فصل 15

15

MATTHIAS

A crowd had gathered outside the tavern, drawn by the sounds of breaking glass and trouble. Zoya lowered Nina and Matthias none-too-gently to the floor, and they were herded quickly out the back of the tavern, surrounded by a small segment of the armed men. The rest remained in the tavern to offer whatever explanations could be given for the fact that a bunch of bones had just flown through the marketplace and shattered the building’s windows. Matthias wasn’t even sure he understood what had happened. Had Nina controlled those false Saints’ relics? Had it been something else altogether? And why had they been attacked?

Matthias thought they would emerge into an alley, but instead they descended a series of ancient-looking steps into a dank tunnel. The old canal, Matthias realized as they climbed aboard a boat that passed soundlessly through the dark. It had been paved over but not entirely filled in. They were traveling beneath the broad thoroughfare that fronted the embassy.

Only a few moments later, Zoya led them up a narrow metal ladder and into a bare room with a ceiling so low Matthias had to bend double.

Nina said something to Zoya in Ravkan and then translated Zoya’s reply for Matthias. “It’s a half room. When the embassy was built, they created a false floor four feet above the original floor. The way it’s set into the foundation, it’s almost impossible to know there’s another room beneath you.”

“It’s little more than a crawl space.”

“Yes, but Ketterdam’s buildings don’t have basements, so no one would ever think to search below.”

It seemed an extreme precaution in what was supposed to be a neutral city, but perhaps the Ravkans had been forced to take extreme measures to protect their citizens. Because of people like me. Matthias had been a hunter, a killer, and proud to do his job well.

A moment later, they came upon a group of people huddled together against what Matthias thought might be the eastern wall if he hadn’t gotten completely turned around.

“We’re under the embassy garden,” said Nina.

He nodded. This would be the safest place to keep a group of people if you didn’t want to risk voices rising through the embassy floor. There were about fifteen of them, all ages and colors. They seemed to have little in common beyond their wary expressions, but Matthias knew they must all be Grisha. They hadn’t needed Nina’s warning to seek sanctuary.

“So few?” Matthias said. Nina had estimated the number of Grisha in the city as closer to thirty.

“Maybe the others got out on their own or are just lying low.”

Or perhaps they’d already been captured. If Nina did not wish to speak the possibility, he wouldn’t either.

Zoya led them through an archway to an area where Matthias was relieved to be able to stand upright. Given the round shape of the room, he suspected they were beneath some kind of false cistern or maybe a folly in the garden. His relief dissolved when one of Zoya’s armed men produced a pair of shackles, and Zoya pointed directly at Matthias.

Immediately, Nina stepped in front of him, and she and Zoya began arguing in furious whispers.

Matthias knew exactly who he was dealing with. Zoya Nazyalensky was one of the most powerful witches in Ravka. She was a legendary Squaller, a soldier who had served first the Darkling, then the Sun Summoner, and who had ascended to power as a member of King Nikolai’s Grisha Triumvirate. Now that he’d experienced a taste of her abilities for himself, he wasn’t surprised at how quickly she’d risen.

The argument was entirely in Ravkan, and Matthias didn’t understand a word of it, but the scorn in Zoya’s voice was obvious, as were her jabbing gestures toward Matthias and the shackles. He was ready to growl that if the storm witch wanted him locked up, she could try doing it herself and see what happened, when Nina held up her hands.

“No more,” she said in Kerch. “Matthias remains free and we continue this conversation in a language we all understand. He has a right to know what’s going on.”

Zoya’s eyes narrowed. She looked from Matthias to Nina and then, in heavily accented Kerch, she said, “Nina Zenik, you are still a soldier of the Second Army, and I am still your commanding officer. You are directly disobeying orders.”

“Then you’ll just have to put me in chains too.”

“Don’t think I’m not considering it.”

“Nina!” The cry came from a redheaded girl who had appeared in the echoing room.

“Genya!” Nina whooped. But Matthias would have known this woman without any introduction. Her face was covered in scars, and she wore a red silk eye patch embroidered with a golden sunburst. Genya Safin—the renowned Tailor, Nina’s former instructor, and another member of the Triumvirate. As Matthias watched them embrace, he felt sick. He’d expected to meet a group of anonymous Grisha, people who had taken refuge in Ketterdam and then found themselves alone and in danger. People like Nina—not Ravka’s highest-ranking Grisha. All his instincts called on him to fight or to be gone from this place as fast as possible, not to stand there like a suitor meeting his beloved’s parents. And yet, these were Nina’s friends, her teachers. They’re the enemy, said a voice in his head, and he wasn’t sure if it was Commander Brum’s or his own.

