A hush had fallen. I looked down into the eager faces of the people below. There was something new in their exultation, maybe because they’d gotten a glimpse of my real power. Or maybe because the Apparat had done his work so well. They were waiting for me to say something. I’d had dreams like this. I was an actor in a play, but I’d never learned my lines.

“I will—” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I will return more powerful than before,” I said in my best Saint’s voice. “You are my eyes.” I needed them to be, to watch the Apparat, to keep each other safe. “You are my fists. You are my swords.”

The crowd cheered. As one, they chorused back to me, Sankta Alina! Sankta Alina! Sankta Alina!

“Not bad,” Mal said as I stepped away from the balcony.

“I’ve been listening to the Apparat go on for nearly three months. Something had to rub off.”

On my orders, the Apparat announced that he would spend three days in isolation, fasting and praying for the success of our mission. The Priestguards would do the same, confined to the archives and guarded by the Soldat Sol.

“Keep them strong in their faith,” I told Ruby and the other soldiers. I hoped that three days would give us plenty of time to get well away from the White Cathedral. But knowing the Apparat, he’d probably talk his way out before dinner.

“I knew you,” Ruby said, clutching my fingers as I turned to go. “I was in your regiment. Do you remember?”

Her eyes were wet, and the tattoo on her cheek was so black it seemed to float on top of her skin.

“Of course I do,” I said kindly. We hadn’t been friends. Back then, Ruby had been more interested in Mal than religion. I’d been nearly invisible to her.

Now she released a sob and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “Sankta,” she whispered fervently. Whenever I thought my life couldn’t get any stranger, it did.

Once I’d disentangled myself from Ruby, I took a final moment to speak to the Apparat in private.

“You know what I’m going after, priest, and you know the power I’ll wield when I return. Nothing happens to the Soldat Sol or to Maxim.” I didn’t like leaving the Healer on his own here, but I wouldn’t command him to join us, not knowing the dangers we might face on the surface.

“We are not enemies, Sankta Alina,” the Apparat said gently. “You must know that all I’ve ever wanted was to see you on Ravka’s throne.”

I almost smiled at that. “I know, priest. On the throne and under your thumb.”

He tilted his head to one side, contemplating me. The fanatical glint was gone from his eyes. He simply looked shrewd.

“You are not what I expected,” he admitted.

“Not quite the Saint you bargained for?”

“A lesser Saint,” he said. “But perhaps a better queen. I will pray for you, Alina Starkov.”