Zoya ignored the compliment. “Why can’t it be as simple as war? One enemy facing another in honest combat? No, now we have some kind of monstrous blight to face.”

“Ravka likes to keep things interesting,” said Nikolai. “Don’t you enjoy a challenge?”

“I enjoy a nap,” said Zoya. “I can’t remember the last time I was allowed to sleep in.”

“None of that. A full night’s sleep might put you in a good mood, and I need you at your most disgruntled.”

“Keep spewing inanities and you may see me at my worst.”

“All Saints, are you saying I haven’t seen you at your worst?”

Zoya tossed her hair. “If you had, you’d be under the covers, gibbering prayers.”

“A unique way of getting me into bed, but who am I to question your methods?”

Zoya rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for the distraction of this easy back-and-forth. This was safe, simple, nothing like the quiet of his bedchamber, his hand tight in hers. And what would she do when Nikolai was married and propriety rose like a wall between them?

She straightened her spine and tightened the ribbon in her hair. She would get by just fine, as she always had. She was a military commander, not a simpering girl who wilted from a lack of attention.

The old zoo was located in the wooded area on the eastern end of the palace grounds. It had been abandoned generations ago, but somehow it still smelled of the animals that had been caged there. Zoya had seen the weathered illustrations: a leopard in a jeweled collar, a lemur wearing a velvet waistcoat and performing tricks, a white bear imported from Tsibeya that had mauled three different keepers before escaping. It had never been caught, and Zoya hoped it had somehow found its way home.

The zoo was built in the shape of a large circle, the old cages facing outward and overgrown with brambles. At the center was a high tower that had once housed an aviary at the top. Now it was home to a different animal.

As Zoya climbed the stairs behind Nikolai, she felt the ancient intelligence inside her rouse—thinking, calculating. It always seemed to come alive with her anger or her fear.

The Fold is expanding. Nikolai had said the words so easily, as if remarking upon the weather. I hear there will be rain tomorrow.

The calla lilies are in bloom again.

The world is being devoured by nothingness and we have to find a way to stop it. More tea?

But that was always the way. The world might crumble, but Nikolai Lantsov would be holding up the ceiling with one hand and plucking a speck of dirt from his lapel with the other when it all went to ruin.