“And you?” Nina asked.

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

Hanne cast her a single glance. “I want to throw you onto my horse and ride as fast and as far away from here as we can get. Not sidesaddle.”

Before Nina could even think of a reply, Hanne was drifting toward the refreshments table.

Nina watched the long line of her back. She had that same startled feeling she’d had when Joran discovered her in the drüskelle sector. Did Hanne mean it? Or had she just been joking? Nina set her hands on her hips. She damned well intended to ask. Because yes, she was a soldier and a spy and her duty belonged to Ravka, but … but the idea of riding into a new world with Hanne Brum was not a chance you just let slip by.

No sooner was Nina at Hanne’s side than Joran appeared to take them to the prince. Ylva shooed them on their way with a happy smile and a wink. She was delighted at the attention her daughter had garnered from Prince Rasmus. Hanne and Nina had visited with him every day this week, and Hanne had begun to heal the prince aggressively. There were talks of an alliance forming between Fjerda and West Ravka to unseat Nikolai, and Nina had to hope that a healthy prince might dare to face Brum and finally assert himself as a king-to-be. If she just had a little more time, she might be able to turn both Rasmus and his mother toward peace.

As for Joran, Nina knew that if he’d spoken a word to Jarl Brum, she would have long since been dragged away in chains. The prince’s guard gave no indication of what he’d seen or the conversation they’d shared.

The crown prince had staked out an entire corner of the ballroom to himself beneath an arched alcove. The lilies were so heavy here it was as if they’d entered some kind of enchanted bower, and Rasmus looked every inch the fairy prince, lording over the caves of Istamere. His color was high, his shoulders straight. Quite a change from the week before, when he’d suddenly lost so much of his vigor. Nina almost felt guilty, but that feeling evaporated when she thought of the bombs that had fallen on Os Alta, when she remembered him striking Joran, that excited laugh escaping his lips. He held court amid a group of lords and ladies but had eyes only for Hanne as she approached.

“All the works of Djel,” the prince exclaimed. “You look extraordinary, Hanne.”

Hanne curtsied and smiled, any hint of wild rebellion, of galloping away from the Ice Court to freedom, gone. Despite her short hair and her scandalous gown, she radiated demure Fjerdan womanhood. What an actress she’d become. Nina hated it.

“Go,” said Rasmus, waving his hand at the courtiers who had gathered around him. “I want no distraction from gazing at this marvelous creature.”

The nobles left with a few knowing glances directed Hanne’s way, but they made no objections, accustomed to obeying the prince’s whims.

“You look well too, Enke Jandersdat,” said Joran as Hanne and Nina settled on the low chairs before Rasmus.

“Poor Joran,” said the prince. “Do you think I’ve been rude ignoring Mila in her cheap silver sparkles?” Joran’s cheeks flamed bright red, and Rasmus’ brows rose. “Has my loyal guard been struck by an infatuation? She’s too old for you, Joran, and you’re here to be my vicious bodyguard, not moon over a fishwife.”

Nina gave a merry laugh. She didn’t care what the prince thought of her, and she understood that the remark about her gown was a jab at Brum, who had paid for it.

“Now you are being unkind, Your Highness,” she said. “But I am happy to orbit Hanne’s sun. You’re looking very well yourself, if I may say so.”

“You may—though you will make our friend Joran jealous. Perhaps you should pay him a compliment too.”

Nina smiled at Joran. Your secret is safe with me. “You look slightly less stern tonight, Joran.”

“Does he?” Prince Rasmus mused. “Maybe a bit around the forehead.”

“It’s quite a crush tonight,” said Hanne. “I’ve never seen this ballroom so full.”

“They all want to gawk at me, and I’m happy to let them. And of course, everyone wants to talk about the war.”

“I see Vadik Demidov here, but not the Apparat,” said Nina.

“Demidov is happiest at a party, eating someone else’s food and drinking someone else’s wine. As for the priest, he’s been most secretive lately. Your father isn’t happy about it. He wants my family to banish him back to Ravka or the underside of whatever rock will have him.”

A glorious idea, thought Nina. The less she saw of the priest, the better.

“And what will your family do?” Nina asked.

Rasmus grimaced. “My mother has become strangely superstitious and won’t part with the priest. She’s in Djel’s chapel day and night.”

I just bet. But Nina left it to Hanne to say, “Oh?”

Rasmus lowered his voice and leaned in. “She doesn’t want to let Brum bomb any more civilian targets. She’s talking like some kind of peasant who claims to see the face of Djel in a loaf of bread. Saying that the spirits of the dead spoke to her and that Djel will make me sick again—just because I backslid a bit.”

Hanne’s eyes dropped guiltily away and she touched her fingers to a spray of lilies in a silver vase.

“Perhaps it’s superstition,” said Nina. “But if it was Brum’s choice to bomb the city, you could choose a new policy and show him you have other plans for Fjerda’s future.”

“Interesting,” Rasmus said, assessing first Nina and then Hanne. “The fishwife has discovered politics. She’s criticizing your father’s strategies, Hanne. What do you think of that?”

Hanne cocked her head to the side, considering. “I think strong men show strength, but great men show strength tempered by compassion.”

Rasmus laughed. “You have a gift for diplomacy, Hanne Brum. And I do like taking a larger role in our military decisions. Though I can tell you our generals were most surprised to see me join their meetings.”

That was good. At least Nina hoped so. Better than Brum. That’s all we need. Strength tempered by compassion. A prince who might choose peace over war if given the chance.

“I’m glad you felt well enough to attend,” said Hanne.

“I admit I enjoyed it. We spent most of the time discussing plans for a fascinating addition to our armory.”