“I’ve seen her do it,” said Nikolai. “Makes a funny sound.”
“Kind of a pop?” said Tamar.
“Wetter,” Nikolai said. “More of a squelch.”
“I’ll go,” said the monk. “But if I am not returned to my followers safe and unharmed, there will be blood in the streets. There will—”
“Please let me do it,” said Zoya. “No one will miss him.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Nikolai. “I’m sure he has a mother. Right, Yuri? Nice woman. Lives in Valchenko?”
Yuri touched his hand to his chest as if the king had struck him. Apparently Tamar’s spies had gathered plenty of intelligence on this boy.
“I know,” said Nikolai, patting the monk on the shoulder. “Most disconcerting to realize you’re gambling with lives other than your own. Shall we?”
Yuri nodded and Nikolai turned to the crowd.
“We will meet,” he declared, voice booming. “We will talk.” He shrugged. “Perhaps we will argue. But Ravkans need agree on nothing more than the drinking of tea.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the people, still kneeling but grateful now, relieved. Tamar gave the monk her horse and they rode back through the gates.
As soon as they were inside, the Apparat rushed toward them, flanked by Priestguards. “We will take him into custody. I have many a question for this heretic—”
“Yuri Vedenen is my guest,” said Nikolai pleasantly.
“I insist that I be present at his interrogation.”
“What a peculiar name for breakfast.”
“You cannot possibly mean to—”
“Tolya,” Nikolai said, “take our guest to the Iris Suite and make sure he is adequately fed and watered. I’ll join you shortly.” They waited for the monk to be escorted away. It was clear the Apparat was desperate to speak, but before he could open his mouth, Nikolai swung down from his horse. “Priest,” he said, and now his voice held the low, angry thrum of a temper barely leashed. “Do not think that because I’ve let you live this long, I cannot change my mind. Accidents happen. Even to men of faith.”
“Forgive me, Your Highness. But … a creature like this cannot be trusted.”
“Pray go on,” said Zoya. “I’d like to see if an excess of irony can actually kill a man.”
“Why did the monk abandon the Priestguard?” asked Nikolai.
“I don’t know,” admitted the Apparat. “He was a scholar, a good one. Better than that. His theories were unorthodox but brilliant. Then a year ago he vanished without explanation. Until he reappeared on our doorstep preaching this absurd gospel.”
“Do we know where the cult originated?”
“No,” said the Apparat. He sighed. “But I think it was inevitable the people would seek to make the Darkling a 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.
“Very well,” said Nikolai. “We will grant the monk an audience and see what he has to say.”
The Apparat’s eyes protruded almost comically from his head. “You cannot mean to speak with him, to lend his cause such credibility! It is the height of recklessness!”
Though Zoya might well have agreed with the priest, she still wanted to seize his filthy robes and shake him until he recognized he was talking to his king and not some supplicant. Not that she was particularly compliant when it came to Nikolai, but it was the principle of the thing.
Nikolai remained unruffled, his temper forgotten. “Calm yourself, priest. I have no intention of seeing the Darkling called a Saint. But if we can make a friend of this boy, we should, and I intend to get all of the information I can from him in the process.”
“My followers will not like it,” said the Apparat with false regret. “I, of course, understand the need for diplomacy, but they may fear the spiritual corruption of their king.”
“What a tragedy that would be. Perhaps there is a way to appease them and compensate you for this difficult day.”
The Apparat bristled. “The Saints have no need of gold.”
Nikolai looked scandalized. “Nothing so crass.”
“Well,” said the Apparat, making a great show of thinking. “Ulyosk and Ryevost are in need of new churches. The people need to know the king shares their faith, and such a gesture will help strengthen their faith in their ruler.”
After a long moment, Nikolai bobbed his chin. “You will have your churches.”
“They are the Saints’ churches, Your Highness.”
“Then please inform the Saints.”
“Does a king bow so easily to a man with no title?” Zoya asked as they rode away. She had said she would bite her tongue, and she had, but it had left her temper boiling. “You are helping the Apparat build his network of spies. You are making him stronger.”
“At some point, you might consider treating me as something other than a fool. Trust me, Zoya. You may come to enjoy it.”
“That’s what Tamar said about absinthe.”
“And?”
“It still tastes like sugar dipped in kerosene.”
Zoya cast a glance over her shoulder and saw the priest watching them from the city gates, his eyes as dark as pits. Nikolai might joke all he liked, but every concession they made to the Apparat felt like a misstep. The old king, the Darkling, Alina Starkov—they’d all bargained with the priest, and all of them had paid in blood.