Genya stepped back, brushing the blonde strands of Nina’s wig from her face to get a better look at her. “Nina, how is this possible? The last time Zoya saw you—”

“You were throwing a tantrum,” said Zoya, “stomping away from camp with all the caution of a wayward moose.”

To Matthias’ surprise, Nina actually winced like a child taking a scolding. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her embarrassed before.

“We thought you were dead,” Genya said.

“She looks half-dead.”

“She looks fine.”

“You vanished,” Zoya spat. “When we heard there were Fjerdans nearby, we feared the worst.”

“The worst happened,” Nina said. “And then it happened some more.” She took Matthias’ hand. “But we’re here now.”

Zoya glared at their clasped hands and crossed her arms. “I see.”

Genya raised an auburn brow. “Well, if he’s the worst that can happen—”

“What are you doing here?” Zoya demanded. “Are you and your Fjerdan … accessory trying to get out of Ketterdam?”

“What if we were? Why did you ambush us?”

“There have been attacks on Grisha all over the city. We didn’t know who you were or if you might be colluding with the Shu, only that you used the code on the peddler. We always station soldiers in the tavern now. Anyone looking for Grisha is a potential threat.”

Given what Matthias had seen of the new Shu soldiers, they were right to be wary.

“We came to offer our help,” Nina said.

“What kind of help? You have no idea what forces are at work here, Nina. The Shu have developed a drug—”

“Jurda parem.”

“What do you know about parem?”

Nina squeezed Matthias’ hand. She took a deep breath. “I’ve seen it used. I’ve … experienced it myself.”

Genya’s single amber eye widened. “Oh, Nina, no. You didn’t.”

“Of course she did,” said Zoya. “You’ve always been like this! You sink into trouble like it’s a warm bath. Is this why you look like second-day gruel? How could you take a risk like that, Nina?”

“I do not look like gruel,” Nina protested, but she had that same chastened look on her face. Matthias couldn’t stand it.

“She did it to save our lives,” he said. “She did it knowing she might be dooming herself to misery and even death.”

“Reckless,” Zoya declared.

“Zoya,” said Genya. “We don’t know the circumstances—”

“We know that she’s been missing nearly a year.” She pointed an accusing finger at Nina. “And now she shows up with a Fjerdan in tow, one built like a soldier and who uses drüskelle fighting techniques.” Zoya reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of bones. “She attacked our soldiers with these, with bone shards, Genya. Have you ever heard of such a thing being possible?”

Genya stared at the bones and then at Nina. “Is this true?”

Nina pressed her lips together. “Possibly?”

“Possibly,” said Zoya. “And you’re telling me we should just trust her?”

Genya looked less certain but said, “I’m telling you we should listen.”

“All right,” said Zoya. “I wait with open ears and a ready heart. Entertain me, Nina Zenik.”

Matthias knew what it was to face the mentors you had idolized, to feel yourself become a nervous pupil again, yearning to please. He turned to Nina and said in Fjerdan, “Do not let them cow you. You are not the girl you were. You are not just a soldier to command.”

“So why do I feel like finding a corner to sob in?”

“This is a round room. There are no corners.”

“Matthias—”

“Remember what we’ve been through. Remember what we came here for.”

“I thought we were all speaking Kerch,” said Zoya.

Nina gave Matthias’ hand another squeeze, threw back her head, and said, “I was taken captive by the drüskelle. Matthias helped me escape. Matthias was taken captive by the Kerch. I helped him escape. I was taken captive by Jarl Brum. Matthias helped me escape.” Matthias wasn’t entirely comfortable with how good they both were at being taken prisoner.

“Jarl Brum?” Zoya said in horror.

Nina sighed. “It’s been a rough year. I swear I’ll explain it all to you, and if you decide I should be put in a sack and dropped in the Sokol River, I will go with a minimum of wailing. But we came here tonight because I saw the Kherguud soldiers’ attack on West Stave. I want to help get these Grisha out of the city before the Shu find them.”

