Rule of Wolves (King of Scars, #2)

by Leigh Bardugo

She had learned the practice of deception from Kaz Brekker himself, and there was no greater teacher.

“It is what I wish. Would you deny me?” I would push you into the sea and do a jig as you drowned.

Tell me it’s more than war and worry that makes you speak those words. Tell me what they would mean if you weren’t a king and I weren’t a soldier. But she didn’t want to hear any of that, not really. Sweet words and grand declarations were for other people, other lives. She brushed the hair back from his face, placed a kiss on his forehead. “I would stay forever if I could,” she whispered. He wouldn’t remember anyway.

“That’s right,” said Tolya. His eyes gleamed like coins in the last of the afternoon sun. “‘Let the hounds give chase. I do not fear death, because I command it.’”

Go, he told the demon inside him. It’s time to hunt.

He saw the demon reflected in his enemy’s eyes. I am the monster and the monster is me.

Go home and tell them what you’ve seen, Nikolai thought as the demon soared through the night. Make them believe you. Tell them the demon king rules Ravka now and vengeance is coming.

“Maybe so,” he said. “But Ketterdam is the right place to gamble.”

Because I am greedy for the sight of you. Because the prospect of facing this war, this loss, without you fills me with fear. Because I find I don’t want to fight for a future if I can’t find a way to make a future with you.

She could almost hear Kaz laughing at her. Shut up, Brekker. Talk to me when you’ve done something about that terrible haircut. Maybe he had by now. She hoped so for Inej’s sake.

He had the pallor and charisma of a glass of milk.

“You miss it, don’t you?” she asked. “I do. Maybe if this all goes to hell and Vadik Demidov takes my crown, I’ll simply return to being Sturmhond. I can serve my country without wearing a crown.” He was unnerved by how much the idea appealed to him.

“And if fate doesn’t give us the chance, we steal it.” “Ketterdam is rubbing off on you.” A small smile curled her lips. “But I think I believe you. Maybe it’s the coat.”

Nikolai winked at her. “It’s not the coat.” “Come closer so I can push you into the canal.” “I think not.”

“Better to get fat on information than starve on good manners. Shall we?”

Jesper shrugged. “What can I say? I have a naturally honest disposition.” “And I have a golden top hat,” grumbled Kaz.

“I have a conscience,” said Kaz. “It just knows when to keep its mouth shut.” Jesper snorted. “If you have a conscience, it’s gagged and tied to a chair somewhere.”

“Your heart does not belong to you alone. When this is over, when it is all over, remember where you came from.” “The king—” “I speak of queens, not kings, tonight. Remember, daughter.” Then she vanished into the shadows.

“The Suli never forget their own, General Nazyalensky. Just like crows.”

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.”

“Tell me, Brekker, do you believe in monsters?” “Of all kinds.” “Prepare to meet another.”

Kaz raised his cane as the shadow emerged, taking shape in the air before them. “All the Saints and their ugly mothers.”

Show them weakness when they need to see it, never when you feel it. Words of advice he’d given to Alina years ago. This seemed like an excellent time to take it. For once in his life, he was going to embrace understatement.

“A word of advice, from one bastard to another: Sometimes it’s best to let the demon have its day.”

All Saints, Nikolai thought. I’m lying next to Zoya Nazyalensky. Somewhere Count Kirigin was crying into his soup.

“I would choose you.” The words were out before he thought better of them, and then there was no way to pull them back. Silence stretched between them.

Perhaps the floor will open and I’ll plummet to my death, he thought hopefully.

“As your general?” Her voice careful. She was offering him a chance to right the ship, to take them back to familiar waters. And a fine general you are. There could be no better leader. You may be prickly, but that’s what Ravka...

“I would make you my queen because I want you. I want you all the time.”

“As your general, I should tell you that would be a terrible decision.” He turned onto his side. They were facing each other now. “As your king, I should tell you that no one could dissuade me. No prince and no power could make me stop wanting you.”

Opjer laughed, and Nikolai felt a chill race up his spine. That was his laugh. “I’m not nearly so self-sacrificing. No, I will go to Novyi Zem. I have money. I have time. I’ll live a new life there. Maybe I’ll have myself tailored and really start fresh.” “A shame,” said Nikolai. “We’re extremely handsome.” Opjer grinned. “Think of all the poor souls who will never look on this face.”

But all those lives were gone, vanished at each crossroads, with each choice he’d made. He’d given them up for Ravka. Would it be worth it in the end?

They surrounded the tank, watching as the demon and the khergud sped toward impact. “We’re going to watch them die,” said Tolya. “Everyone mourns the first blossom,” Mayu said softly. “Who will weep for the rest that fall?” “I will remain to sing for you,” Tamar continued the poem. Tolya placed a hand to his heart. “Long after the spring has gone.”

There were tears in Tolya’s eyes. “May the Saints watch over you, Nikolai,” he said. “You die a king.”

“I will kneel to only one ruler, and I will see only one person crowned this day. The age of the Lantsovs is over.” He sank to one knee. “Let the Nazyalensky dynasty begin. All hail the Dragon Queen.”

Who might he have been if the world had been kinder? If Ravka had been better to its people all along?

There were ghosts in this room, phantoms who would never be laid to rest. They would walk this new path with her—Liliyana, David, Isaak, Harshaw, Marie, Paja, Fedyor, Sergei. The list was long and would only grow longer. You cannot save them all. No, but she could try to be a good queen. The little girl would always be there, frightened and angry, and Zoya would never forget her, or how it felt to be powerless and alone, even if she was not alone now.

But maybe that was the trick of it: to survive, to dare to stay alive, to forge your own hope when all hope had run out.

For the survivors then, Zoya whispered to herself as the people before her knelt and chanted her name. And for the lost.