I raised my hands, and the light swept forward in sizzling cords, tearing through the nichevo’ya one by one, until they were gone. Zoya dropped her hands, and a samovar fell with a loud clang.
At every door we heard thumping and scraping. The nichevo’ya were clawing at the wood, trying to get in, searching for a crack or gap to seep through. The buzzing and clicking seemed to come from all sides. But the Fabrikators had done their work well. The seals would hold, at least for a little while.
Then I looked around the room. The hall was bathed in blood. The walls were smeared with it, the stone floor was wet with it. There were bodies everywhere, little heaps of purple, red, and blue.
“Are there any others?” I asked. I couldn’t keep the tremor from my voice.
Zoya gave a single, dazed shake of her head. A spatter of blood covered one of her cheeks. “We were at dinner,” she said. “We heard the bells. We didn’t have time to seal the doors. They were just… everywhere.”
Sergei was sobbing quietly. David looked pale, but calm. Nadia had made it down to the hall. She had her arm around Adrik, and he still had that stubborn tilt to his chin, though he was shaking. There were three Inferni and two more Corporalki—one Healer and one Heartrender. They were all that remained of the Second Army.
“Did anyone see Tolya and Tamar?” I asked. But no one had. They might be dead. Or maybe they’d played some part in this disaster. Tamar had disappeared from the dining room. For all I knew, they’d been working with the Darkling all along.
“Nikolai might not have left yet,” Mal said. “We could try to make it to the Kingfisher.”
I shook my head. If Nikolai wasn’t gone, then he and the rest of his family were dead, and possibly Baghra too. I had a sudden image of Nikolai’s body floating facedown in the lake beside the splintered pieces of the Kingfisher.
No. I would not think that way. I remembered what I’d thought of Nikolai the first time I’d met him. I had to believe the clever fox would escape this trap, too.
“The Darkling concentrated his forces here,” I said. “We can make a run for the upper town and try to fight our way out from there.”
“We’ll never make it,” said Sergei hopelessly. “There are too many of them.” It was true. We’d known it might come to this, but we’d assumed we’d have greater numbers, and the hope of reinforcements from Poliznaya.
From somewhere in the distance, we heard a rolling crack of thunder.
“He’s coming,” moaned one of the Inferni. “Oh, Saints, he’s coming.”
“He’ll kill us all,” whispered Sergei.
“If we’re lucky,” replied Zoya.
It wasn’t the most helpful thing to say, but she was right. I’d seen the truth of how the Darkling dealt with traitors in the shadowy depths of his own mother’s eyes, and I suspected Zoya and the others would be treated far more harshly.
Zoya tried to wipe the blood from her face, but only succeeded in leaving a smear across her cheek. “I say we try to get to the upper town. I’d rather take my chances with the monsters outside than sit here waiting for the Darkling.”
“The odds aren’t good,” I warned, hating that I had no hope to offer. “I’m not strong enough to stop them all.”
“At least with the nichevo’ya it will be relatively quick,” David said. “I say we go down fighting.” We all turned to look at him. He seemed a little surprised himself. Then he shrugged. He met my eyes and said, “We do the best we can.”
I looked around the circle. One by one they nodded.
I took a breath. “David, do you have any grenatki left?”
He pulled two iron cylinders from his kefta. “These are the last.”
“Use one, keep the other in reserve. I’ll give the signal. When I open the doors, run for the palace gates.”
“I’m staying with you,” Mal said.
I opened my mouth to argue, but one look told me there would be no point.
“Don’t wait for us,” I said to the others. “I’ll give you as much cover as I can.”
Another clap of thunder split the air.
The Grisha plucked rifles from the arms of the dead and gathered around me at the door.
“All right,” I said. I turned and laid my hands on the carved handles. Through my palms, I felt the thump of nichevo’ya bodies as they heaved themselves against the wood. My wound gave a searing throb.
I nodded to Zoya. The lock snicked back.
I threw the door open and shouted, “Now!”
