Page 38 of Rule of Wolves

“Ehri saw what happened,” said Tolya quietly. “It will be up to her to tell the truth. All of it.”

“All of it,” Tamar repeated.

Nadia laid her pen on the table and took her wife’s hand. “Do you think Queen Makhi will actually come to the wedding?”

“She will,” said Tamar. “But I wouldn’t put it past her to use the occasion to stage some kind of attack. She’s a wily tactician.”

“A good queen,” said Zoya.

“Yes,” Tamar conceded. “Or an effective one. Her mother created a policy of outlawing experimentation on Grisha and had begun to allow them certain rights in exchange for military or governmental service.”

“Like in Ravka,” Nikolai said.

Tolya nodded. “Grisha still couldn’t own property or hold any kind of political office, but they were worthwhile reforms.”

“We’ve never been seen as unnatural there,” said Tamar. “Just dangerous. But not everyone approved. Some Shu didn’t like the idea of Grisha passing as ordinary people.”

“And Makhi didn’t like her mother’s policies?” Nikolai asked.

Now Tamar frowned. She picked up Nadia’s cup and her own and paced to the side table to refill them. “Even before she was crowned, Makhi had her own ideas about how to strengthen Shu Han. When jurda parem was discovered, it presented her with a choice: She could have attempted to keep the secret by destroying Bo Yul-Bayur’s work. Instead Makhi chose to start up the old laboratories and make use of parem as a weapon.”

“That’s what led to the khergud,” Tolya said, his voice desolate, a man surveying the wreck, pointing to a yawning black hole in the hull. This is where it all went wrong.

The khergud were Shu Han’s deadliest soldiers, though the government had never acknowledged them in any official way. They were tailored by Grisha under the influence of parem, their senses heightened, their bones reinforced and altered. Some could even fly. Zoya shivered, remembering being yanked off her feet, the grip of the khergud soldier’s arms around her like steel bands.

Tamar placed the full cups on the table but did not sit. She ran Nikolai’s spy networks. She knew, better than any of them, what was happening to Grisha under Makhi’s stewardship.

“The creation of the khergud…” She hesitated. “It’s a process of trial and error. The Grisha they bring to the labs are referred to as volunteers, but…”

“We know better,” Tolya growled.

“We do,” said Tamar. “The choices the Grisha are presented with are impossible ones. The power the Taban government wields is too absolute.”

“So it’s not a choice at all,” said Genya.

Tolya shrugged. “It’s the same way the Darkling built the Second Army.”

Zoya bristled at that. “The Second Army was a refuge.”

“Maybe for some,” said Tolya. “The Darkling took Grisha from their parents when they were only children. They were taught to forget the places they came from, the people they knew. They served the crown or their families suffered. What kind of choice is that?”

“But no one experimented on us,” said Zoya. And some of us were perfectly happy to forget our parents.

“No,” said Tolya, resting his huge hands on his knees. “They just turned you into soldiers and sent you out to fight their wars.”

“He’s not wrong,” said Genya, looking down at her wine. “Don’t you ever think about what life you might have led if you hadn’t come to the Little Palace?”

Zoya leaned her head back against the silk of the couch. Yes, she wondered. As a little girl, the thought had haunted her dreams and hounded her into waking. She would close her eyes and find herself walking down the aisle. She would see her aunt bleeding on the floor. And always, her mother was there, coaxing Zoya forward, reminding her not to trip on the hem of her little golden wedding dress, as Zoya’s father sat silent in the pews. He’d hung his head, Zoya remembered. But he hadn’t said a word to save her. Only Liliyana had dared to speak. And Liliyana was long dead. Murdered by the Fold and the Darkling’s ambition.

“Yes,” said Zoya. “I think about it.”

Tamar ran a hand through her short hair. “Our father promised our mother that we would have a choice. So when she died, he took us to Novyi Zem.”

Would that have been the better thing? Should Liliyana have put her on a ship to cross the True Sea instead of bringing her to the palace gates to join the Grisha? Nikolai had abolished the practice of separating Grisha from their parents. There was no mandatory draft to pull children from their homes. But for the Grisha who had no homes, who had never felt safe in the places they should feel safe, the Little Palace would always be a refuge, somewhere to run to. Zoya had to preserve that sanctuary, no matter what the Fjerdans or the Shu or the Kerch threw at them. And maybe, somewhere on the other side of this long fight, there was a future where Grisha wouldn’t have to fear or be feared, where “soldier” would just be one of a thousand possible paths.

She stood and shook out her cuffs. She wanted to sit by the fire, argue with Tolya, look at Genya’s sketches, watch Nikolai frown into his tea. And that was exactly why she had to leave. There could be no rest. Not until her country and her people were safe.

“Your Majesty?” she said. “We’ve put this off long enough.”