Page 181 of Rule of Wolves

“I wouldn’t say that,” Tamar mused. “An entire battlefield just declared you a Saint.”

“Actually, the Darkling declared you a Saint,” Nikolai corrected.

“Turning into a dragon probably helped,” added Tolya.

“Did you know you could do this?” Genya asked. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Zoya shook her head. She felt impossibly cold, as if now that the dragon’s fire had banked inside her, she would never be warm until it was kindled again.

“There were khergud on the battlefield,” she said, remembering. They’d flown beside Nikolai’s demon.

“It’s all right,” Tolya said, squatting down. “They fought on our side. But they had to disappear for a while. They couldn’t risk questions.”

“They don’t exist,” said Tamar. “At least according to the Shu queen.”

“You’re back,” Zoya said.

Tamar winked. “You think I’d miss a fight?” She offered Zoya her hand and helped her to her feet.

Nikolai’s eyes widened. “You are wearing the most extraordinary armor.”

Zoya looked down at herself. Her roughspun peasant clothes were gone. Her body was covered in a snug tunic and breeches made of metallic black scales that shimmered blue in the sun. She recognized this armor. It was what Juris had worn in human form, and it fit like a second skin. Her vanity didn’t mind the effect, but she’d bloody well better be able to take it off.

Leoni cocked her head to one side. “Is it comfortable?”

“It’s heavy,” Zoya said, offering up her arm so the Fabrikator could feel the metal.

“It will make quite the impression in Os Kervo,” said Nikolai. “Fjerda has called for talks.”

“Vadik Demidov is in Os Kervo too,” said Tolya. “The Fjerdans are in retreat for now, but they’ve switched tactics.”

Tamar grunted in disgust. “They couldn’t beat us on the field, so they’re pushing the issue of succession. They’ve called for an assembly of Ravka’s highest-ranking nobles.”

Zoya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Our nobles? They have no right to command our people.”

“We can stop them,” said Genya. “We’ll block the assembly.”

Nikolai tugged on a pair of calf-leather gloves. In the time since the battle, he’d changed into an immaculate field uniform. “On the contrary,” he said. “I’ve ordered airships sent for them. They’ll be here in a few hours.”

“For Saints’ sake, why?” asked Zoya. If the man could make something more difficult, he would.

“Because the longer we give them to plot and scheme, the worse it will be. Right now, West Ravka is grateful to us and angry with Fjerda for their betrayal. Genya, I’ll need you to see to my cut-up lip and make me look less the rogue and more the respectable monarch. Bastard or not, if I have any hope of keeping the throne, this is it.”

An uncomfortable silence followed.

Tamar broke it with a click of her tongue. “Bastardy is the least of your worries.”

“They know what you are now,” said Zoya. She left for a few days and everything went to hell. He’d released his monster onto the field. He’d shown all of Ravka the demon king.

“True,” said Nikolai. “But they know what you are too, Sankta Zoya.”

“Do not call me that.”

“It has a nice ring to it,” said Tamar.

“Our Lady of Dragonfire?” suggested Nadia.

“Sweet scaly vengeance?” said Genya.