“What happens in the dreams?” Alina asked.

“I become him.”

Genya worried her lip. “You’re being tortured?”

“Worse than that … I have everything he wanted. The crown. The power. I’m a conqueror of cities, an empress, a killer.” In her dreams, she stood on the prow of a ship with a beautiful city before her. She raised her hands and the Fold rushed forward in a black tide, drowning Novokribirsk. She woke each night bathed in sweat, hearing her aunt’s screams. “I’m not certain we can just leave him there.”

Genya crossed her arms. “No?”

“Not if we want to rule justly. Not if the future is meant to be better than the past.”

“Do you have a fever?” Genya asked.

But Alina’s expression was knowing. “You’re afraid you’ll become him. You’re afraid you’ll be the avalanche.”

Immortal and unstoppable, another tragedy to befall Ravka.

“What are we meant to do?” Genya said. “Free him? Forgive him?”

“Grant him death,” said Zoya.

Genya stood and walked to the mantel. “Does he deserve it?”

“That’s not my choice to make,” said Zoya. “Not on my own.”

Alina rested her head on the back of the couch. “Why are we even discussing this? From what I understand, the Darkling knew the bargain he made. He stands at the doorway between worlds. If he dies, the Fold ruptures again and the void comes pouring through.”

“Yes,” said Zoya. “But the monk told me that a heart as strong as his could free him.” She’d spoken Liliyana’s words. She’d wanted Zoya to listen.

Genya looked aghast. “Someone to take his place? Unless you’re volunteering Jarl Brum—”

“No, I think it was a riddle. Not someone, something. The first heart to be pierced by the thorn wood. The heart of Sankt Feliks.”

“You’re talking about a relic.” Alina sounded skeptical. “As someone whose finger bones are on sale in villages right now, let me tell you, they’re all fake.”

“She’s right,” said Genya. “If Sankt Feliks really existed and his heart was somehow preserved, no one knows where it is.”

“True,” said Zoya. “And whoever has it won’t be eager to part with an object of so much power.”

Genya made a kind of humming noise. “So, if we decide he deserves the mercy of death, where does that leave us?”

Zoya touched her fingers to the little wire ship on her desk. “A priceless object, impossible to find, no doubt under lock and key, and most certainly in need of stealing? I know a thief who might be up to the task.”

Genya groaned. “You can’t be serious. You can’t stand the man!”

“Because he’s insufferably rude and utterly without morals. But he has his uses.”

“You think he’ll do it?” asked Genya.

“For the right reward.”

There was a long silence in the room. At last Genya reached for Alina’s glass and took a long sip. “I don’t believe the Darkling has earned forgiveness. I don’t know how many years of pain buys that, or when we become the monsters and he becomes the victim. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing that math. If there’s really a way to accomplish it, let’s be rid of this burden once and for all.”

“All right,” said Alina.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Zoya rang for a servant to fetch Nikolai.

“Has a decision been reached?” he asked. “I can’t decide if you all look ruthless or beneficent. Maybe just hungry.”

“Is Captain Ghafa still here?”

“I believe she left an hour ago in the company of Prince Rasmus and his betrothed.”

“Perhaps that’s a sign,” Zoya ventured.

“Zoya,” Alina said warningly. “We did agree.”

“Oh, all right,” Zoya said. “I need Sturmhond to take a message to Ketterdam for me.”

“I hear he’s very busy these days.”

“I think he’ll appreciate the reward.”

He lowered his voice. “If it involves you out of that dress, I have no doubt I can convince him.”

“You won’t stop until you’ve created a scandal, will you?”

“The demon made me do it. What vital message will the world’s most handsome privateer be taking to Ketterdam?”

Zoya sighed. Tragic to think a woman might have everything she desired and still have need of a thief.

“Get a message to the Crow Club,” she said. “Tell Kaz Brekker the queen of Ravka has a job for him.”