David lobbed the flash bomb into the twilight as Zoya swooped her arms through the air, lofting the cylinder higher on a Squaller draft.
“Get down!” David yelled. We turned toward the shelter of the hall, eyes squeezed shut, hands thrown over our heads, bracing for the explosion.
The blast shook the stone floor beneath our feet, and the glare burned red across my closed lids.
We ran. The nichevo’ya had scattered, startled by the burst of light and sound, but only seconds later, they were whirling back toward us.
“Run!” I shouted. I raised my arms and brought the light down in fiery scythes, cutting through the violet sky, carving through one nichevo’ya after the next as Mal opened fire. The Grisha ran for the wooded tunnel.
I called on every bit of the stag’s power, the sea whip’s strength, every trick Baghra had ever taught me. I pulled the light toward me and honed it into searing arcs that cut luminous trails through the shadow army.
But there were just too many of them. What had it cost the Darkling to raise such a multitude? They surged forward, bodies shifting and whirling like a glittering cloud of beetles, arms stretched forward, sharp talons bared. They pushed the Grisha back from the tunnel, black wings beating the air, the wide, twisted holes of their mouths already yawning open.
Then the air came alive with the rattle of gunfire. There were soldiers pouring out of the woods to my left, shooting as they ran. The war cry that issued from their lips raised the hair on my arms. Sankta Alina.
They hurtled toward the nichevo’ya, drawing swords and sabers, slashing out at the monsters with terrifying ferocity. Some were dressed as farmers, some wore ragged First Army uniforms, but each of them bore identical tattoos: my sunburst, wrought in ink over the sides of their faces.
Only two were unmarked. Tolya and Tamar led the charge, eyes wild, blades flashing, roaring my name.
CHAPTER 23
THE SUN SOLDIERS plunged into the shadow horde, cutting and thrusting, pushing the nichevo’ya back as the riflemen fired again and again. But despite their ferocity, they were only human, flesh and steel pitted against living shadow. One by one, the nichevo’ya began to pick them off.
“Make for the chapel!” Tamar shouted.
The chapel? Did she plan to throw hymnals at the Darkling?
“We’ll be trapped!” cried Sergei, running toward me.
“We’re already trapped,” Mal replied, slinging his rifle onto his back and grabbing my arm. “Let’s go!”
I didn’t know what to think, but we were out of options.
“David!” I yelled. “The second bomb!”
He flung it toward the nichevo’ya. His aim was wild, but Zoya was there to help it along.
We dove into the woods, the sun soldiers bringing up the rear. The blast tore through the trees in a gust of white light.
Lamps had been lit in the chapel and the door stood open. We burst inside, the echoes from our footfalls bouncing up over the pews and off the glazed blue dome.
“Where do we go?” Sergei cried in panic.
Already we could hear the whirring, clicking hum from outside. Tolya slammed the chapel door shut, dropping a heavy wooden bolt into place. The sun soldiers took up positions by the windows, rifles in hand.
Tamar hurdled over a pew and shot past me up the aisle. “Come on!”
I watched her in confusion. Just where were we supposed to go?
She tore past the altar and grasped one gilded wood corner of
the triptych. I gaped as the water-damaged panel swung open, revealing the dark mouth of a passageway. This was how the sun soldiers had gotten onto the grounds. And how the Apparat had escaped from the Grand Palace.
“Where does it go?” asked David.
“Does it matter?” Zoya shot back.
The building shook as a loud crack of thunder split the air. The chapel door blew to pieces. Tolya was thrown backward, and darkness flooded through.
The Darkling came borne on a tide of shadow, held aloft by monsters who set his feet upon the chapel floor with infinite care.
“Fire!” Tamar shouted.
Shots rang out. The nichevo’ya writhed and whirled around the Darkling, shifting and re-forming as the bullets struck their bodies, one taking the place of another in a seamless tide of shadow. He didn’t even break stride.
Nichevo’ya were streaming through the chapel door. Tolya was already on his feet and rushing to my side with pistols drawn. Tamar and Mal flanked me, the Grisha arrayed behind us. I raised my hands, summoning the light, bracing for the onslaught.
