“Look around you, Makhi,” Ehri said. “Is this what you want your legacy to be? Torture?”

“What you call torture, I call science. If I were building tanks like the Fjerdans or missiles like the Ravkans, would you find that more palatable? People die. That is what war is.”

Reyem slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a deep dent. “To be khergud is to die a thousand times.”

“You had no right,” said Mayu, rage coursing through her. “You are a queen, not a god.”

Makhi drew in a breath, looking down her nose at all of them. There could be no doubt she had been born to rule. “It was not my right. It was my duty. To make my country strong.”

“You need bear the burden of that duty no longer.”

They all turned. Leyti Kir-Taban, Daughter of Heaven and Taban queen, entered the laboratory, dressed in a gown of green velvet embroidered with roses the color of flame. She was surrounded by her Tavgharad, some of them with hair as gray as hers, and by Grisha in their gem-colored kefta.

“Grandmother?” Makhi said, blinking as if she might clear the image from her eyes. “But you were at your palace.”

“I am not quite the fool you think I am,” Princess Ehri said gently. “I never would have left our grandmother at the Palace of the Thousand Stars. I know you too well for that. As soon as Tamar’s scouts saw you had called for the khergud, we sent word to our grandmother’s hiding place.”

Mayu remembered the two riders dressed as peasants. To the queen, Tamar had said. Mayu had assumed she meant Makhi.

Leyti gave a nod of confirmation. “I thank you for the use of your airship, Tamar Kir-Bataar.”

“It is Ravka’s honor,” Tamar said with a bow.

Makhi tried to straighten her gown. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“I understand quite well,” said Queen Leyti. “I assert my right as Taban queen and rescind my blessing. The crown is yours no longer.”

30

NINA

GELIDBEL WAS THE CROWNING EVENT of Heartwood, the last formal ball before proposals were issued.

Brum had been as good as his word and had secured new fabrics for Mila Jandersdat’s gowns. Most had been modest and understated. But the ball gown Nina wore tonight was all sparkling silver; dagger-shaped beads like icicles shifted with her every move. Her figure wasn’t suited to the long, high-waisted styles popular in Fjerda, but the dress was beautiful.

I’d rather be in a kefta, Nina thought as she looked in the mirror. Her country was on the brink of war and she was stuffed into a ball gown and velvet slippers.

“You look like a winter morning,” said Hanne, who came to stand beside her.

“And you look like dragon’s gold.”

Hanne’s gown bordered on the scandalous, sheer panels of amber silk alternating with tiny beads that glistened like droplets of molten gold. It was impossible to tell what was fabric and what was skin. Ylva’s dressmakers had outdone themselves.

But Hanne kept her eyes on Nina, avoiding her own reflection. “I’ll take your word for it.” She smoothed the folds of her gown, then curled her fingertips, as if the feeling of the silk over her skin displeased her.

“Hanne, what’s wrong? You look like magic.”

“It isn’t … that isn’t me.” Hanne closed her eyes and shook her head. “Do you know the one thing I miss about the convent?”

“The Wellmother’s warm and loving disposition?”

A smile quirked Hanne’s lips, and Nina felt a rush of relief. She could feel the pain radiating from her and she didn’t understand why.

“No mirrors,” Hanne said. “We weren’t meant to be vain or care about our appearance. But this house? I feel like there’s a mirror on every wall.”

“Hanne—”

“Don’t say I look beautiful. Please.”

“Okay, but don’t cry,” Nina said helplessly. She brushed a tear from Hanne’s cheek with her thumb. “You’ll be blotchy for the party.”

“Cry?” said Ylva, bustling through the doorway. “Is something wrong?”

Nina and Hanne jumped at the sound of her voice, and Nina felt a flush heat her face, as if she’d been caught at something.

Hanne mustered a smile and said, “I don’t think Papa is going to approve of this gown.”

“Heartwood is not about your father’s approval,” Ylva said, beaming. “You will be the talk of the ball, and that can only be good for securing a husband.”

Saints, Nina couldn’t stand those words. They’d been playing a game with Heartwood and it hadn’t been without its victories, but what would the end of it mean for Hanne?

They gathered their wraps and joined Ylva to wend their way to the palace. Brum was nowhere to be seen, and Nina wondered if he was hunting Magnus Opjer or if Fjerda’s royal family even knew that their most valuable prisoner was missing.

The ball was held in the same cavernous room where they’d first met the prince, but the place was nearly unrecognizable. White trumpet lilies crowded every surface, wound around columns, twined in chandeliers, their petals spread like bursts of fireworks, their sweet scent thick in the air. Nina felt like she was walking through a tide of honey. Had these flowers simply come from Fjerdan hothouses or had Grisha power made them bloom?

Musicians played, and the buzz of laughter and talk rose and fell in giddy waves. It was as if no one cared a war was looming. No, she realized, it’s that they’re not afraid. They know they’re going to win. The king and queen sat their thrones, watching the proceedings with impassive faces. Nina saw prayer beads clutched in the queen’s left hand.

At the center of the room, above the fountain consecrated to Djel, hung a huge wreath of lilies and green ash boughs. This was life in winter, the Wellspring as the father of renewal, the flowers symbolizing fertility. Nina glanced at Hanne, at the other girls who had been presented at Heartwood, all displayed in their finery, blossoms in their hair. This was the last moment of their girlhood, before they were expected to become wives and mothers.

“They’re eager,” she said, more than a little surprised.

Hanne’s eyes roamed over the girls—some talking, others standing nervously beside their mothers or chaperones, trying to keep from mussing their hair in the heat of the ballroom. “They want to make their parents proud, stop being a burden on their families, manage households of their own.”