she would pull this place apart piece by piece if she had to. She would watch it burn to the ground.
* * *
The journey to the summer palace didn’t take long. It was located in a green dell beside its own gleaming lake, a getaway for members of the royal family or important guests of the crown in the hot months.
Mayu sat with her brother and Bergin in one of the garden rooms, the windows framing the sun slowly rising over the lake. The other Grisha and the khergud had been placed in separate, heavily guarded chambers, but Bergin had been allowed to remain with Reyem.
“What happens now?” he asked. “I can’t return to Fjerda.”
Mayu didn’t know. She hadn’t thought past finding Reyem and freeing him. “We could go home,” she suggested. “Mother and Fath—”
“No,” Reyem said harshly. “I never want them to see me like this.”
“They think you’re dead.”
“Good. Let them mourn me.”
“Reyem,” pleaded Mayu. She needed to know they could take some part of their lives back. “They love you. More than anything. More than me. More than life. They’ll love you this way as they loved you before.”
“But I don’t know that I can love them back.”
Mayu looked away. She couldn’t bear to think of her sweet, laughing, generous brother, and know that he was gone.
A knock came at the door and Tamar appeared. “They want your testimony.”
Mayu rose and felt a brush of fingers against her hand.
Reyem was looking at her. “Sister. Kebben. Let this be enough.”
All she could do was nod and try to smile. He would forever be her brother, no matter what he’d been robbed of.
Queen Leyti was waiting in the temple hall, seated on a throne and bracketed by Tavgharad, Ehri to her right. Statues of the Six Soldiers glowed in sunlit niches on the walls. Makhi had been seated on a low cushion to the queen’s left, a position meant to humble her. But she sat with perfect poise, her face serene, as if she were the one on the throne.
“Mayu Kir-Kaat,” said Queen Leyti. “Will you tell us your story?”
Mayu couldn’t hide her surprise. She’d expected she would only have to confirm what Ehri had already said, as she had with Ministers Nagh and Zihun. She looked to Tamar, then to Ehri, who gave her a gentle nod of encourage
ment.
“Begin with your brother,” said the princess. “When did you know he had disappeared?”
Mayu took a deep breath. “They told me he was dead, but I didn’t believe them. I’d heard whispers of the khergud, as all of us had. So I set out to find him.” The words came haltingly at first. Mayu felt as if she was struggling to tug them free, but slowly the tale began to unspool, and then it was dragging her along and she could only follow. At some point, she realized she was crying. She’d never unraveled her story, Isaak’s story, never told anyone, never had the chance to fit the beginning to the middle to what might be the end.
When she was done, Queen Leyti said, “You have served the crown well, Mayu Kir-Kaat. I would ask you to remain one of our falcons. Ehri will need protection from someone she can trust in the years to come.”
Mayu saluted. “I will gladly serve our future queen.”
“But I will not be your queen,” said Ehri softly.
“Then—”
Leyti held up a hand. “I will rule until one of my great-grandchildren is old enough to serve. Ehri and Makhi will then act as her regents.”
“You can’t mean that!” Mayu cried. The soldier she’d been might have stayed quiet, would have known her place, but the sight of that laboratory had forever banished that girl to the past, and someone had to speak for the victims of Makhi’s violence. “Makhi violated your wishes even before she was queen. She’s the reason jurda parem exists. She’s the reason my brother … None of those people will ever be the same. They were soldiers who served your family and this country. They deserve better.”
“The laboratories will be shut down,” said Queen Leyti, “and Makhi will no longer have authority over the dispersal of funds. She will not be able to start up the program again. The khergud will be offered sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary?” Mayu said. “You mean exile, don’t you?”
“They must remain a secret. For now, they will stay here at the summer palace to rest and recover while we continue on to the capital.”
Mayu couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Bergin was right. He said there would be no justice. That Makhi and her lackeys wouldn’t face punishment.” She turned her anger on Ehri. “I told him you were better than that.”
But it was Tamar who spoke. “If what Makhi has done becomes widely known, chaos will erupt. Each of the Taban sisters will become contenders for the throne.”
“They’re murdering Grisha!” Mayu shouted. “Your own people! Don’t you—”
Tamar didn’t flinch. “I am Grisha and I am also Shu. I don’t want to see this country torn apart by civil war the way Ravka has been.”
“You don’t care about Shu Han. You just want an ally to help fend off the Fjerdans. Makhi should face trial.”
“There will be no trial,” said Queen Leyti. “Makhi will claim she’s ill and will gratefully serve the crown alongside her sister.”
Mayu threw her hands up. What had been done to her brother, to the Grisha, to her, to Isaak, did none of it mean anything? “You know she won’t settle for that. Makhi can’t be trusted.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Queen Leyti. “That is why I have arranged for insurance.” She gestured to her guards and Minister Yerwei entered, the man who had served as doctor to three Taban queens.
“Him?” Mayu said in disbelief. “Yerwei is her closest confidant.”
But Makhi didn’t look triumphant. For the first time her serene expression faltered and her face paled. Queen Leyti watched her granddaughter with sad eyes. “I hoped there was no truth in it,” she said. “But I see now that Minister Yerwei did not lie. Ehri was meant to be your mother’s heir.”
“That … that can’t be,” said Ehri.
