Siege and Storm (Shadow and Bone #2)(85)

We charged through the Hall of the Golden Dome and flung open the doors, tumbling down the steps and outside. As everyone sprinted down to the lake, I skidded to a halt.

Mal was coming up the path from the wooded tunnel.

“Go on,” I said to Nikolai. “I’ll catch up.”

Mal watched the path as he approached, not meeting my gaze. As he drew closer, I saw that his eyes were bloodshot and there was an ugly bruise on his cheekbone.

“What happened?” I asked, lifting a hand toward his face. He ducked away, darting a glance at the servants who stood by the Little Palace doors.

“Ran into a bottle of kvas,” he said. “Is there something you need?”

“You missed the demonstration.”

“I wasn’t on duty.”

I ignored the painful jab in my chest and pushed on. “We’re going down to the lake. Would you like to come?”

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, then he shook his head. “I just came back to get some coin. There’s a card game going at the Grand Palace.”

The shard twisted. “You may want to change,” I said. “You look like you slept in your clothes.” I was instantly sorry I’d said it, but Mal didn’t seem to care.

“Maybe because I did,” he said. “Is there anything else?”

“No.”

“Moi soverenyi.” He executed a sharp bow and vaulted up the steps as if he couldn’t wait to be away from me.

I took my time walking down to the lake, hoping that somehow the ache in my heart would ease. My joy at the success on the roof had drained away, leaving me hollow, like a well someone could shout down and hear nothing back but echoes.

By the shore, a group of Grisha were walking the length of the trench, calling out measurements in growing triumph and elation. It was nearly two feet wide and just as deep, a furrow of charred earth that stretched to the water’s edge. In the woods, felled treetops lay in a clutter of branches and bark. I reached out and ran my hand over one of the severed trunks. The wood was smooth, sliced cleanly across, and still warm to the touch. Two small fires had started, but the Tidemakers had quickly put them out.

Nikolai ordered food and champagne brought down to the lake, and we all spent the rest of the evening on the shore. The generals and advisers retired early, but the captain and some of his guard remained. They stripped off their jackets and shoes and waded into the lake, and it wasn’t long before everyone decided they didn’t care about wet clothes and plunged into the water, splashing and dunking each other, then organizing swim races to the little island. To no one’s surprise, a Tidemaker always won, borne aloft by lucky waves.

Nikolai and his Squallers offered to take people up in the recently completed craft he’d dubbed the Kingfisher. At first they were wary, but after the first brave group came back flapping their arms and babbling about actually flying, everyone wanted a turn. I’d sworn my feet would never leave the ground again, but finally I gave in and joined them.

Maybe it was the champagne or just that I knew what to expect, but the Kingfisher seemed lighter and more graceful than the Hummingbird. Though I still gripped the cockpit with both hands, I felt my spirits lift as we rose smoothly into the air.

I gathered my courage and looked down. The rolling grounds of the Grand Palace stretched out below us, crosscut by white gravel paths. I saw the roof of the Grisha greenhouse, the perfect circle of the double eagle fountain, the golden glint of the palace gates. Then we were soaring over the mansions and long, straight boulevards of the upper town. The streets were full of people celebrating Belyanoch. I saw jugglers and stiltwalkers on Gersky Prospect, dancers twirling on a lit stage in one of the parks. Music floated up from the boats on the canal.

I wanted to stay up there forever, surrounded by the flood of wind, watching the tiny, perfect world beneath us. But eventually Nikolai turned the wheel and brought us back to the lake in a slow, descending arc.

The twilight deepened to a lush purple. The Inferni lit bonfires along the lakeshore, and somewhere in the dusk, someone tuned a balalaika. From the town below, I heard the whistle and clap of fireworks.

Nikolai and I sat at the end of the makeshift pier, our trousers rolled up, feet dangling over the side. The Kingfisher bobbed beside us, its white sails trimmed.

Nikolai kicked his foot through the water, sending up a little splash. “The dishes change everything,” he said. “If you can keep the nichevo’ya busy long enough, we’ll have time to find and target the Darkling.”

I flopped back on the dock, stretching my arms overhead and taking in the blooming violet of the night sky. When I turned my head, I could just make out the shape of the now-empty school building, its windows dark. I would have liked the students to see what the dishes could do, to give them that bit of hope. The prospect of a battle was still frightening, especially when I thought of all the lives that might be lost. But at least we weren’t just sitting on a hilltop waiting to die.

“We may actually have a fighting chance,” I said in amazement.

“Try not to let the excitement overwhelm you, but I have more good news.”

I groaned. I knew that tone of voice. “Don’t say it.”

“Vasily is back from Caryeva.”

“You could do the kind thing and drown me now.”

“And suffer alone? I think not.”