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Back Rule of Wolves Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. THE GRISHA
  5. THE DEMON KING
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. THE MAKING AT THE HEART OF THE WORLD
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  57. Also by Leigh Bardugo
  58. Praise for the Grishaverse
  59. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  60. Newsletter Sign-up

Maybe his country needed a monster.

He had one last gambit left, a final trick for the fox to play, a bit of hope dressed in shadow—his demon. But once the troops saw what he was, once his enemies knew the truth, the crown would be forever out of his grasp. So be it.

Go, he commanded. Stop them. Help keep my country free.

The demon hesitated. The thing inside him was him, and it knew what freedom meant this time. There would be no secrets anymore.

Good. Let Vadik Demidov have the throne. Ravka would survive.

With a roar, the demon launched itself from his body.

He was soaring over the battlefield, straight toward those horrible bells. He saw soldiers look up, faces cast in horror at the sight of the demon. They pointed and screamed, eyes wide with terror.

But the sound from the bells was too much. The vibration moved through his shadow body, fracturing it, dragging it apart. He fought to pull himself back together, but the closer he got to the Fjerdans, the harder it became. His wings, his body, unspooled around him.

Another mistake. It would be his last. The demon was going to shatter and Nikolai knew he would die with it.

Ravka would fall. After thousands of years of Lantsov kings. His people, his country, the Grisha. All lost.

Pain tore through Nikolai. The demon was breaking, flying apart. On his knees in the dirt, his mortal body screamed at the sky overhead. This was all that was left. His last chance to fight for his country before he fell into darkness forever.

He gritted his teeth, felt fangs in his mouth.

We die together.

The demon shrieked its response, full of pain, and anger, and iron will. They hurtled toward the bells.

38

THE MONK

SO THE BOY WAS GOING TO DIE. Maybe they were all going to die.

If his skull hadn’t been ringing like a church bell, Aleksander might have laughed. Instead he knelt on the ground with the rest of the Starless, hands clamped to his ears, trying to find a way out of this. The spectacles he’d used as a prop had fallen from his face and lay broken in the dirt. Wait for a sign, he’d told them. The Starless One will show us the way.

He’d intended to conjure a great blot of shadow, block out the sun, fill them with awe.

There would be no sign. He hadn’t anticipated a weapon like this one.

Again, he tried to summon his nichevo’ya, but they couldn’t take shape. Fjerda’s drugged Squallers were amplifying the vibrations from those bells in some way, preventing his shadows from finding their form.