King of Scars (King of Scars, #1)

by Leigh Bardugo

“The public may forget how handsome I am.” “I doubt it. Your face is on the money.”

The king’s reputation could withstand a bit of scandal; it would not survive the truth.

If men were ashamed when they should be, they’d have no time for anything else.

“I don’t like that word,” Nina said, advancing. “Call me Grisha. Call me zowa. Call me death, if you like.”

“Well, the Zemeni word for day is can, not cav. Unless you meant to ask how my donkey is going.”

Still, it sometimes felt like Alina was trailing them from room to room, her presence as tangible as the heat of a summer sun, though the girl was long gone.

So sorry, friends. I’m needed in the greenhouses on a matter of national security. No one else can prune the peonies.

Nikolai looked again at the old map of Ravka—violent, hopeless, unappeasable in its constant need. Ravka was his first love, an infatuation that had begun in his lonely boyhood and that had only deepened with age. Whatever it demanded, he knew he would give. He’d been reckless with this country he claimed to love, and he could no longer let his fear dictate Ravka’s future.

He clenched his fists. “Zoya, you will do no such thing. I forbid it. And if I find you’ve acted without my consent, you will lose your rank and can spend the rest of your days teaching Grisha children how to make cloud animals.”

The Darkling had built up the strength of the Second Army over generations, adding to its numbers, improving its training, solidifying his own influence. He had cultivated the talents of young Grisha, helped them to develop their skill. He had raised them like children. And when his children had misbehaved? When his coup attempt had failed and some of the Grisha had dared to stand with Alina Starkov against him? He’d murdered them. Without hesitation or remorse. Zoya had watched them fall. She’d almost been among them.

Even if Alina Starkov herself rose from the Fold ensconced in sunlight to denounce him, the Apparat would still find a way to survive. That’s his gift. Now put on your most devout face, Zoya. You make a darling heretic, but I need you looking pious.”

These were not the ordinary pilgrims who journeyed across the country to pay homage to their Saints; they were not the sun cult that had grown up around Alina Starkov and that often came to the palace walls to honor her. These people wore black. The banners they raised were emblazoned with the sun in eclipse—the Darkling’s symbol. They’d come here to praise the man who had torn Zoya’s life apart. A young cleric stood on a rock. He had the long, wild hair of the Priestguard, but he wore black, not brown.

“This is the Cult of the Starless Saint.”

“Why?” said Zoya. “The common people had no love for him.” “In life, no. In death, a man may become anything at all. He possessed great power and died grandly. Sometimes that is enough.” It shouldn’t be. After everything he did.

“Vengeance was all that drove me at the end of the war. I wanted the Darkling to pay for my arm, for the lives of my friends. I wanted him dead.” “And you got your wish.” “And yet my arm didn’t grow back. None of my friends came back to life.”

Goodbye, Matthias. No one answered. She was alone in the silence.

“So our choices are looking indecisive, weak, or like the capital is swimming in excrement?”

do. But, well, David Kostyk, the great Fabrikator who forged the first amplifier worn by Sankta Alina herself.” David looked at him blankly and returned to his reading. “Zoya Nazyalensky, who was one of the Darkling’s most favored soldiers.” Zoya’s lip curled. “And then, of course, Genya Safin, the First Tailor, who bears the marks of the Darkling’s blessing.”

Yuri’s chin lifted. “For the Starless One, I can wait an eternity. But do not play games with me, Your Highness. I did not come to the capital to be laughed at or to dillydally about.”

“Dally, yes; dilly, no,” said Nikolai. “Gave it up in my youth.”

“Can we blame him for being drawn to the Darkling’s strength? We all were.” “We didn’t know what he was then.”

“It’s fear that makes your father act as he does, that makes men write foolish rules that say you can’t travel alone or ride as you wish to.” The other girl bit back a laugh. “Why should they be afraid? The world belongs to them.” “But think of all the things we might achieve if we were allowed to do the things that they do.”

