Elizaveta nodded. “Then you know the old ritual.”
“It is true, then,” cried Yuri. “All of it. This is the site of the thorn wood where the first Priestguard came.”
“Congratulations, Yuri,” Nikolai said. “Looks like you do get to put me on a pyre.”
“Pyre?” asked Grigori.
“No pyre,” said Elizaveta. “The thorn wood is older than all of us, older than the first magic. It is the wood from which the first altars were made and from which the walls of the Little Palace were constructed. I can raise it from the roots that survive beneath the Fold to begin the ritual, but then it will be up to you to summon the monster from inside and slay it.”
“You created those miracles,” said Zoya. “The bridge, the roses, the earthquake, the bleeding statues, the black disk, all of them, to bring us here.”
“The Age of Saints,” Yuri declared. “Just as he promised.”
Elizaveta’s vine curled a bit more tightly around the monk’s shoulders. “Our power can still reach beyond the limits of the Fold, but only in the places where we are still worshipped.”
“A Grisha’s power doesn’t rely on faith,” Zoya said angrily.
“Are you so sure, little witch?” asked Juris.
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.
But he couldn’t afford to get caught up in the mechanics of Grisha power. “You say you want me to summon the monster, but the thing inside me doesn’t follow orders.”
“Then you must teach it to,” said Juris.
Elizaveta clasped her hands and roses bloomed over her wrists, enveloping her fingers. “Once the thorns rise, they will pierce your body. If you don’t vanquish the shadow inside you, they will burn you from the inside out.”
Quite a bit like Sankt Feliks of the Apple Boughs after all. Suddenly, the pyre didn’t sound so bad. “Thank goodness I’m not ticklish.”
“What are the chances he’ll survive?” Zoya asked.
Roses flowered over Elizaveta’s shoulders. “As Juris said, we have no wish to destabilize Ravka.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is … perilous,” Elizaveta conceded. “There are means we can use to prepare you for the trial, but I cannot promise you will emerge unscathed.”
“Or that you will emerge at all,” said Juris.
Elizaveta sighed. “Is it necessary to cast this in the least favorable light?”
“It’s best they know.”
Nikolai shifted on the stone chair. It had not been made for comfort. “So after you skewer and roast me and I wrestle with my actual demons, what happens?”
“The Darkling’s power will be eradicated once and for all. The boundaries of the Unsea will break. Life will return to the Fold, and we will be free.”
“Free to do what exactly?” Zoya asked. It was the right question. She might be mourning her lost amplifier, but she was always a general. And perhaps Nikolai was too desperate for a cure to think like a king. Maybe power of the kind they’d just witnessed should be contained.
“Don’t you know, little witch?” said Juris. “Great power always has a price.”
Elizaveta gave a single nod of her head. “When we leave the bounds of the Fold, we will be mortal once more.”
“Mortal?” Zoya asked.
“Otkazat’sya, you would say. Without Grisha power. Humans who will live brief lives and die permanent deaths.”
Zoya’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you give up such power?”
“Do not think it is an easy choice,” said Elizaveta, some bitterness in her voice. “We have spent hundreds of years in debate over it. But we cannot go on in such a way. This is what the universe demands for freedom from this half life.”
“One eternity is enough,” said Juris. “I want to walk the world once more. Return to the shores of my homeland. Maybe fall in love again. I want to swim in the sea and lie in the sun. I want to age and die and pass into realms I have never explored.”
“You should understand,” said Grigori. “It is not just your life at risk, but your country as well. If we fail, if you cannot endure the ritual, we might create another tear in the world and cause this blighted place to overspill its shores.”
“But that may happen anyway,” said Elizaveta. “Everything is connected, tied to the making at the heart of the world. As the power within you grows stronger, there’s no way to tell what kind of chain reaction it might trigger.”
“You will want to discuss it,” said Grigori. “But make your choices quickly. Merzost is unpredictable, and every day the monster inside you takes firmer hold.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Nikolai said. They had their answers, and time was short. “When do we begin?”
THAT NIGHT, NINA STAYED AWAKE as Leoni’s breathing turned deep and even. Sleep tugged at her, but she plaited her hair in the dark and waited, hoping to hear sounds of activity drift through the narrow window above her bed. Sure enough, just after midnight, she heard low voices and a cart being loaded. Nina stood on tiptoe and saw lanterns lit in the laundry and the Springmaidens carrying stacks of what she assumed was clothing wrapped in paper and string.
Nina hurried to the convent dining hall—a place with a strict schedule that she knew Hanne could always count upon to be empty at specific times. If an unhappy novitiate was looking for a safe spot to stash clothing, this would be an obvious place for it. She got on her knees and made her way around the perimeter of the hall, lightly rapping her knuckles against the slate tiles of the floor. She’d nearly given up hope when her knock returned an odd, echoing thunk. Hollow.
She wedged her fingers under the tile and pulled it up. Boots, military-issue trousers, two hats, a gun belt, and—thank the Saints—a long pale blue pinafore and white blouse. Nina yanked them over her clothes, pinned her braids into a messy crown, and slipped into the kitchens, where a long search revealed the cook’s key beneath a flour tin. By the time she’d unlocked the kitchen door and made it out to the yard, the Springmaidens were shutting the doors to the wagon and on their way.
Nina knew where they were headed, so she didn’t bother with the road, cutting through the trees and taking a more direct route to the main entrance of the old fort instead. She also knew she was being reckless. She should have included Adrik and Leoni in her plans. She should have waited to perform more reconnaissance. But here was the reality: They couldn’t stay in G?fvalle much longer without drawing suspicion. The Women of the Well could lose their access to the fort at any time. And, if Nina was honest with herself, she needed to act. She needed to know why those whispers had brought her to this place and what had happened up on that hill. The dead hadn’t spoken to Adrik or Leoni. They had called to Nina—and she intended to answer.