Nina was a trained covert operative. She’d made her way in the brothels of Ketterdam and run with the most dangerous thugs and thieves of the Barrel. She’d faced killers of every variety, and occasionally she chatted with the dead. But when the Wellmother spoke those words, Nina felt her heart plunge right out of her chest and slide all the way to her fur-lined slippers.

She only smiled.

“Mila,” she corrected gently. A misheard name, an innocent mistake.

The Wellmother lifted her hand and a gust of wind made the lamplight flicker, glinting off the twinkle in her eyes.

“You’re Grisha,” whispered Nina in shock. A Squaller.

“Foxes go to ground in the winter,” said the Wellmother in Ravkan.

“But they don’t fear the cold,” Nina replied.

She sat down on the sofa with a heavy thump. Her knees felt weak, and she was embarrassed to find tears in her eyes. She hadn’t spoken her language in so long.

“Our good king sends his thanks and his regards. He’s grateful for the intelligence you sent. It saved many Ravkan lives. And many Fjerdan lives too.”

Nina wanted to weep with gratitude. She’d had contact with messengers and members of the Hringsa, but to talk to one of her people? She hadn’t realized the weight she’d been carrying with her.

“Are you really from the convent?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “When the previous Wellmother disappeared, Tamar Kir-Bataar took the opportunity to install one of her spies there. I was undercover at a convent in the Elbjen before that.”

“How long have you been living this way? As a Fjerdan?”

“Thirteen years. Through wars and kings and coups.”

Thirteen years. Nina couldn’t fathom it. “Do you never … do you miss home?” She felt like a child asking.

“Every day. But I have a cause, just as you do. Your campaign of propaganda has been a bold one. I’ve seen the results myself. The girls under my care share stories of the Saints by moonlight.”

“And they’re punished for it?”

“Oh yes,” she said with a laugh. “The more we forbid talk of the Saints, the more fervent and determined they become.”

“Then I’m not in trouble?” She’d been following no order when she’d come to the Ice Court with Hanne and started staging miracles. After the stunt she’d pulled in Gäfvalle, she could have been dragged back to Ravka and court-martialed.

“General Nazyalensky said you would ask that and she said you absolutely are.”

Nina had to restrain a laugh. “How is she?”

“Terrifyingly competent.”

“And Adrik? Leoni?”

“Now that they’re Saints, they’re not fit for espionage work, but Adrik is commanding a team of Squallers and Leoni is working with David Kostyk’s Fabrikators. She did essential work on the antidote to jurda parem.”

“So,” said Nina, “they’re both stationed at the Little Palace.”