“Don’t say that, Redvin,” said Ylva. “He endured a terrible illness when he was a child. It was a blessing he survived.”

Brum’s expression was unforgiving. “It would have been a greater mercy if he’d perished.”

“Would you follow that boy into battle?” Redvin asked.

“We may have to,” said Brum. “When the old king passes.”

But Nina didn’t miss the look that Brum exchanged with his fellow drüskelle. Would Brum consider colluding against the prince?

Nina tried not to look too interested and kept her attention on the processional of young women. Once each girl reached the fountain, she curtsied to the royal family observing from the dais beyond, and then curtsied again to the prince. Prince Rasmus took a pewter cup from a tray held by a servant beside him, dipped it into the fountain, and offered it to the girl, who drank deeply of Djel’s waters before returning the cup, curtsying once more, then backing down the aisle the way she’d come—careful never to turn her back on the Grimjer royals—where she was greeted by family and friends.

It was an odd little ritual, meant to mark Djel’s blessing over the season of balls and dances to come. But Nina’s focus was only partially devoted to the monotonous parade. The rest was given over to the crowd. It didn’t take her long to spot the man she knew must be Vadik Demidov. He stood close to the dais in a position of privilege, and Nina felt a shock of rage when she saw he wore a sash of pale blue and gold emblazoned with the Ravkan double eagle. The Little Lantsov. He bore a striking resemblance to the portraits she’d seen in the halls of the Grand Palace. Maybe too close a resemblance. Had they found a Grisha Tailor to make him look like Nikolai’s father? And if so, who was he really? Nina was going to have to get close enough to him to find out.

Her gaze moved on and met another pair of eyes staring directly at her—their irises so dark they seemed almost black. A chill spread over Nina’s body. She forced herself to ignore the Apparat’s piercing stare, to keep her attention roving over the crowd, an interested bystander and nothing more. But she felt as if a cold hand had closed over her heart. She knew the priest had come to the Fjerdan court, that he had forged an alliance to back Vadik Demidov, but she hadn’t expected to see him here. There’s no way for him to recognize you, she told herself. And yet his gaze had certainly felt knowing. She had to hope his interest was only in Brum’s household.

Ylva’s slender fingers dug into Nina’s arm. “It’s time!” she whispered excitedly. Hanne was next to make the walk down the aisle. “Her dress is perfect.”