Ruin and Rising (The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, #3)

by Leigh Bardugo

“You look like a deranged rooster!”

He dipped his hand in, then yelped and drew back. “They bite.” “Serves you right,” I said. “‘Oh, look, a dark lake full of something shiny. Let me put my hand in it.’” “I can’t help being delicious,”

“We’re going to be traveling together for who knows how long. Eventually, you’re going to have to talk to me.” “I’m talking to you right now.” “See? Is this so terrible?” “It wouldn’t be,” he said, gazing at me steadily, “if all I wanted to do was talk.”

“Oncat scratches me all the time,” said Harshaw as he ambled up beside me. “Oh?” I asked hollowly. “Funny thing is, she likes to stay close.” “Are you being profound, Harshaw?” “Actually, I was wondering, if I ate enough of those fish, would I start to glow?” I shook my head. Of course one of the last living Inferni would have to be insane.

“Huh,” Zoya said to Adrik. “I’m impressed.” At the elation that burst over his face, she groaned. “Never mind. I’m downgrading that to grudging approval.”

“Everyone okay?” Mal asked. “Never better,” said Genya shakily. David raised his hand. “I’ve been better.” We all started laughing. “What?” he said.

Tolya pulled David’s old watch from the pocket of his coat. I wasn’t sure when he’d acquired it. “If this thing is keeping time right, we’re well past sunset.” “You have to wind it every day,” said David. “I know that.” “Well, did you?” “Yes.” “Then it’s keeping time right.” I wondered if I should remind David that Tolya’s fist was roughly the circumference of his head.

“You know, Starkov, I’m beginning to think you turned your hair white on purpose.” I flicked a speck of starlight from my wrist, watching it fade. “Yes, Zoya, courting death is an integral part of my beauty regimen.”

The world seemed suddenly large again. I wasn’t sure I liked it.

“I have a lot of scars,” he said finally. “This is one I chose.”

“What has my country ever done for me, little girl? No land, no life, just a uniform and a gun.

I gasped. “Imposs—” “Don’t say it,” muttered Mal.

“First vomit, then tears,” Nikolai said, coming up beside me. “Don’t tell me I’ve lost my touch.” “I’m just happy you’re alive,” I said, hastily blinking my eyes clear. “Though I’m sure you can talk me out of it.”

I thought why not get the girl—” “And the guns?” He grinned. “Exactly.” “Thank goodness we had the foresight to be captured.”

“I need to know—did you get Baghra out?” “At great trouble and with little thanks. You might have warned me about her.” “She’s a treat, isn’t she?” “Like a fine plague.”

“My cousin Ludovic woke up with a white streak in his hair after he almost died in a house fire. Claimed the ladies found it very dashing. Of course, he also claimed the house fire was set by ghosts, so who can say.”

“Saints, Alina. I hope you weren’t looking to me to be the voice of reason. I keep to a strict diet of ill-advised enthusiasm and heartfelt regret.”

“You never know,” said Nikolai. “I’ve been busy. I might have some surprises in store for the Darkling yet.” “Please tell me you plan to dress up as a volcra and jump out of a cake.”

We touched down with a thud and a deafening screech as hull scraped against stone. David frowned disapprovingly. “Too much weight.” “Don’t look at me,” said Tolya.

“How does he do it?” “Want to know my secret?” Nikolai asked from behind us. We both jumped. He leaned in, looked from left to right, and whispered loudly, “I have a lot of money.” I rolled my eyes. “No, really,” he protested. “A lot of money.”

“Saints,” I swore. “I forgot how often I want to stab you.” “So I haven’t lost my touch.”

Everything here was bursting with life and hope. It all bore Nikolai’s stamp.

He reminded me of the wooden nesting dolls I’d played with as a child. Except instead of getting smaller, he just kept getting grander and more mysterious. Tomorrow, he’d probably tell me he’d built a pleasure palace on the moon. Tough to get to, but quite a view.

“I’d like to see Baghra,” I said. “You’re sure about that?” “Not remotely.” “I’ll take you to her. Good practice should I ever need to walk someone to the gallows.

Thanks for the rescue.” “Everyone needs a hobby.” “I thought yours was preening.” “Two hobbies.”

