I squinted through the mist. Sure enough, someone was making his way up the narrow, zigzagging steps along the cliff side, his breath pluming in the icy air. It took me only a moment to realize it was Mal, head bent, pack on his shoulders.

“Looks … bracing. If he keeps this up, I may actually have to start exerting myself.” Nikolai’s tone was light, but I could feel his clever hazel eyes on me. “Assuming we best the Darkling, as I’m sure we will, does Mal plan to stay on as the captain of your guard?”

I caught myself before I could rub my thumb over the scar on my palm.

“I don’t know.” Despite everything that had happened, I wanted to keep Mal near. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I made myself say, “I think it might be better if he was reassigned. He’s good in combat, but he’s a better tracker.”

“You know he won’t take a commission away from the fighting.”

“Do what you think is best.” The pain was like a slender knife gliding right between my ribs. I was cutting Mal out of my life, but my voice was steady. Nikolai had taught me well. I tried to hand the ring back. “I can’t accept this. Not now.” Maybe not ever.

“Keep it,” he said, curling my fingers over the emerald. “A privateer learns to press any advantage.”

“And a prince?”

“Princes get used to the word yes.”

* * *

WHEN I GOT BACK to my room that evening, Nikolai had more surprises waiting. I hesitated, then turned on my heel and marched down the corridor to where the other girls were lodged. For a long second, I just stood there, feeling shy and foolish, then I forced myself to knock.

Nadia answered. Behind her, I saw Tamar had come to visit and was sharpening her axes by the window. Genya sat at the table, sewing gold thread around another eye patch, and Zoya was lounging on one of the beds, keeping a feather aloft with a gust from her fingertips.

“I need to show you something,” I said.

“What is it?” asked Zoya, keeping her eyes on the feather.

“Just come and see.”

She rolled herself off the bed with an exasperated sigh. I led them down the hallway to my room, and threw open the door.

Genya dove into the pile of gowns laid out on my bed. “Silk!” she moaned. “Velvet!”

Zoya picked up a kefta hanging over the back of my chair. It was gold brocade, the sleeves and hem embroidered lavishly in blue, the cuffs marked with jeweled sunbursts. “Sable,” she said to me, stroking the lining. “I have never loathed you more.”

“That one’s mine,” I said. “But the rest are up for grabs. I can’t wear all of them in West Ravka.”

“Did Nikolai have these made for you?” Nadia asked.

“He’s not a big believer in half measures.”

“Are you sure he wants you giving them away?”