Zoya had to be several inches shorter than Nina, but she still managed to look down her nose when she said, “And how can you help?”

“We have a ship.” That wasn’t technically true yet, but Matthias wasn’t going to argue.

Zoya waved a dismissive hand. “We have a ship too. It’s stuck miles off the coast. The harbor has been blockaded by the Kerch and the Council of Tides. No foreign vessel can come or go without express permission from a member of the Merchant Council.”

So Kaz had been right. Van Eck was using every bit of his influence with the government to ensure Kaz didn’t get Kuwei out of Ketterdam.

“Sure,” said Nina. “But our ship belongs to a member of the Kerch Merchant Council.”

Zoya and Genya exchanged a glance.

“All right, Zenik,” said Zoya. “Now I’m listening.”

Nina filled in some of the details for Zoya and Genya, though Matthias noticed that she did not mention Kuwei and that she steered very clear of any talk of the Ice Court.

When they went upstairs to debate the proposal, they left Nina and Matthias behind, two armed guards posted at the entry to the cistern room.

In Fjerdan, Matthias whispered, “If Ravka’s spies are worth their salt, your friends are going to realize we were the ones who broke out Kuwei.”

“Don’t whisper,” Nina replied in Fjerdan, but in a normal tone of voice. “It will just make the guards suspicious. And I’ll tell Zoya and Genya everything eventually, but remember how keen we were on killing Kuwei? I’m not sure Zoya would make the same choice to spare him, at least not until he’s safely on Ravkan soil. She doesn’t need to know who’s on that boat until it docks in Os Kervo.”

Safely on Ravkan soil. The words sat heavy in Matthias’ gut. He was eager to get Nina out of the city, but nothing about the prospect of going to Ravka seemed safe to him.

Nina must have sensed his unease, because she said, “Ravka is the safest place for Kuwei. He needs our protection.”

“Just what does Zoya Nazyalensky’s protection look like?”

“She’s really not that bad.” Matthias shot her a skeptical look. “Actually, she’s terrible, but she and Genya saw a lot of death in the civil war. I don’t believe they want more bloodshed.”

Matthias hoped that was true, but even if it was, he wasn’t sure it would matter. “Do you remember what you said to me, Nina? You wished King Nikolai would march north and raze everything in his path.”

“I was angry—”

“You had a right to your anger. We all do. That’s the problem. Brum won’t stop. The drüskelle won’t stop. They consider it their holy mission to destroy your kind.” It had been his mission too, and he could still feel the distrust, the pull toward hatred. He cursed himself for it.

“Then we’ll find a way to change their minds. All of them.” She studied him a moment. “You used a duskbomb today. Did you have Wylan make it?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Why?”

He’d known she wouldn’t like it. “I wasn’t sure how the parem would affect your power. If I had to keep you from the drug, I needed to be able to fight you without hurting you.”

“And you brought it today in case we had trouble?”

“Yes.”

“With Grisha.”

He nodded, waiting for her admonishment, but all she did was watch him, her face thoughtful. She drew nearer. Matthias cast an uneasy glance at the guards’ backs, visible through the doorway. “Ignore them,” she said. “Why haven’t you kissed me, Matthias?”

“This isn’t the time—”

“Is it because of what I am? Is it because you still fear me?”

“No.”

She paused, and he could see her struggling with what she wanted to say. “Is it because of the way I behaved on the ship? The way I acted the other night … when I tried to get you to give me the rest of the parem?”

“How can you think that?”

“You’re always calling me shameless. I guess … I guess I’m ashamed.” She shuddered. “It’s like wearing a coat that doesn’t fit.”

“Nina, I gave you my oath.”

“But—”

“Your enemies are my enemies, and I will stand with you against any foe—including this accursed drug.”

She shook her head as if he was speaking nonsense. “I don’t want you to be with me because of an oath, or because you think you need to protect me, or because you think you owe me some stupid blood debt.”

“Nina—” he started, then stopped. “Nina, I am with you because you let me be with you. There is no greater honor than to stand by your side.”

“Honor, duty. I get it.”

Her temper he could bear, but her disappointment was unacceptable. Matthias knew only the language of war. He did not have the words for this. “Meeting you was a disaster.”

She raised a brow. “Thank you.”

Djel, he was terrible at this. He stumbled on, trying to make her understand. “But I am grateful every day for that disaster. I needed a cataclysm to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.”