Makhi’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “She said I had been born with all the Taban guile but none of the Taban heart.”
“I fear she was right,” said Queen Leyti. “Minister Yerwei, you have prepared a confession, have you not?”
“I have, Your Majesty. Four copies, as you commanded.”
“Makhi, you will sign these confessions too. Then they will be sealed. One will remain with me, one with Ehri, one with Ministers Nagh and Zihun—who have no idea of the contents. One will go to Ravka with Tamar Kir-Bataar. You will abide by the terms I have set before you and the treaty you yourself signed, or your crimes against the crown will be revealed and you will be tried as a traitor to the Taban line.”
“I will never bow to another Taban queen,” Makhi spat.
“That is your choice. In which case, you may absent yourself from court and spend your days in a palace of your choosing, guarded by the Tavgharad of my choosing. If you’re in need of a hobby, I recommend gardening.”
“Your Majesty,” said Tamar, stepping forward. “I would ask—”
“I know what you will ask, Tamar Kir-Bataar. I cannot send troops to aid your king.”
“Queen Makhi signed a treaty. An attack against Ravka is an attack against the Shu.”
“We will send the Ravkan king our most sincere apologies and a confirmation of our friendship, but we cannot send our soldiers to die in a foreign war.”
“Grandmother,” said Ehri, “it was Nikolai Lantsov who saved my life.”
“We owe him a debt,” Mayu agreed. She had no love for the Ravkan king, but she and her brother owed him their lives. He could have put her to death for the crimes she’d committed. He could have married Ehri to forge an alliance and forsaken the Grisha and the khergud soldiers trapped in secret laboratories. “We can’t abandon his country.”
Leyti held up a hand. “We fulfill this debt by honoring our treaty and agreeing to support the rights of all Grisha. We cannot do that if we are seen as Ravkan puppets.”
Tamar was watching Leyti, and Makhi, and Minister Yerwei. “You’ve made some kind of agreement with Fjerda, haven’t you? They want you to stay neutral.”
“Fjerda has let us know that, should they occupy Ravka, they will honor our shared border.”
Slowly, Tamar shook her head. “You had best hope they’re more trustworthy than you and your granddaughter.”
“We cannot send the Lantsov king aid. The ministers will balk and they’re right to. It’s not our war.”
“It will be when there’s no Ravka to stand between you and the Fjerdans.”
Queen Leyti Kir-Taban, Daughter of Heaven, was not moved. “If the wolves come howling, we will face them then. For now, the fox will meet them on his own.”
33
THE MONK
ALEKSANDER SURVEYED HIS ARMY of the faithful, his acolytes, the people with whom he would build a new age. For the first time in several hundred years, he wished for whiskey.
“They are ready,” said Brother Chernov, brimming with pride, his gray-flecked beard nearly bristling with excitement.
Ready to die, I suppose, Aleksander thought, but let none of his frustration show.
He clapped Chernov on the back. “Onward to revelation.”
The big man trailed him as they walked the camp together. Aleksander had no way of knowing where the Fjerdans would attack, so he’d brought his followers—and they were his now—to the area north of Adena to await word of battle. But they’d insisted on journeying west into the Fold to spend their nights in communion with the Starless One. I’m right here, he’d wanted to shout. He had no choice but to oblige them in a pilgrimage to the holy sands.
He didn’t care for it. It was, in part, a question of practicality. There was no shelter on the Fold, no plants to forage, no game to hunt. All they had to eat was the hardtack and dried meat they’d brought with them, a few barrels of flat beer, and the water in their canteens. They slept on hard ground with no trees or rocks to take the brunt of the winter wind. And yet, his companions were jubilant. They held services every sundown, and during the days, they alternated praying and training. They were going into a battle, after all, and though Aleksander did not intend for them to do much fighting, they needed to look like
they knew what they were doing.
“Where did you come by such military knowledge, Yuri?” Brother Azarov asked as Aleksander put the pilgrims through another round of sprints. He’d been a soldier himself before he’d deserted to join the ranks of the Starless.
“During my time with the Priestguard,” he lied.
Yuri had never so much as held a gun. He’d been happiest confined to the library.
“We need more weapons,” he said.
Chernov’s furry brows rose. “Why? When the Starless One—”
“We don’t dictate the arrival of the Starless Saint. We have to be ready to defend ourselves.”
Are they all so eager to die? he wondered.
They believe, came Yuri’s reply. They believe in you.
All for the best, but war was war.
“There’s a cache of weapons at the old fort east of Ryevost,” Brother Azarov said. “I was stationed there for a time.”
“You think they’ll still be there?” Aleksander asked.
“If the Starless One watches over us, they will be.”
Aleksander had to fight not to roll his eyes. If he remembered correctly, the old fort had been all but decommissioned and used as an ammunitions stockpile.
“We’ll go there tonight,” he said.
“After services.”
“Of course.”
After nightfall, they hitched a wagon to two of their horses and traveled to the old fort. Getting past the guards was easy enough. The only challenge had been summoning shadow to cloak their movements without revealing his power to Brother Azarov.
But their luck had quickly turned.
“This is it?” Aleksander asked, looking at the crates of decrepit weapons. He picked up one of the old, single-shot rifles. “We might as well try to slap them to death.”
“The Starless One will protect us.”
Rule of Wolves Page 38