“There’s not much to do underground besides train.” “I can think of a few more interesting ways to spend one’s time.” “Is that supposed to be innuendo?” “What a filthy mind you have. I was referring to puzzles and the perusal of edifying texts.”

“The little Saint,” she murmured, “returned to save us all.” “Well, she did almost die trying to rid us of your cursed spawn,” Nikolai said lightly. I blinked. So Nikolai knew Baghra was the Darkling’s mother. “Couldn’t even manage martyrdom right, could you?”

“And you,” she spat in Nikolai’s direction. “Go somewhere you’re wanted.” “That’s hardly limiting,” he said. “Alina, I’ll be back to fetch you for dinner, but should you grow restless, do feel free to run screaming from the room or take a dagger to her. Whatever seems most fitting at the time.”

“I don’t reserve my friendship for perfect people. And, thank the Saints, neither does Alina.”

“You are no Lantsov,” snarled the King. Nikolai merely bowed. “I find I can live with that fact.”

“I … I don’t understand half of what goes on around me. I don’t get jokes or sunsets or poetry, but I know metal.” His fingers flexed unconsciously as if he were physically grasping for words. “Beauty was your armor. Fragile stuff, all show. But what’s inside you? That’s steel. It’s brave and unbreakable. And it doesn’t need fixing.”

“Take him with you when you go,” Mal said. “He should see where you come from.” He laughed. “You can introduce him to Ana Kuya.” “I already unleashed Baghra on Nikolai. He’s going to think I stockpile vicious old women.”

For all my talk of vows and honor, what I really want is to put you up against that wall and kiss you until you forget you ever knew another man’s name.

I wanted to apologize for Marie’s death, for putting her in danger, for not being there to save her. But what words were there for that kind of failure? What words could fill the hole where a living girl with chestnut curls and a lilting giggle had been?

“Suffering is cheap as clay and twice as common. What matters is what each man makes of it.

Perfect. Nothing like a little humiliation on an empty stomach.

“Understatement is overrated,” I said on a shaky breath. “I love it when you quote me.” Nikolai tapped the ring. “Console yourself knowing that, should you ever punch me while wearing it, you’ll probably take my eye out. And I’d very much like you to. Wear it, that is. Not punch me.”

“You’ll still make a great king.” “Of course I will,” he scoffed. “I’m melancholy, not daft.”

“Are you going to make a habit of winning arguments? It’s very unbecoming.” “Was this an argument?” “Obviously not. I don’t lose arguments.”

“Toss him over,” Zoya said. “Break his heart cruelly. I will gladly give our poor prince comfort, and I would make a magnificent queen.” I laughed. “You actually might, Zoya. If you could stop being horrible for a minute.” “With that kind of incentive, I can manage a minute. Possibly two.”

Genya tossed a velvet slipper at her. “The day I curtsy to you is the day David performs an opera naked in the middle of the Shadow Fold.”

David’s crime was hunger for knowledge, not power.

She’d thrown a tantrum, as children do. But she’d been no ordinary child.

Her grief is old, I reminded myself. And yet I didn’t think pain like that ever faded entirely. Grief had its own life, took its own sustenance.

“I gave him his pride. I burdened him with ambition, but the worst thing I did was try to protect him.

“Beautiful,” I managed. “I told you I had a lot of money.” “So you arrange celestial events now?” “As a sideline.”

“I could promise to make you forget him,” Nikolai offered. “I’m not sure that’s possible.” “You do realize you’re playing havoc with my pride.” “Your confidence seems perfectly intact.”

you could have pretty much any girl you want.” “A Shu princess? A Kerch banker’s daughter?” “Or a Ravkan heiress or a Grisha like Zoya.” “Zoya? I make it a policy never to seduce anyone prettier than I am.”

“Stop that,” I said, still grinning. “What?” “Saying the right thing.” “I’ll try to wean myself of the habit.”

Maybe love was superstition, a prayer we said to keep the truth of loneliness at bay. I tilted my head back. The stars looked like they were close together, when really they were millions of miles apart. In the end, maybe love just meant longing for something impossibly bright and forever out of reach.