“I,” she said, planting a hand on her hip, “am a delicate flower.”

“You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.”

“And what would you prefer?” she said, eyes blazing, the slightest quaver to her voice. “A proper Fjerdan girl who wears high collars and dunks herself in cold water whenever she has the urge to do something exciting?”

“That isn’t what I meant!”

She sidled closer to him. Again, his eyes strayed to the guards. Their backs were turned, but Matthias knew they must be listening, no matter what language he and Nina were speaking. “What are you so afraid of?” she challenged. “Don’t look at them, Matthias. Look at me.”

He looked. It was a struggle not to look. He loved seeing her in Fjerdan clothes, the little woolly vest, the full sweep of her skirts. Her green eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, her lips slightly parted. It was too easy to imagine himself kneeling like a penitent before her, letting his hands slide up the white curves of her calves, pushing those skirts higher, past her knees to the warm skin of her thighs. And the worst part was that he knew how good she would feel. Every cell in his body remembered the press of her naked body that first night in the whaling camp. “I … There is no one I want more; there is nothing I want more than to be overwhelmed by you.”

“But you don’t want to kiss me?”

He inhaled slowly, trying to bring order to his thoughts. This was all wrong.

“In Fjerda—” he began.

“We’re not in Fjerda.”

He needed to make her understand. “In Fjerda,” he persisted, “I would have asked your parents for permission to walk out with you.”

“I haven’t seen my parents since I was a child.”

“We would have been chaperoned. I would have dined with your family at least three times before we were ever left alone together.”

“We’re alone together now, Matthias.”

“I would have brought you gifts.”

Nina tipped her head to one side. “Go on.”

“Winter roses if I could afford them, a silver comb for your hair.”

“I don’t need those things.”

“Apple cakes with sweet cream.”

“I thought drüskelle didn’t eat sweets.”

“They’d all be for you,” he said.

“You have my attention.”

“Our first kiss would be in a sunlit wood or under a starry sky after a village dance, not in a tomb or some dank basement with guards at the door.”

“Let me get this straight,” Nina said. “You haven’t kissed me because the setting isn’t suitably romantic?”

“This isn’t about romance. A proper kiss, a proper courtship. There’s a way these things should be done.”

“For proper thieves?” The corners of her beautiful mouth curled and for a moment he was afraid she would laugh at him, but she simply shook her head and drew even nearer. Her body was the barest breath from his now. The need to close that scrap of distance was maddening.

“The first day you showed up at my house for this proper courtship, I would have cornered you in the pantry,” she said. “But please, tell me more about Fjerdan girls.”

“They speak quietly. They don’t engage in flirtations with every single man they meet.”

“I flirt with the women too.”

“I think you’d flirt with a date palm if it would pay you any attention.”

“If I flirted with a plant, you can bet it would stand up and take notice. Are you jealous?”

“All the time.”

“I’m glad. What are you looking at, Matthias?” The low thrum of her voice vibrated straight through him.

He kept his eyes on the ceiling, whispering softly. “Nothing.”

“Matthias, are you praying?”

“Possibly.”

“For restraint?” she said sweetly.

“You really are a witch.”

“I’m not proper, Matthias.”

“I am aware of this.” Miserably, keenly, hungrily aware.

“And I’m sorry to inform you, but you’re not proper either.”

His gaze dropped to her now. “I—”

“How many rules have you broken since you met me? How many laws? They won’t be the last. Nothing about us will ever be proper,” she said. She tilted her face up to his. So close now it was as if they were already touching. “Not the way we met. Not the life we lead. And not the way we kiss.”

She went up on tiptoe, and that easily, her mouth was against his. It was barely a kiss—just a quick, startling press of her lips.

Before she could even think of moving away, he had hold of her. He knew he was probably doing everything wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry, because she was in his arms, her lips were parting, her hands were twining around his neck, and sweet Djel, her tongue was in his mouth. No wonder Fjerdans were so cautious about courtship. If Matthias could be kissing Nina, feeling her nip at his lip with her clever teeth, feel her body fitted against his own, hear her release that little sigh in the back of her throat, why would he ever bother doing anything else? Why would anyone?

“Matthias,” Nina said breathlessly, and then they were kissing again.

She was sweet as the first rain, lush as new meadows. His hands curled along her back, tracing her shape, the line of her spine, the emphatic flare of her hips.