“Stand down, Alina,” said the Darkling. His cool voice echoed through the chapel, cutting through the noise and chaos. “Stand down, and I will spare them.”
In answer, Tamar scraped one axe blade over the other, raising a horrible shriek of metal on metal. The sun soldiers lifted their rifles, and I heard the sound of Inferni flint being struck.
“Look around, Alina,” the Darkling said. “You cannot win. You can only watch them die. Come to me now, and I will do them no harm—not your zealot soldiers, not even the Grisha traitors.”
I took in the nightmare of the chapel. The nichevo’ya swarmed above us, crowding up against the inside of the dome. They clustered around the Darkling in a dense cloud of bodies and wings. Through the windows I could see more, hovering in the twilight sky.
The sun soldiers’ faces were determined, but their ranks had been badly thinned. One of them had pimples on his chin. Beneath his tattoo, he didn’t look much older than twelve. They needed a miracle from their Saint, one I couldn’t perform.
Tolya cocked the triggers on his pistols.
“Hold,” I said.
“Alina,” Tamar whispered, “we can still get you out.”
“Hold,” I repeated.
The sun soldiers lowered their rifles. Tamar brought her axes to her hips but kept her grip tight.
“What are your terms?” I asked.
Mal frowned. Tolya shook his head. I didn’t care. I knew it might be a ploy, but if there was even a chance of saving their lives, I had to take it.
“Give yourself up,” said the Darkling. “And they all go free. They can climb down that rabbit hole and disappear forever.”
“Free?” Sergei whispered.
“He’s lying,” said Mal. “It’s what he does.”
“I don’t need to lie,” said the Darkling. “Alina wants to come with me.”
“She doesn’t want any part of you,” Mal spat.
“No?” the Darkling asked. His dark hair gleamed in the lamplight of the chapel. Summoning his shadow army had taken its toll. He was thinner, paler, but somehow the sharp angles of his face had only become more beautiful. “I warned you that your otkazat’sya could never understand you, Alina. I told you that he would only come to fear you and resent your power. Tell me I was wrong.”
“You were wrong.” My voice was steady, but doubt rustled in my heart.
The Darkling shook his head. “You cannot lie to me. Do you think I could have come to you again and again, if you had been less alone? You called to me, and I answered.”
I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. “You… you were there?”
“On the Fold. In the palace. Last night.”
I flushed as I remembered his body on top of mine. Shame washed through me, but with it came overwhelming relief. I hadn’t imagined it all.
“That isn’t possible,” Mal bit out.
“You have no idea what I can make possible, tracker.”
I shut my eyes.
“Alina—”
“I’ve seen what you truly are,” said the Darkling, “and I’ve never turned away. I never will. Can he say the same?”
“You don’t know anything about her,” Mal said fiercely.
“Come with me now, and it all stops—the fear, the uncertainty, the bloodshed. Let him go, Alina. Let them all go.”
“No,” I said. But even as I shook my head, something in me cried out, Yes.
The Darkling sighed and glanced back over his shoulder. “Bring her,” he said.
A figure shuffled forward, draped in a heavy shawl, hunched and slow-moving, as if every step brought pain. Baghra.
My stomach twisted sickly. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why couldn’t she have gone with Nikolai? Unless Nikolai had never made it out.
The Darkling laid a hand on Baghra’s shoulder. She flinched.
“Leave her alone,” I said angrily.
“Show them,” he said.
She unwound her shawl. I drew in a sharp breath. I heard someone behind me moan.
It was not Baghra. I didn’t know what it was. The bites were everywhere, raised black ridges of flesh, twisting lumps of tissue that could never be healed, not by Grisha hand or by any other, the unmistakable marks of the nichevo’ya. Then I saw the faded flame of her hair, the lovely amber hue of her one remaining eye.
“Genya,” I gasped.
We stood in terrible silence. I took a step toward her. Then David pushed past me down the altar steps. Genya cringed away from him, pulling up her shawl, and turned to hide her face.
