“I promise.” The words were more sob than sound.
“I have been made to protect you. Even in death, I will find a way.” He clasped her hand tighter. “Bury me so I can go to Djel. Bury me so I can take root and follow the water north.”
“I promise, Matthias. I’ll take you home.”
“Nina,” he said, pressing her hand to his heart. “I am already home.”
The light vanished from his eyes. His chest stilled beneath her hands.
Nina screamed, a howl that tore from the black space where her heart had beat only moments before. She searched for his pulse, for the light and force that had been Matthias. If I had my power. If I’d never taken parem. If I had parem. She felt the river around her, the black waters of grief. She reached into the cold.
Matthias’ chest rose, his body shook.
“Come back to me,” she whispered. “Come back.”
She could do this. She could give him a new life, a life born of that deep water. He was no ordinary man. He was Matthias, her brave Fjerdan.
“Come back ,” she demanded. He breathed. His eyelids fluttered and opened. His eyes shone black.
“Matthias,” she whispered. “Speak my name.”
“Nina.”
His voice, his beautiful voice. It was the same. She clutched his hand, searching for him in that black gaze. But his eyes had been the ice of the north, palest blue, pure. This was all wrong.
Inej was kneeling beside her. “Let him go, Nina.”
“I can’t.”
Inej placed her arm around Nina’s shoulder. “Let him go to his god.”
“He should be here with me.”
Nina touched his cold cheek. There must be a way to take this back, to make this right. How many impossible things had they accomplished together?
“You will meet him again in the next life,” said Inej. “But only if you suffer this now.”
They were twin souls, soldiers destined to fight for different sides, to find each other and lose each other too quickly. She would not keep him here. Not like this.
“In the next life then,” she whispered. “Go.” She watched his eyes close once more. “Farvell ,” she said in Fjerdan. “May Djel watch over you until I can once more.”
M atthias was dreaming again. Dreaming of her. The storm raged around him, drowning out Nina’s voice. And yet his heart was easy. Somehow he knew that she would be safe, she would find shelter from the cold. He was on the ice once more, and somewhere he could hear the wolves howling. But this time, he knew they were welcoming him home.
W ylan sat between Alys and Jesper in a pew near the front of the church. The Ravkans, Shu, and Fjerdans had gotten themselves into a tangle of a fistfight that had left several soldiers bruised and bleeding and the Fjerdan ambassador with a dislocated shoulder. There was angry talk of trade sanctions and retribution on all sides. But for now, some semblance of order had been restored. Most of the auction goers had long since fled or been ushered out by the stadwatch . The Shu had departed, issuing threats of military action for the death of one of their citizens.
The Fjerdans had apparently marched to the doors of the Stadhall to demand that Matthias Helvar be found and arrested, only to be informed that emergency plague measures prohibited public assembly. They were to return to their embassy immediately or risk being forcibly removed from the streets.
People were bruised and concussed, and Wylan had heard that one woman’s hand had been crushed when she’d gotten knocked to the floor during the panicked rush to the cathedral door. But few went to the clinics or hospitals for care. No one wanted to risk exposure to the plague that was spreading through the Barrel. Only the Merchant Council and a few of the stadwatch remained near the altar, arguing in hushed tones that occasionally rose to something more like shouting.
Wylan, Jesper, Alys, and her maid were bracketed by stadwatch , and Wylan hoped Kaz had been right to insist he remain at the church. He wasn’t sure if he felt like the officers were there to protect him or keep him under watch. By the way Jesper kept drumming his fingers on his knees, Wylan suspected he was feeling equally nervous. It didn’t help that it hurt every time Wylan breathed or that his head felt like a timpani being savaged by an overenthusiastic percussionist.
He was a mess, there had nearly been a riot, and Ketterdam’s reputation was in tatters, and yet Wylan had to smile to himself.
“What are you so happy about?” Jesper asked.
Wylan glanced at Alys and whispered, “We did it. And I know Kaz had his own motives, but I’m pretty sure that we just helped prevent a war.” If Ravka had won the auction, the Shu or the Fjerdans would have found some excuse to launch an attack on Ravka to get their hands on Kuwei. Now Kuwei would be safe, and even if someone else eventually developed parem , the Ravkans might soon be on their way to developing an antidote.
“Probably,” said Jesper, his teeth flashing white. “What’s one little international incident among friends?”
“I think Keeg may have broken my nose.”
“And after Genya made it so nice and straight.”
Wylan hesitated. “You can go if you need to. I know you must be worried about your father.”
Jesper glanced at the stadwatch . “I’m not sure our new pals would just let me walk out of here. Besides, I don’t want anyone following me to him.”
And Wylan had heard Kaz tell Jesper to stay.
Alys rubbed a hand over her belly. “I’m hungry,” she said, glancing over to where the Merchant Council were still arguing. “When do you think we’ll get to go home?”
Wylan and Jesper exchanged a glance.
At that moment, a young man raced up the aisle of the cathedral and handed a sheaf of papers to Jellen Radmakker. They bore the pale green seal of the Gemensbank, and Wylan suspected they would show that all of the Merchant Council’s money had been funneled from a false jurda fund directly into an account intended for the Shu.
“This is madness!” shouted Van Eck. “You can’t possibly believe any of it!”
Wylan stood to get a better look, then sucked in a breath at the sharp clap of pain from his ribs. Jesper put a hand out to steady him. But what Wylan saw near the podium drove all thoughts of pain from his mind: A stadwatch officer was clapping shackles on his father, who was thrashing like a fish caught on a line.
“It’s Brekker’s work,” said Van Eck. “He set up the fund. Find the farmer. Find Pekka Rollins. They’ll tell you.”
“Stop making a spectacle of yourself,” Radmakker whispered furiously. “For the sake of your family, show some self-control.”
“Self-control? When you have me in chains?”
“Be calm, man. You’ll be taken to the Stadhall to await charges. Once you’ve paid your bail—”
“Bail? I am a member of the Merchant Council. My word—”
“Is worth nothing!” snapped Radmakker, as Karl Dryden bristled in a way that reminded Wylan distinctly of Alys’ terrier when he spotted a squirrel. “You should be grateful we don’t throw you in Hellgate right now. Seventy million kruge of the Council’s money has vanished. Kerch has been made a laughingstock. Do you have any idea of the damage you caused today?”
Jesper sighed. “We do all the work and he gets all the credit?”
“What is happening?” Alys asked, reaching for Wylan’s hand. “Why is Jan in trouble?”