“You’ll sacrifice another ancient life for the sake of your own power.”

“Maybe not,” I protested weakly. “I showed the stag mercy. Maybe the firebird doesn’t have to die.”

“Listen to you. This is not some children’s story. The stag had to die for you to claim its power. The firebird is no different, and this time the blood will be on your hands.” Then she laughed her low, mirthless chuckle. “The thought doesn’t bother you as much as it should, does it, girl?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Have you no care for what there is to lose? For the damage you may cause?”

“I do,” I said miserably. “I do. But I’m out of options, and even if I weren’t—”

She dropped my hands. “You would seek it just the same.”

“I won’t deny it. I want the firebird. I want the amplifiers’ combined power. But it doesn’t change the fact that no human army can stand against the Darkling’s shadow soldiers.”

“Abomination against abomination.”

If that was what it took. Too much had been lost for me to turn away from any weapon that might make me strong enough to win this fight. With or without Baghra’s help, I would have to find a way to wield merzost.

I hesitated. “Baghra, I’ve read Morozova’s journals.”

“Have you, now? Did you find them stimulating reading?”

“No, I found them infuriating.”

To my surprise, she laughed. “My son pored over those pages as if they were holy writ. He must have read through them a thousand times, questioning every word. He began to think there were codes hidden in the text. He held the pages over flame searching for invisible ink. In the end, he cursed Morozova’s name.”

As had I. Only David’s obsession persisted. It had nearly gotten him killed today when he’d insisted on dragging that pack with him.

I hated to ask it, hated to even put the possibility into words, but I forced myself to. “Is there … is there any chance Morozova left the cycle unfinished? Is there a chance he never created the third amplifier?”

For a while, she was silent, her expression distant, her blind gaze locked on something I couldn’t see. “Morozova never could have left that undone,” she said softly. “It wasn’t his way.”

Something in her words lifted the hairs on my arms. A memory came to me: Baghra putting her hands to the collar on my neck at the Little Palace. I would have liked to see his stag.

“Baghra—”

A voice came from the doorway: “Moi soverenyi.” I looked up at Mal, annoyed at being interrupted.

“What is it?” I asked, recognizing the edge that came into my voice whenever the firebird was concerned.

“There’s a problem with Genya,” he said. “And the King.”

CHAPTER 7

I SHOT TO MY FEET. “What happened?”

“Sergei let her real name slip. He seems to be taking to heights about as well as he took to caves.”

I released a growl of frustration. Genya had played a key role in the Darkling’s plot to depose the King. I’d tried to be patient with Sergei, but now he’d put her in danger and jeopardized our position with Nikolai.