“I’m not susceptible to flattery, only stacks of cash. This can’t be done, not if you want it quiet and bloodless. If you’re willing to take out a few guards or let Wylan blow a hole in this thing—”

“No,” said Nikolai firmly. “Ravka’s relationship with Kerch is strained enough. I don’t want to give them an excuse to ditch their neutrality and use the izmars’ya to help Fjerda break my blockade.”

“If Inej were here—” said Jesper.

Kaz’s gaze was hard as flint. “You can keep saying that, but she isn’t. The best we can do is wait. I can get two more Dregs here by tomorrow. Anika. Rotty, maybe.”

A high wail sounded from somewhere in the distance, a shrill cry that might be human or animal or something else entirely. Zoya felt a chill pass through her that had nothing to do with the cold. This place isn’t meant for us. She felt it in her bones.

“Saints,” said Jesper, “what was that?”

Another wail followed, long and piercing. The fog seemed to seethe around them, forming shapes that melted into nothing before Zoya could truly make them out.

Jesper set his hands on his revolvers. “These cliffs are supposed to be haunted.”

“You don’t actually believe that,” said Wylan.

“I believe in all kinds of things. Ghosts. Gnomes. True love.”

Now another sound—a low hiss—seemed to crawl up from the sea, rising and falling in undulating waves. Zoya felt it like fingers brushing up her spine, making the hair on her arms rise.

“Enough,” she snapped. She’d had all she could stand of this Saintsforsaken country. She lifted her hands and the fog rolled back in a gust—revealing a circle of people around them, some of them in jackal masks, others with dark scarves pulled up to hide their faces. Moonlight glinted off the barrels of their guns.

“Suli,” whispered Jesper.

“You’re not welcome in this place,” said a gruff voice. It was impossible to tell which side of the circle it had come from. That same low, crawling hiss followed.

“We don’t mean any harm,” Jesper began.

“That’s why you snuck up on our camp in the dead of night?”

“We should let the sea have them,” said another voice. “Send them screaming over the cliff tops.”

“My apologies,” Nikolai said, stepping forward. “We had no intention of—”

Click click click. Like fingers snapping. The sound of triggers being cocked.

“No,” said Zoya, putting a hand out to stop him. “Don’t apologize. That will only make it worse.”

“I see,” said Nikolai. “Then what is protocol for an ambush?”

Zoya turned to the circle. “Our goal is to stop a war. But this place was not ours to trespass on.”

“Perhaps you came looking for death,” said another voice.