“The Fabrikators made it for me. They had to sew two together.”

They descended the steps, where the royal guard had already positioned themselves in front of the remaining members of the Grisha Triumvirate. The white stone stairs had been scrubbed clean of any sign of the violence that had been done there only a short time ago, and every balustrade and balcony had been festooned with clouds of hortensia in the pale blue and green of Ravka and the Shu Han. If only it were so easy to bring two countries together.

“Tolya!” Genya exclaimed as they joined her and David on the steps. “Red suits you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Tolya grumbled, but he couldn’t stop from preening like a heavily muscled peacock at the compliment.

Genya wore a kefta of shimmering gold, her red hair braided with slender strands of river pearls, and David’s hair had been properly cut for once.

“You both look splendid,” said Nikolai.

David took his wife’s hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Genya’s cheeks flushed pink with pleasure. Nikolai knew David’s gesture had been learned. The Fabrikator wasn’t given to spontaneous demonstrations of affection, but they made his wife happy, and he loved to see his wife happy. Then David reached out and rubbed a piece of her silky red hair between his fingers. Genya blushed even more deeply.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Studying something beautiful,” he said without the faintest hint of flattery, as if he truly were trying to find the formula for the woman before him.

“Stop making moon eyes at each other,” Nikolai said, not meaning a word of it. They deserved to be happy. Lucky bastards.

A rider appeared on the main drive to tell them the Shu had reached the double-eagle gates, and a plume of dust from the road announced their presence a moment later.

The Shu carriages were of exquisite make, the black lacquer shimmering green in the sunlight like a beetle’s back, their doors bearing the two crossed keys of the Shu flag emblazoned in gold.

The Tavgharad rode in processional beside the carriages, their horses as black as their uniforms and their caps set at a sharp angle on their heads. On these very steps, their sisters had died mere weeks before. By order of their queen. And Nikolai knew that these women would set themselves alight just as fast should Makhi command it.