“Matthias,” she said more insistently, pulling away.

He opened his eyes, certain he’d made some horrible mistake. Nina was biting her lower lip—it was pink and swollen. But she was smiling, and her eyes sparkled. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all, you glorious babink, but—”

Zoya cleared her throat. “I’m glad you two found a way to spend the time while you waited.”

Her expression was pure disgust, but next to her, Genya looked like she was about to burst with glee.

“Perhaps you should put me down?” suggested Nina.

Reality crashed in on Matthias—the guards’ knowing looks, Zoya and Genya in the doorway, and the fact that in the course of kissing Nina Zenik with a year’s worth of pent-up desire, he had lifted her clear off her feet.

A tide of embarrassment flooded through him. What Fjerdan did such a thing? Gently, he released his hold on her magnificent thighs and let her slide to the ground.

“Shameless,” Nina whispered, and he felt his cheeks go red.

Zoya rolled her eyes. “We’re making a deal with a pair of love-struck teenagers.”

Matthias felt another wave of heat in his face, but Nina just adjusted her wig and said, “So you’ll accept our help?”

It took them a short time to work out the logistics of how the night would go. Since it might not be safe for Nina to return to the tavern, once she had information on where and when to board Van Eck’s ship, she would get a message to the embassy—probably via Inej, since the Wraith could come and go without being seen. The refugees would remain in hiding as long as possible; then Genya and Zoya would get them to the harbor.

“Be prepared for a fight,” Matthias said. “The Shu will be watching this sector of town. They haven’t had the temerity to attack the embassy or the marketplace yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“We’ll be ready, Fjerdan,” said Zoya, and in her gaze he saw the steel of a born commander.

On their way out of the embassy, Nina found the golden-eyed Heartrender who had been part of the ambush at the tavern. She was Shu, with a short crop of black hair, and wore a pair of slender silver axes at her hips. Nina had told him she was the only Corporalnik among the Grisha refugees and diplomats.

“Tamar?” Nina said tentatively. “If the Kherguud come, you mustn’t allow yourself to be taken. A Heartrender in Shu possession and under the influence of parem could irrevocably tip the scales in their favor. You cannot imagine the power of this drug.”

“No one will take me alive,” said the girl. She slid a tiny, pale yellow tablet from her pocket, displaying it between her fingers.

“Poison?”

“Genya’s own creation. It kills instantly. We all have them.” She handed it to Nina. “Take it. Just in case. I have another.”

“Nina—” Matthias said.

But Nina didn’t hesitate. She slipped the pill into the pocket of her skirt before Matthias could speak another word of protest.

They made their way out of the government sector, steering clear of the market stalls and keeping well away from the tavern, where the stadwatch had gathered.

Matthias told himself to be alert, to focus on getting them back to Black Veil safely, but he could not stop thinking about that pale yellow pill. The sight of it had brought the dream back as vivid as ever, the ice of the north, Nina lost and Matthias powerless to save her. It had burned the unchecked joy of her kiss right out of him.

The dream had started on the ship, when Nina was in the worst throes of her struggle with parem. She’d been in a rage that night, body quaking, clothes soaked through with sweat.

You’re not a good man, she’d shouted. You’re a good soldier, and the sad thing is you don’t even know the difference. She’d been miserable later, weeping, sick with hunger, sick with regret. I’m sorry, she’d said. I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t mean it. And a moment later, If you would just help me. Her beautiful eyes were full of tears, and in the faint light from the lanterns, her pale skin had seemed gilded in frost. Please, Matthias, I’m in so much pain. Help me. He would have done anything, traded anything to ease her suffering, but he’d sworn he would not give her more parem. He’d made a vow that he would not let her become a slave to the drug, and he had to honor it, no matter what it cost him.

I can’t, my love, he’d whispered, pressing a cold towel to her brow. I can’t get you more parem. I had them lock the door from the outside.

In a flash her face changed, her eyes slitted. Then break the fucking door down, you useless skiv.

No.

She spat in his face.

Hours later, she’d been quiet, her energy spent, sad but coherent. She’d lain on her side, her eyelids a bruised shade of violet, breath coming in shallow pants, and said, “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“About anything. Tell me about the isenulf.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised she knew of the isenulf, the white wolves bred to go into battle with the drüskelle. They were bigger than ordinary wolves, and though they were trained to obey their masters, they never lost the wild, indomitable streak that separated them from their distant domesticated cousins.

