They’d traveled via airship to a field just a few miles from the sanatorium, the Sun Soldiers bending light around the craft to keep them camouflaged. It was a trick David had devised and Alina had pioneered to evade the Darkling’s forces during the civil war. Zoya remembered that terrifying flight from the Spinning Wheel, summoning wind to keep them aloft for hour after hour as they tried to put some distance between themselves and their pursuers. That was the same day Adrik had lost his arm to the Darkling’s shadow soldiers.

She watched the Darkling now, seated across from her in the coach. His hands and feet were shackled and four Sun Soldiers rode alongside. The rest of their unit had gone ahead to prepare the sanatorium and set up security.

The Darkling had been kept blindfolded in the airship, and the coach’s windows were covered by shades that blocked the view but let in the afternoon light. The less he knew about where they were going, the better. Despite the chains that bound him, it was disconcerting to share such close quarters, the shadows creeping in around them.

He has no power, she had to keep reminding herself. And she knew he was just as uneasy as she was. The expression on his face when the airship had taken off would give her joy for the rest of her life.

“Where is she?” he repeated, his gray quartz eyes glinting in the gloom. “You might as well tell me now.”

“How is it you don’t know?” asked Zoya. “Your dear Sankta Elizaveta was nearly omniscient.”

The Darkling studied the closed shade as if there was a view to behold. “She wouldn’t tell me.”

Zoya didn’t bother to stifle her pleasure. “A jealous Saint. Who knew? I’ll tell you about the meeting after you tell me about the thorn wood. Is this monastery you spoke of real?”

“It is.”

“But there’s some kind of catch, isn’t there?”

“It’s possible that it’s located in the Sikurzoi.”

The mountains that ran along the Ravkan border with Shu Han. The lower hills were crawling with patrols of Shu soldiers, and the rocky terrain beyond would be hard to traverse. But Tamar would find a way to get them where they needed to be. “An inconvenient obstacle, but hardly an insurmountable one.”

“It’s also possible the path to this particular monastery was blocked by a landslide nearly three hundred years ago, and only the monks know the way through.”

“Then we’ll simply go over it.”

“It’s also possible no one has spoken to or heard from these monks for another three hundred years before that.”

“Saints’ blood,” she swore. “You have no idea if these monks have thorn-wood seeds.”

“I know they had them.”

“You don’t even know if they really exist!”

“Perhaps it’s a matter of faith. Are you thinking of killing me, Zoya?”

“Yes.”