Fear is a phoenix. Words Liliyana had spoken to her years ago and that Zoya had repeated to others many times. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.

Genya’s lips twitched in a smile. “You’re saying you’ve never wanted to kill Nikolai?” “Oh, I have. I just don’t want him to sleep through it.”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” said Tamar. “And I’ll bring you a present.” “It had better be new goggles,” said Nadia. “I was thinking of something more romantic.” David frowned. “What’s more romantic than goggles?”

“We should send him to Ketterdam to preach to Kaz Brekker and the rest of those reprobates,” suggested Zoya. Nikolai winced. “He’d certainly get his martyrdom.”

“Hand me that brandy,” said Zoya. “I can’t tolerate this degree of stupidity on a clear head.”

Hope was the wind that came from nowhere to fill your sails and carry you home.

Dominik was there when Nikolai took his first bullet, and Nikolai was there when Dominik fell at Halmhend, never to rise again.

“Are you saying my Festival of Autumn Nonsense was a brilliant idea after all?”

“They’ve always liked us better dead,” she said. “No one knows what to do with a living Saint.”

“Of course. Did the Darkling love my aunt who died beside countless innocent civilians in Novokribirsk so that he could show the world his might?” “Leave them be,” Nikolai murmured, laying a hand on her arm. She shook him off. “Did he love the girl he forced to commit those murders? What about the girl he tossed into the old king’s bed for his own purposes, then mutilated when she dared to challenge him? Or the woman he blinded for failing to offer him unswerving devotion?” Who would speak for Liliyana, for Genya and Alina and Baghra if she did not? Who will speak for me?

Who will worship them and light candles in their names?” She felt the unwelcome prickle of tears in the back of her throat and swallowed them down. These people did not deserve her tears, only her anger.

Hell, maybe some part of him had expected the Darkling himself, the Starless Saint resurrected, come to plague them all with charisma and ill intent.

“No, this is the part where the king of Ravka surrenders himself, and the love we never had lives on in ballads and song.”

It will require a great deal of standing up straight, not looking bored through the most tiresome events man can conceive, opening doors, and keeping your buttons shiny, so I would not blame you if you’d prefer literally any other occupation. But if you’ve the courage to face such horrors, you will also find my own tutors happy to school you in the languages of your choosing.

but you are certainly welcome to indulge your taste for Kaelish poetry. I did, and my stomach’s been aching since.

“Then during that delightful cocktail party where you chased us down and tried to set fire to my hair.”

Zoya looked directly at him, her gaze unflinching, and Nikolai knew she was planning a thousand punishments for the dragon. He felt a rush of relief at the promise of retribution in her eyes.

“If these are the Saints,” she said, “then who have we been praying to all this time?”

“Ravka.” He rolled the R in a growl. “You serve a nation of ghosts. All those you failed. All those you will continue to fail until you become what you were meant to be.”

“But it’s a very arduous path,” Nikolai said. “Who will carry my snacks?”

“And here I thought the king would just have to eat candy and perform a monologue.” “I’ve already prepared some selections,” said Nikolai.

He’d graduated from minor breaches of etiquette to nearly getting himself and someone else drowned. Perhaps tomorrow he’d manage to burn down the palace.

“Can you forgive us?” Juris asked. “For being foolish? For being frail? For being fallible despite our great powers? Can you forgive yourself?” For loving the Darkling. For following him. For failing to save Liliyana. For failing to protect the Second Army. The list of her crimes was too long.

was just so excited,” Isaak said. He pulled off his left boot and watched it spill what looked like half a lake onto the carpet. “Finally something went wrong and I had nothing to do with it.”

‘Beware of power, Zoya. There is no amount of it that can make them love you.’”

He found he did not want to think of Zoya’s lovers. “And what did I do to earn the truth?” “Offered me a country and faced imminent death?”

In that moment, he wished things might have been different. That he might not die tomorrow. That he could be led by his heart instead of duty. Because Zoya was not kind and she was not easy. But she was already a queen.

One could plot violent espionage and still hope for dessert.