Siege and Storm (The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, #2)

by Leigh Bardugo

THE BOY AND THE GIRL had once dreamed of ships, long ago, before they’d ever seen the True Sea. They were the vessels of stories, magic ships with masts hewn from sweet cedar and sails spun by maidens from thread of pure gold. Their crews were white mice who sang songs and scrubbed the decks with their pink tails.

The ship was their kingdom, and the sea a vast moat that kept their enemies at bay.

He reminds me of the too-clever fox, another of Ana Kuya’s stories, smart enough to get out of one trap, but too foolish to realize he won’t escape a second.

I AM A GIRL, trudging up a hill. My boots squelch in the mud and my back aches from the weight of the salt upon it. When I think I cannot take another step, I feel myself lifted off the ground. The salt slips from my shoulders, and I watch it shatter on the road. I float higher, higher. Below me, I can see a pony cart, the three passengers looking up at me, their mouths open in surprise. I can see my shadow pass over them, pass over the road and the barren winter fields, the black shape of a girl, borne high by her own unfurling wings.

“And if he were? Would you throw yourself into the sea?” “Not unless I could take you with me. Where is he?”

I prick him, you bleed.”

“I’m a gracious host, bloodletter. But every house has rules.”

Ivan scowled. “I don’t think—” “Clearly. Why start now?”

The Darkling just stared out into the waves. I considered shoving him over the railing. Sure, he was hundreds of years old, but could he swim?

“Fear is a powerful ally,” he said. “And loyal.”

It felt wrong, like everything was happening too quickly, as if we were rushing toward something we didn’t understand.

Another harpoon found its target and the sea whip began to sing, a sound more lovely than anything I’d ever heard, a choir of voices lifted in a plaintive, wordless song. No, I realized, not a song. The sea whip was crying out, writhing and rolling in the waves as the longboats gave chase, struggling to shake the hooked tips of the harpoons free. Fight, I pleaded silently. Once he has you, he’ll never let you go.

The wound in my shoulder felt like it was on fire,

“You betrayed the Darkling for money?” “‘Betrayed’ seems a strong word. I hardly know the fellow.”

Besides, I like to have powerful enemies. Makes me feel important.” Mal crossed his arms and considered the privateer. “I can’t decide if you’re crazy or stupid.” “I have so many good qualities,” Sturmhond said. “It can be hard to choose.”

“No. But it’s always wise to keep an open mind.”

“Do you ever answer a question directly?” “Hard to say. Ah, there, I’ve done it again.”

and Sturmhond had a way of talking that made me want to shoot someone. Preferably him.

“Might want to leave him alone,” Sturmhond said. “That type needs plenty of time for brooding and self-recrimination. Otherwise they get cranky.” “Do you take anything seriously?” “Not if I can help it. Makes life so tedious.”

“Now, that’s a word best not used around me. I tend to be overfond of risk.”

“Suit yourself. I have debts to collect. Privyet wagered we wouldn’t be coming back. I swear he looked like a mourner at a funeral when we came over that rail.”

He kissed me once, gently, and though I tried to ignore it, there was something mournful in the brush of his lips.

“Evening, all,” said Sturmhond, slapping his hands together, seemingly oblivious to our somber mood. “Perfect night for tearing a hole in the universe, no?”

“Of course not,” said Sturmhond. “Anything worth doing always starts as a bad idea.”

“Huh,” he murmured. “I thought the end of the world would be more exciting.”

“You were like a stranger, Alina. Beautiful,” he said. “Terrible.”

Losing made me irritable; Mal just laughed it all off.

He just blooms wherever he’s planted.” “And you?” “I’m more of a weed,” I said drily. Tamar grinned. In combat, she was cold and silent fire, but when she wasn’t fighting, her smiles came easily. “I like weeds,” she said, pushing herself off from the railing and gathering her scattered lengths of rope. “They’re survivors.”

“When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable.” With the moonlight gleaming off the lenses of his goggles and his greatcoat billowing around him, he looked like a complete madman.

“Now, Alina!” Sturmhond shouted. “Throw it wide!” I didn’t stop to think. I cast the light out in a blazing wave.

Weird ho she has traded The Darkling commanding her power for Sturmhond.

“Who are you?” Mal asked furiously. “That’s a complicated question.” “Actually, it’s pretty straightforward,” I said, springing to my feet. “But it does require telling the truth. Something you seem thoroughly incapable of.” “Oh, I can do it,” Sturmhond said, shaking water from one of his boots. “I’m just not very good at it.”

“I am Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, Soldier of the King’s Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and second son to His Most Royal Majesty, King Alexander the Third, Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne, may his life and reign be long.”

I hauled off and punched him in the face.