David slowed. He hesitated. Gently, he reached out to touch her shoulder. I saw the rise and fall of her back, and knew she was crying.
I covered my mouth as a sob tore free from my throat.
I’d seen a thousand horrors on this long day, but this was the one that broke me, Genya cringing away from David like a frightened animal. Luminous Genya, with her alabaster skin and graceful hands. Resilient Genya, who had endured countless indignities and insults, but who had always held her lovely chin high. Foolish Genya, who had tried to be my friend, who had dared to show me mercy.
David drew his arm around Genya’s shoulders and slowly led her back up the aisle. The Darkling didn’t stop them.
“I’ve waged the war you forced me to, Alina,” said the Darkling. “If you hadn’t run from me, the Second Army would still be intact. All those Grisha would still be alive. Your tracker would be safe and happy with his regiment. When will it be enough? When will you let me stop?”
You cannot be helped. Your only hope was to run. Baghra was right. I’d been a fool to think I could fight him. I’d tried, and countless people had lost their lives for it.
“You mourn the people killed in Novokribirsk,” the Darkling continued, “the people lost to the Fold. But what of the thousands that came before them, given over to endless wars? What of the others dying now on distant shores? Together, we can put an end to all of it.”
Reasonable. Logical. For once, I let the words in. An end to all of it.
It’s over.
I should have felt beaten down by the thought, defeated, but instead it filled me with a curious lightness. Hadn’t some part of me known it would end this way all along?
The moment the Darkling had slipped his hand over my arm in the Grisha pavilion so long ago, he’d taken possession of me. I just hadn’t realized it.
“All right,” I whispered.
“Alina, no!” Mal said furiously.
“You’ll let them go?” I asked. “All of them?”
“We need the tracker,” said the Darkling. “For the firebird.”
“He goes free. You can’t have both of us.”
The Darkling paused, then nodded once. I knew he thought he would find a way to claim Mal. Let him believe it. I would never let it happen.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Mal said through clenched teeth.
&nbs
p; I turned to Tolya and Tamar. “Take him from here. Even if you have to carry him.”
“Alina—”
“We won’t go,” said Tamar. “We are sworn.”
“You will.”
Tolya shook his huge head. “We pledged our lives to you. All of us.”
I turned to face them. “Then do as I command,” I said. “Tolya Yul-Baatar, Tamar Kir-Baatar, you will take these people from here to safety.” I summoned the light, letting it blaze in a glorious halo around me. A cheap trick, but a good one. Nikolai would have been proud. “Do not fail me.”
Tamar had tears in her eyes, but she and her brother bowed their heads.
Mal hooked my arm and turned me around roughly. “What are you doing?”
“I want this.” I need it. Sacrifice or selfishness, it didn’t matter anymore.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I can’t run from what I am, Mal, from what I’m becoming. I can’t bring the Alina you knew back, but I can set you free.”
“You can’t… you can’t choose him.”
“There isn’t any choice to make. This is what was meant to be.” It was true. I felt it in the collar, in the weight of the fetter. For the first time in weeks, I felt strong.
He shook his head. “This is all wrong.” The look on his face almost undid me. It was lost, startled, like a little boy standing alone in the ruin of a burning village. “Please, Alina,” he said softly. “Please. This can’t be how it ends.”
I rested my hand on his cheek, hoping that there was still enough between us that he would understand. I stood on my toes and kissed the scar on his jaw.
“I have loved you all my life, Mal,” I whispered through my tears. “There is no end to our story.”
I stepped back, memorizing every line of his beloved face. Then I turned and walked up the aisle. My steps were sure. Mal would have a life. He’d find his purpose. I had to seek mine. Nikolai had promised me a chance to save Ravka, to make amends for all I’d done. He’d tried, but it was the Darkling’s gift to give.
“Alina!” Mal shouted. I heard scuffling behind me and knew Tolya had taken hold of him. “Alina!” His voice was raw white wood, torn from the heart of a tree. I did not turn.
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