“David and Genya were wed with little pomp on a rather hasty trip to Ketterdam,” Nikolai said. “They never had a chance to exchange their vows in Ravka.”

But they were speaking them now.

“Here, witnessed by our Saints and our friends,” Genya said, “I speak words of both love and duty. It is not a chore but an honor to swear faith to you, to promise love to you, to offer my hand and my heart to you in this life and the next.” They were the traditional Ravkan words, spoken at the weddings of nobleman and peasant alike.

The Grisha vows were very different.

“We are soldiers,” David recited, low and shaky. He was unused to speaking in front of a crowd. “I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return.” His voice grew stronger and louder with every word. “I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world and there is no one more beloved, Genya Safin, brave and unbreakable.” The vow rang through the chapel. Genya’s face was shining, as if those words had kindled some secret light.

Tolya, towering over the bride and groom, set a thorn-wood crown upon David’s head and then one upon Genya’s, as Vladim said the blessings. Nikolai would have liked to be a part of the ceremony, to stand with his friends in this moment of happiness when there was so much uncertainty before them. But this wedding had been constructed for the benefit of Queen Makhi, and there was no way he was leaving her side.

“You will answer my questions,” Makhi hissed. “We were brought here for your wedding to my accursed sister.”

“I don’t recall the invitation saying any such thing.”

Queen Makhi’s cheeks were red with indignation. “A royal wedding. It said a royal wedding.”

“And here we are in the royal chapel.”

“Where is Princess Ehri? Is she imprisoned? Has the wedding already taken place?”

“Now what good would a quiet ceremony do me? And who would marvel at my glorious new suit?”

“Where is my sister?” she whispered furiously.

Vladim was finishing the ceremony. David leaned forward to kiss Genya. He smiled, taking that same auburn strand of hair between his fingers. The guests burst into applause.

Now it was Nikolai’s turn to speak.

“She is home, Your Highness. In Ahmrat Jen. In Shu Han.”

Makhi blinked slowly. “Home,” she repeated. “In Shu Han.”

“Yes,” said Nikolai. “She and a regiment of Grisha guards and First Army soldiers departed via airship two days ago along with Tamar Kir-Bataar.”

“Tamar Kir-Bataar is a mongrel and a traitor.”