Count Kirigin stepped forward. He’d chosen an alarming cobalt-blue coat trimmed in scarlet ribbon today. “Are the Suli not known for their far-seeing and their resilience?” he asked the chamber.

Nikolai was going to have to give that man a medal. Or maybe Zoya would.

“That’s right,” said the duchess of Caryeva. “I don’t care where she’s from. I will bow to the only queen who can take to the skies on black wings and put terror in our enemies’ hearts.”

Nikolai rose. “I say yes!” he cried to the chamber, his face alight with optimism and triumph. “We will have a Suli queen, a Grisha queen, a Ravkan queen!” He had never looked more golden or more grand.

A cheer went up from the Ravkans as the Fjerdans looked on with some concern.

Maybe that could be enough. Maybe. This moment was made of glass, fragile, ready to shatter into nothing if she made the wrong move.

“If this is the wish of the Ravkan people,” said Zoya slowly, “I will serve my country in whatever way I can.”

“But how do we know her power is holy?” The Apparat’s voice snaked through the room. Zoya had nearly forgotten about him and his Priestguard. “Are we so ready to forget the blight that has struck not only Ravka but every country represented in this room and beyond? Can it be mere coincidence that such a curse has befallen our lands when first a demon and then a dragon appear?” He spread his hands as if addressing his congregation, his questions ringing through the chamber. “How is it that Zoya Nazyalensky, an ordinary Grisha, should come to possess such abilities? She took the form of a reptile because she is one. I know this girl. I served as spiritual counselor to the king. She has a cruel, cold heart and can never be the mother Ravka needs.”

Zoya could make no reply to that. She had been cruel. She had been cold. There was a hard heart of iron in her that had allowed her to survive. And how was she meant to oppose the Apparat? Nikolai hadn’t thought of that, had he? The priest was believed to speak for the people, and in this chamber, his words carried as loudly as those chanting outside.

“Do you choose which Saints we’re free to worship now?”

That voice. Cool as well water. The Darkling emerged from the back of the chamber. He still wore the black robes of the Starless Saint. How had he even gained access to the hall?

The Apparat scoffed. “What right do you have to be here? A nameless monk following the banner of a madman.”

“Let us not concern ourselves with names,” said the Darkling, stepping into the light. “I have had so many of them.”