It had been hard to think about Fjerda, the life he’d left behind for good, but he made himself speak, eager for any way to distract her. “Sometimes there are more wolves than drüskelle, sometimes more drüskelle than wolves. The wolves decide when to mate, with little influence from the breeder. They’re too stubborn for that.”

Nina had smiled, then winced in pain. “Keep going,” she whispered.

“The same family has been breeding the isenulf for generations. They live far north near Stenrink, the Ring of Stones. When a new litter arrives, we travel there by foot and by sledge, and each drüskelle chooses a pup. From then on, you are each other’s responsibility. You fight beside each other, sleep on the same furs, your rations are your wolf’s rations. He is not your pet. He is a warrior like you, a brother.”

Nina shivered, and Matthias felt a sick rush of shame. In a battle with Grisha, the isenulf could help even the odds for a drüskelle, trained to come to his aid and tear out his attacker’s throat. Heartrender power seemed to have no effect on animals. A Grisha like Nina would be virtually helpless under isenulf attack.

“What if something happens to the wolf?” Nina asked.

“A drüskelle can train a new wolf, but it is a terrible loss.”

“What happens to the wolf if his drüskelle is killed?”

Matthias was silent for a time. He did not want to think about this. Trass had been the creature of his heart.

“They are returned to the wild, but they will never be accepted by any pack.” And what was a wolf without a pack? The isenulf were not meant to live alone.

When had the other drüskelle decided Matthias was dead? Had it been Brum who had taken Trass north to the ice? The idea of his wolf left alone, howling for Matthias to come and take him home, carved a hollow ache in his chest. It felt like something had broken there and left an echo, the lonely snap of a branch too heavy with snow.

As if she had sensed his sorrow, Nina had opened her eyes, the pale green of a bud about to unfurl, a color that brought him back from the ice. “What was his name?”

“Trassel.”

The corner of her lips tilted. “Troublemaker.”

“No one else wanted him.”

“Was he a runt?”

“No,” Matthias said. “The opposite.”

It had taken more than a week of hard travel to reach the Ring of Stones. Matthias hadn’t enjoyed the trip. He’d been twelve years old, new to the drüskelle, and every day he’d thought about running away. He didn’t mind the training. The hours spent running and sparring helped to keep the longing he felt for his family at bay. He wanted to be an officer. He wanted to fight Grisha. He wanted a chance to bring honor to the memory of his parents and his sister. The drüskelle had given him purpose. But the rest of it? The jokes in the mess hall? The endless boasting and mindless chatter? That he had no use for. He had a family. They were buried beneath the black earth, their souls gone to Djel. The drüskelle were merely a means to an end.

Brum had warned him that he would never become a true drüskelle if he did not learn to see the other boys as his brothers, but Matthias didn’t believe that. He was the biggest, the strongest, the fastest. He didn’t need to be popular to survive.

He’d ridden in the back of the sled for the entirety of the journey, huddled in his furs, speaking to no one, and when they’d finally arrived at the Ring of Stones, he’d hung back, unsure of himself as the other drüskelle bolted into the big barn, yelling and shoving one another, each of them diving for the pile of wriggling white wolf pups with their ice-chip eyes.

The truth was that he wanted a wolf pup desperately, but he knew there might not be enough for all of them. It was up to the breeder which boy was paired with each pup and who went home empty-handed. Many of the boys were already talking to the old woman, attempting to charm her.

“You see? This one likes me.”

“Look! Look! I got her to sit!”

Matthias knew he should try to be personable, make some kind of effort, but instead he found himself drawn to the kennels in the back of the barn. In the corner, in a wire cage, he caught a yellow flash—light reflecting off a pair of wary eyes. He drew closer and saw a wolf, a pup no longer, but not yet full grown. He growled as Matthias drew closer to the cage, hackles raised, head lowered, teeth bared. The young wolf had a long scar across his muzzle. It had cut across his right eye and changed part of the iris from blue to mottled brown.

“Don’t want no business with that one,” said the breeder.

Matthias didn’t know when she’d snuck up behind him. “Can he see?”

“He can, but he don’t like people.”

“Why not?”

