I waited, unsure if I should speak. His eyes were trained on the passing scenery, but his expression was distant.
“When word of the massacre in Novokribirsk and the Darkling’s disappearance got out, all hell broke loose. A group of royal ministers and the palace guard forced their way into the Grand Palace and demanded to see the King. Do you know what they found? My mother cowering in her parlor, clutching that snuffly little dog. And the King of Ravka, Alexander the Third, alone in his bedchamber, barely breathing, lying in his own filth. I let that happen.”
“You couldn’t have known what the Darkling was planning, Nikolai. No one did.”
He didn’t seem to hear me. “The Grisha and oprichniki who held the palace on the Darkling’s orders were caught in the lower town, trying to escape. They were executed.”
I tried to restrain a shudder. “What about the Apparat?” The priest had colluded with the Darkling and might be working with him still. But he’d tried to approach me before the coup, and I’d always thought he might be playing a deeper game.
“Escaped. No one knows how.” His voice was hard. “But he’ll answer for it when the time comes.”
Again I glimpsed the ruthless edge that lurked beneath the polished demeanor. Was that the real Nikolai Lantsov? Or just another disguise?
“You let Genya go,” I said.
“She was a pawn. You were the prize. I had to stay focused.” Then he grinned, his dark mood vanishing as if it had never been. “Besides,” he said with a wink, “she was too pretty for the sharks.”
* * *
RIDING IN THE COACH left me restless, frustrated with the pace Nikolai was setting, and eager to get to the Little Palace. Still, it gave him a chance to help prepare me for our arrival in Os Alta. Nikolai had a considerable stake in my success as the leader of the Second Army, and he always seemed to have some new bit of wisdom he wanted to impart. It was overwhelming, but I didn’t feel I could afford to disregard his advice, and I started to feel like I was back at the Little Palace library, cramming my head full of Grisha theory.
The less you say, the more weight your words will carry.
Don’t argue. Never deign to deny. Meet insults with laughter.
“You didn’t laugh at the Fjerdan captain,” I observed.
“That wasn’t an insult. It was a challenge,” he said. “Know the difference.”
Weakness is a guise. Wear it when they need to know you’re human, but never when you feel it.
Don’t wish for bricks when you can build from stone. Use whatever or whoever is in front of you.
Being a leader means someone is always watching you.
Get them to follow the little orders, and they’ll follow the big ones.
It’s okay to flout expectations, but never disappoint them.
“How am I supposed to remember all of this?” I asked in exasperation.
“You don’t think too much about it, you just do it.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve been groomed for this since the day you were born.”
“I was groomed for lawn tennis and champagne parties,” Nikolai said. “The rest came with practice.”
“I don’t have time for practice!”
“You’ll do fine,” he said. “Just calm down.”
I let out a squawk of frustration. I wanted to throttle him so badly my fingers itched.
“Oh, and the easiest way to make someone furious is to tell her to calm down.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or throw my shoe at him.
Outside the coach, Nikolai’s behavior was getting more and more unnerving. He knew better than to renew his marriage proposal, but it was clear that he wanted people to think there was something between us. With every stop, he grew more bold, standing too close, kissing my hand, pushing my hair back over my ear when it was caught by a breeze.
In Tashta, Nikolai waved to the massive crowd of villagers and pilgrims that had formed by a statue of the town’s founder. As he was helping me back into the coach, he slipped his arm around my waist.
“Please don’t punch me,” he whispered. Then he yanked me hard against his chest and pressed his lips to mine.
The crowd exploded into wild cheers, their voices crashing over us in an exultant roar. Before I could even react, Nikolai shoved me into the shadowy interior of the coach and slipped in after. He slammed the door behind him, but I could still hear the townspeople cheering outside. Mixed in with the cries of “Nikolai!” and “Sankta Alina!” was a new chant: Sol Koroleva, they shouted. Sun Queen.
I could just see Mal through the coach’s window. He was on horseback, working the edge of the crowd, making sure they stayed out of the road. It was clear from his stormy expression that he’d seen everything.
I turned on Nikolai and kicked him hard in the shin. He yelped, but that wasn’t nearly satisfying enough. I kicked him again.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Next time you try something like that, I won’t kick you,” I said angrily. “I’ll cut you in half.”