Siege and Storm (Shadow and Bone #2)(82)

“Brother, bringing them in younger won’t stop them from deserting,” he said to Vasily.

“Then we find some deserters and make an example of them.”

Nikolai raised a brow. “Are you sure that death by firing squad is more terrifying than the prospect of being torn apart by nichevo’ya?”

“If they even exist,” Vasily scoffed.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

But Nikolai just smiled pleasantly. “I saw them myself aboard the Volkvolny. Surely you’re not calling me a liar.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting that treason is preferable to honest service in the King’s Army.”

“I’m suggesting that maybe these people are just as fond of life as you are. They’re ill-equipped, undersupplied, and short on hope. If you’d read the reports, you’d know that officers are having trouble keeping order in the ranks.”

“Then they should institute harsher punishments,” said Vasily. “It’s what peasants understand.”

I’d already punched one prince. What was one more? I was halfway out of my seat before Nikolai yanked me back down.

“They understand full bellies and clear directives,” he said. “If you would let me implement the changes I’ve suggested and open the coffers for—”

“You cannot always have your way, little brother.”

Tension crackled through the room.

“The world is changing,” said Nikolai, the steel edge emerging in his voice. “We change with it, or there will be nothing left to remember us but the dust.”

Vasily laughed. “I can’t decide if you’re a fearmonger or a coward.”

“And I can’t decide if you’re an idiot or an idiot.”

Vasily’s face turned purple. He shot to his feet and smacked his hands down on the table. “The Darkling is one man. If you’re afraid to face him—”

“I have faced him. If you’re not afraid—if any of you aren’t afraid—it’s because you lack the sense to understand what we’re up against.”

Some of the generals nodded. But the King’s advisers, Os Alta’s noblemen and bureaucrats, looked skeptical and sullen. To them, war was parades, military theory, little figures moved around on a map. If it came to it, these were the men who would ally themselves with Vasily.

Nikolai squared his shoulders, the actor’s mask descending over his features once more. “Peace, brother,” he said. “We both want what’s best for Ravka.”

But Vasily wasn’t interested in being soothed. “What’s best for Ravka is a Lantsov on the throne.”

I drew in a sharp breath. A deadly stillness descended over the room. Vasily had as good as called Nikolai a bastard.

But Nikolai had regained his composure, and now nothing would shake it. “Then let us all say a prayer for Ravka’s rightful King,” he said. “Now, shall we finish our business?”

The meeting limped along for a few more minutes and then came to a welcome close. On our walk back to the Little Palace, Nikolai was uncharacteristically silent.

When we reached the gardens by the pillared folly, he paused to pluck a leaf from a hedge and said, “I shouldn’t have lost my temper that way. It just pricks his pride, makes him dig in his heels.”

“So why did you?” I asked, genuinely curious. It was rare for Nikolai’s emotions to get the best of him.

“I don’t know,” he said, shredding the leaf. “You got angry. I got angry. The room was too damn hot.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“Indigestion?” he offered.

But I wasn’t going to be put off by a joke. Despite Vasily’s objections and the council’s reluctance to do much of anything, through some magical combination of patience and pressure, Nikolai had still managed to push through a few of his plans. He’d gotten them to approve relief for the refugees fleeing the shores of the Fold, and requisitioned Materialki corecloth to outfit key regiments of the First Army. He’d even gotten them to divert funds for a plan to modernize farm equipment so that peasants could manage something other than subsistence. Small things, but improvements that might make all the difference in time.

“It’s because you actually care about what happens to this country,” I said. “The throne is just a prize to Vasily, something he wants to squabble over like a favorite toy. You’re not like that. You’ll make a good king.”

Nikolai froze. “I…” For once, words seemed to have deserted him. Then a crooked, embarrassed smile crept across his face. It was a far cry from his usual self-assured grin. “Thank you,” he said.

I sighed as we resumed our pace. “You’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?”

Nikolai laughed. “I’m already insufferable.”

*

THE DAYS GREW LONGER. The sun stayed close beneath the horizon, and the festival of Belyanoch began in Os Alta. Even at midnight, the skies were never truly dark, and despite the fear of war and the looming threat of the Fold, the city celebrated the endless hours of twilight. In the upper town, the evenings were crowded with operas, masques, and lavish ballets. Over the bridge, raucous horse races and outdoor dances shook the streets of the lower town. An endless stream of pleasure boats bobbed through the canal, and beneath the glimmering dusk, the slow-moving water circled the capital like a jeweled bangle, alight with lanterns hung from a thousand prows.