Zoya whirled on him. “Show her respect or I will gut you where you stand.”

“No, Zoya,” Genya said. “He and I are due for a chat. I forgive you for these scars.” He couldn’t hide his surprise, and she laughed. “You didn’t expect that, did you? I don’t regret them. I found my way to who I was meant to be through the pain I endured. I’m stronger for it.”

“Consider it my gift to you.”

Nikolai saw Zoya’s fists clench. It was taking everything in her not to skewer the Darkling on a bolt of lightning.

“But the rest I can’t forgive,” Genya said. “You gave me to the queen’s household because you needed a spy. You knew the old king’s gaze would turn to me. You knew what I would endure.” She shut her eye, remembering. “You told me I was your soldier, that all of my suffering would be worth some future glory. It wasn’t.”

“The cost—”

“Do not speak of costs.” Her voice rang through the clearing, her red hair burning like autumn fire. The patch she wore was emblazoned with Alina’s symbol. It shone like a star. “If the cost was so necessary, then you should have been the one to pay it. I was a child and you offered me up as a sacrifice for your centuries-old war.” She laughed, a sad, small sound. “And the worst part is that no one remembers. When people speak of your crimes, they talk of the slaughter of Novokribirsk, your murder of the Grisha who were once under your care. What I lived through stayed hidden. I thought it was my shame to bear. Now I know it’s yours. You were father and friend and mentor. You were supposed to protect me.”

“I had a nation to protect, Genya.”

“A nation is its people,” Zoya said. “Genya, me, my aunt.”

The Darkling raised a brow. “When you are queen, you may find such calculations more difficult to make.”

“There will be no redemption for you,” Genya said. “The woman I am can forgive you for the punishment you dealt me. But for the sake of the child I was, there is no penance you can perform, no apology you can speak that will make me open my heart to you.”

“I don’t remember asking you to.”

Zoya’s eyes had gone silver, the pupils slitted. “Can I kill him before we shove him in the tree?”

Nikolai didn’t doubt that the Darkling deserved that and much worse, but he hesitated. “Something’s off here. What’s the catch?”

The Darkling lifted one shoulder. “An eternity of suffering as penance for my crimes. I ask but one thing.”

“Here it comes.”

“Build me an altar, so that I may be remembered.”

Zoya scowled. “As a tyrant? A killer?”