They passed through the gates and began the slow climb up the hill through the market and on to the bridge that would take them to the fine houses and parks of the upper town. People waved at Nikolai and his guards, shouted “Victory for Ravka!” News of their wins at Nezkii and Ulensk had begun to trickle in. This is only the start, he wanted to warn the hopeful people crowding the streets and leaning out of their windows. But all he did was smile and return their greetings.

“Most of the Lantsov line was wiped out the night of my ill-fated birthday party,” Nikolai said as he waved. He didn’t like to think of the night when the Darkling had attacked the capital. He’d disliked his brother Vasily, but he hadn’t been prepared to watch him die. “Still, there must be obscure cousins.”

“And is Demidov one of them?” asked Tolya.

Tamar shrugged. “He claims he’s from the household of Duke Limlov.”

“I remember visiting there as a child,” said Nikolai.

“Was there a boy named Vadik?” Zoya asked.

“Yes. He was a little shit who liked to taunt the cat.”

Tamar snorted. “It seems he’s taken to hunting bigger game.”

Maybe this boy was a Lantsov. Maybe he was the valet’s son. He might have a claim to the throne or he might just be a pawn. Why should a name give him some right to rule Ravka? And yet, it did. The same was true of Nikolai. He wasn’t a king because he could build ships or win battles. He was a king because of his supposed Lantsov blood. His mother had been a Fjerdan princess, a younger daughter sent far from home to forge an alliance with Ravka that no one intended to adhere to. And Nikolai’s true father? Well, if his mother was to be believed, he was a Fjerdan shipping magnate of common blood named Magnus Opjer—the same man who had recently provided Nikolai’s enemies with his mother’s love letters. It was bad enough Opjer cared nothing for the bastard son he’d sired, but to add insult to injury by trying to deny him a perfectly good throne? It spoke of a fundamental lack of manners.

Nikolai had sent his parents into exile in Kerch’s Southern Colonies during the civil war. It hadn’t been an easy decision. But his father hadn’t been a popular king and the army had begun to desert rather than follow him. When the extent of his crimes against Genya Safin had been revealed, Nikolai had given his father a choice: face trial for rape or relinquish his crown and go into permanent exile. It was not how Nikolai had wanted to become king, and he supposed he would never know if it was the right choice.