“He got out when he was still a pup. Made it across two miles of ice fields. Kid found him and cut him up with a broken bottle. Won’t let no one near him since, and he’s getting too old to train. Probably have to put him down soon.”

“Let me take him.”

“He’d just as soon tear you to bits as let you feed him, boy. We’ll have a pup for you next time.”

As soon as the woman walked away, Matthias opened the cage. And just as fast, the wolf lunged forward and bit him.

Matthias wanted to scream as the wolf’s teeth sank into his forearm. He toppled to the ground, the wolf on top of him, the pain beyond anything he’d ever known. But he did not make a sound. He held the wolf’s gaze as its teeth sank more deeply into the muscle of his arm, a growl rumbling through the animal’s chest.

Matthias suspected that the wolf’s jaws were strong enough to break bone, but he did not struggle, did not cry out, did not drop his gaze. I won’t hurt you, he swore, even if you hurt me.

A long moment passed, and then another. Matthias could feel blood soaking through his sleeve. He thought he might lose consciousness.

Then, slowly, the wolf’s jaws released. The animal sat back, the white fur of his muzzle coated in Matthias’ blood, head tilted to one side. The wolf released a huff of breath.

“Nice to meet you too,” said Matthias.

He sat up cautiously, bandaged his arm with the bottom of his shirt, and then he and his wolf, both covered in blood, walked back to where the others were playing in a pile of wolf pups and gray uniforms.

“This one’s mine,” he said as they all turned to stare, and the old woman shook her head. Then Matthias passed out.

That night, on the ship, Matthias had told Nina about Trassel, his fierce nature, his ragged scar. Eventually, she had dozed and Matthias had let himself shut his eyes. The ice was waiting. The killing wind came with white teeth, the wolves howled in the distance, and Nina cried out, but Matthias could not go to her.

The dream had come every night since. It was hard not to see it as some kind of omen, and when Nina had casually dropped that yellow pill into her pocket, it had been like watching the storm come on: the roar of the wind filling his ears, the cold burrowing into his bones, the certainty that he was going to lose her.

“Parem might not work on you anymore,” he said now. They’d finally reached the deserted canal where they’d moored the gondel.

“What?”

“Your power has changed, hasn’t it?”

Nina’s footsteps faltered. “Yes.”

“Because of the parem?”

Now Nina stopped. “Why are you asking me this?”

He didn’t want to ask her. He wanted to kiss her again. But he said, “If you were captured, the Shu might not be able to use the drug to enslave you.”

“Or it could be just as bad as before.”

“That pill, the poison Tamar gave you—”

Nina laid a hand on his arm. “I’m not going to be captured, Matthias.”

“But if you were—”

“I don’t know what the parem did to me. I have to believe the effects will wear off in time.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They have to,” she said, brow furrowed. “I can’t live like this. It’s like … being only half of myself. Although…”

“Although?” he urged.

“The craving isn’t quite so bad right now,” she said as if realizing it herself. “In fact, I’ve barely thought of parem since the fight at the tavern.”

“Using this new power helped?”

“Maybe,” she said cautiously. “And—” She frowned. Matthias heard a low, curling growl.

“Was that your stomach?”

“It was.” Nina’s face split in a dazzling grin. “Matthias, I’m famished.”

Could she truly be healing at last? Or had what she’d done at the tavern returned her appetite to her? He didn’t care. He was just glad she was smiling that way. He picked her up and spun her in the air.

“You’re going to strain something if you keep doing that,” she said with another radiant smile.

“You’re light as a feather.”

“I do not want to see that bird. Now let’s go get me a stack of waffles twice as tall as you. I—”

She broke off, the color draining from her face. “Oh, Saints.”

Matthias followed her gaze over his shoulder and found himself looking into his own eyes. A poster had been plastered to the wall, emblazoned with a scarily accurate sketch of his face. Above and beside the illustration, written in several different languages, was a single word: WANTED.

Nina snatched the poster from the wall. “You were supposed to be dead.”

“Someone must have asked to see Muzzen’s body before it was burned.” Maybe the Fjerdans. Maybe just someone at the prison. There were more words printed at the bottom in Kerch that Matthias couldn’t read, but he understood his own name and the number well enough. “Fifty thousand kruge. They’re offering a reward for my capture.”

“No,” Nina said. She pointed to the text beneath the large number and translated, “Wanted: Matthias Helvar. Dead or alive. They’ve put a price on your head.”