“When I have the time.”

“So, no.”

“I read when I can’t sleep.”

“So, regularly then. If the Fjerdans have testimony from my mother, that will be the end of it all.”

Zoya hesitated, and he knew she was weighing her words. “Would she betray you that way?”

He didn’t want to think so, but he couldn’t afford to pretend. “I sent her from her country and stripped her of a crown. The argument might be made that I betrayed her first.”

“I haven’t spoken to my mother since I was nine.”

When she’d tried to marry Zoya off to some rotten old noble with bags full of money. “Always wise to get a head start on estrangement.”

“The terrible thing is … I didn’t miss her. I still don’t. Maybe I miss something I never had.”

Nikolai knew that feeling, the longing for a father he could trust, an older brother who might have been his companion instead of his rival. A real family. “I wish my parents had been different people, but they owe me nothing. If my mother chooses to speak against my parentage, I can’t blame her.” But it would still hurt like hell.

Zoya pushed herself up on her elbows. “None of it will matter if we win, truly win. Ravka loves victory more than it loves royal blood.”

And it had been a very long time since Ravka had been given much cause to celebrate.

“That’s why the Darkling expanded the Fold, isn’t it?” Nikolai mused. “He was looking for a weapon that would leave no one in doubt of Ravka’s power. He knew if he gave the people victory, they would finally love him. What did your Grisha say about what happened at the base?”

“About your demon?” She sighed and lay back down. “They’re shaken. Adrik lost his arm to one of the Darkling’s nichevo’ya. It’s hard for him to see that creature and not go back to those terrible days. I remember Tolya trying to heal him, the blood … He left a lake of it on the deck of the ship we escaped on.”

“Will Adrik leave?”

“I don’t think he’ll desert. But I can’t vouch for the others. Some secrets need to be kept.”

“Do they?” He turned his head, trying to decipher the dark slash of her brows, the black of her hair. She looked just as she always had—beautiful, impossible Zoya. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Suli?”

“I think you know, Nikolai.”

“You really believe it would have changed the way I see you?”

“No. Not you. But ask yourself, would your First Army generals treat me so respectfully if they knew I was Suli?”

“If they didn’t, they would stop being my generals.”

“Do you really think it’s as simple as that? That they would make it that easy?” She shook her head. “They never come at you with hatred. They come at you with pity. Did you learn to read in the Suli caravans? Was it hard growing up in such squalor? They giggle about the dark hair on your arms or say that you look Ravkan like it’s some kind of compliment. They don’t make it easy to fight them.” Zoya closed her eyes. “I passed because it was safer to be Zoya Nazyalensky than Zoya Nabri. I guess I thought it would keep me safe. Now I’m not so sure. The woman on the cliffs called me daughter. That word … I didn’t know I needed that word. I don’t regret turning my back on my parents. But it’s hard not to wonder what might have happened if my father had stood up for me. If we’d gone to live with his people. If I’d had someplace other than the Little Palace to run to, someone other than the Darkling to make me feel capable and strong.”

“It isn’t too late, Zoya. They chose to help you on the cliffs, not me, not Kaz Brekker.”

Now Zoya’s laugh was harsh. “But they don’t really know me, do they?”

“I would choose you.” The words were out before he thought better of them, and then there was no way to pull them back.

Silence stretched between them. Perhaps the floor will open and I’ll plummet to my death, he thought hopefully.

“As your general?” Her voice careful. She was offering him a chance to right the ship, to take them back to familiar waters.

And a fine general you are.

There could be no better leader.

You may be prickly, but that’s what Ravka needs.

So many easy replies.

Instead he said, “As my queen.”

He couldn’t read her expression. Was she pleased? Embarrassed? Angry? Every cell in his body screamed for him to crack a joke, to free both of them from the peril of this moment. But he wouldn’t. He was still a privateer, and he’d come too far.

“Because I’m a dependable soldier,” she said, but she didn’t sound sure. It was that same cautious, tentative voice, the voice of someone waiting for a punch line, or maybe a blow. “Because I know all your secrets.”

“I do trust you more than myself sometimes—and I think very highly of myself.”

Hadn’t she said there was no one else she’d choose to have her back in a fight?

But that isn’t the whole truth, is it, you great cowardly lump. To hell with it. They might all die soon enough. They were safe here in the dark, surrounded by the hum of the engines.

“I would make you my queen because I want you. I want you all the time.”

She rolled onto her side, resting her head on her folded arm. A small movement, but he could feel her breath now. His heart was racing. “As your general, I should tell you that would be a terrible decision.”

He turned onto his side. They were facing each other now. “As your king, I should tell you that no one could dissuade me. No prince and no power could make me stop wanting you.”

Nikolai felt drunk. Maybe unleashing the demon had loosed something in his brain. She was going to laugh at him. She would knock him senseless and tell him he had no right. But he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I would give you a crown if I could,” he said. “I would show you the world from the prow of a ship. I would choose you, Zoya. As my general, as my friend, as my bride. I would give you a sapphire the size of an acorn.” He reached into his pocket. “And all I would ask in return is that you wear this damnable ribbon in your hair on our wedding day.”

She reached out, her fingers hovering over the coil of blue velvet ribbon resting in his palm.