“Yes,” said Genya. “We find work in the field is so beneficial for a child’s education. And I must say I’m not sorry for the peace and quiet. Young Grisha can be quite high-spirited, as I’m sure you can imagine. We didn’t want them getting underfoot with such important new friends visiting.”
Isaak had never known the Grisha students to be underfoot. They were kept busy, and the school was isolated enough from the rest of the palace that they would have had trouble getting anywhere without notice. No, they’d been moved for their safety. And the Fjerdans knew it.
“You evacuated all of them?” the ambassador asked coldly.
“Evacuated?” said Genya with an amused laugh. “That would imply there was some kind of threat.” She tapped the ambassador on the knee playfully. “A threat! To a group of children who could set fire to this barge and stop the hearts of everyone on it with the sweep of a hand.” She dabbed at her eyes. “It is too droll.”
Isaak turned to Genya as the Fjerdans walked to the sloop’s railing to enjoy the view and possibly to seethe. “You sent the students away to protect them?”
“Of course,” said Genya, all mirth gone. “You think we would keep one of Ravka’s greatest assets here when a bomb or poison gas could eliminate an entire new generation of Grisha in moments? But a fearful Fjerdan is one less likely to act, and I just relish the idea of them having bad dreams about a bunch of schoolchildren.”
Isaak gave a slight shake of his head. “Listening to you talk is like watching a sailor who knows the secret shape of a bay, all of the places where storms strike, and the rocky spots where ships run aground. You navigate these waters with such surety.”
Genya was quiet for a long time. “I was thrown into the water early,” she said. “The Darkling gave me to the queen of Ravka as a gift when I was just a little girl, a pretty thing who could be of service to her.”
“Then you knew the king as a boy?”
“I saw him and his brother in passing. I was a cherished servant, but a servant all the same. They were very loud.” She toyed with one of her topaz earrings. “The household staff used to call them the Two Headaches. How I envied them, the way they were free to run and play and make trouble.”
“But to be a favorite of the queen,” said Isaak. “That must have been a great honor?”
Genya popped a slice of plum into her mouth. “For a time, I was the queen’s doll. She would dress me in lovely clothes and brush my hair and let me sleep at the foot of her bed and sit beside her at meals. I watched the sharks and learned. When I grew older, and I had the misfortune of catching the old king’s eye …” Genya wiped her fingers slowly on a linen napkin, the leavings of the plum staining the cloth. “I convinced myself that the suffering I endured was an honor because I was the Darkling’s soldier and his spy. He trusted me above all others, and one day all would know the good I’d done him. He could not have managed his coup so easily without the information I fed him.”
Isaak stared at her. “You are confessing to treason,” he whispered.
“Sweet Isaak,” she said with a smile. “Nikolai Lantsov pardoned me long ago, and in that moment he earned my loyalty forever. The Darkling threw me into the water, then watched me drown to serve his own purposes.”
“So he was as cruel as the stories say?”
“Cruel? Oh yes. But he didn’t leave me to the king’s predations to punish me. He just never even considered my misery. What was the anguish of one girl if it might help to earn him an empire? He was playing a long and complicated game. It was only when I dared to think for myself, when I interfered with his grand plan, that he set his monsters on me and—”
A loud splash sounded from somewhere on the lake. They stood in time to see a billow of yellow silk sinking beneath the surface near a barge crowded with members of the Kerch delegation. One of the merchant’s daughters had fallen into the water and was sinking fast.
“Jump in,” whispered Genya furiously. “Go save her.”
“There are Grisha—”
“Nikolai wouldn’t wait for the Grisha.”
She was right, but … “I can’t swim.”
“Please tell me you mean that metaphorically.”
“Afraid not,” he said, panic rising.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It never came up!”
“Just jump,” said Genya. “And don’t you dare flail. Sink as fast as you can and we’ll do the rest.”
Isaak couldn’t believe she was serious, but one look at her expression made it clear this was no joke. Well, he thought as he leapt onto the railing and launched himself into the water with what he hoped was a modicum of grace, at least if I drown, I won’t have to sit through dinner.
The water was bitterly cold, and as he sank, everything in Isaak’s body demanded that he move, fight, do something to get back to warmth and air. Do not flail. He remained still, the ache building in his lungs as panic began to set in. He looked up, up, to the dim glow of light at the surface. It seemed impossibly far away, the lake dark and silent around him, an endless, starless sky. A rotten place to die. Is this it? he wondered. Am I really going to drown to preserve the king’s reputation as a hero?
Then Nadia had hold of his arm. She was surrounded by a bubble of air that she had created and that two Tidemakers beside her were propelling forward. She yanked him into the circle of air and he took a long, gasping breath.
“Come on,” she said. He felt the current around him moving, dragging them along like a fast-running river.
A bundle of yellow silk billowed in the water ahead of them. The girl—Birgitta Schenck—wasn’t moving. Her eyes were closed and her hair was splayed around her face like a corona. Oh Saints, was she dead?
“Grab her,” said Nadia, and as soon as his hand closed over her wrist, they were shooting through the water again.
They emerged on the opposite side of the tiny island at the lake’s center, away from the pleasure crafts. Tolya and Tamar were waiting. They pulled Birgitta onto the steps of one of the practice pavilions and began the work of trying to revive her.
“Please tell me she’s alive,” said Isaak.
“There’s a pulse,” replied Tolya. “But there’s water in her lungs.”
A moment later, Birgitta coughed, lake water spewing from her lips.
“Scatter,” commanded Tolya.
“Be charming,” Tamar said as she disappeared with the others into the mist. “You’re a hero.”
Isaak bent over the girl, trying to remember that it would be the king’s face she would see. “Miss Schenck?” he said. “Birgitta? Are you quite well?”
Her long lashes fluttered. She looked up at him with dazed green eyes and burst out crying.
Well. Perhaps being handsome wasn’t a cure for everything.
“You almost drowned,” he said. “You’ve cause to be emotional. Come, we must get you warm.”
Isaak felt frozen and exhausted too, but he forced himself to do what he thought would look best. He slipped his arm beneath the girl’s legs and lifted her into his arms. All Saints, she was heavy. Was so much silk really necessary?