Ehri lay in a narrow bed. She wore a green silk dressing gown embroidered with pale yellow flowers. Her skin was a raw pink, shiny and taut. The fire had scorched the hair from her head, which was wrapped in soft white linen. She had no eyebrows or lashes. Genya had explained that it would still take several days to bring Ehri’s flesh and hair back to full health, but they had reversed the worst of the damage. It was a miracle she had survived—a miracle wrought by Grisha Healers, who had restored her body and kept her pain in check as they did it.

Nikolai sat down beside the bed. Ehri said nothing. She rolled her head to the side, turning her gaze to the gardens and away from him. A single tear slipped down her pink cheek. Nikolai drew a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed it away.

“I would prefer that you left,” she said.

That was what she’d said every time he’d summoned the will to speak to her since her true identity had been discovered. But he couldn’t put this off any longer.

“We should talk,” he said. “I’ve brought novels and summer cherries by way of a bribe.”

“Summer cherries. In the dead of winter.”

“It is never winter in the Grisha greenhouses.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m grotesque.”

“You are pink and rather hairless. Like a baby, and people love babies.” Actually, she looked more like the hairless cat his aunt Ludmilla had favored more than any of her children, but that seemed an impolitic thing to say to a lady.

Ehri did not wish to be charmed. “Must you make a joke of everything?”

“I must. By royal mandate and the curse of my own disposition. I find life quite unbearable without laughter.”

She returned to studying the gardens.

“Do you like the view?” he asked.

“This palace is nothing compared to the grandeur of Ahmrat Jen.”

“I imagine not. Ravka has never been able to match Shu Han for monuments or scenery. I’m told the architect Toh Yul-Gham took one look at the Grand Palace and declared it an affront to the eyes of god.”

The corner of Ehri’s lips tugged up in the barest smile. “Are you a student of architecture?”

“No. I just like to build things. Contraptions, gadgets, flying machines.”

“Weapons of war.”

“That has been a necessity, not a calling.”

Ehri shook her head and another tear escaped. Nikolai offered her the handkerchief. “Keep it,” he said. “It’s got the Lantsov crest embroidered on it. You can blow your nose into it and take revenge upon your captors.”

Ehri pressed it to her eyes. “Why? Why would the Tavgharad do such a thing? Shenye guarded my cradle while I slept as an infant. Tahyen taught me to climb trees. I don’t understand it.”

“What happened before we arrived that afternoon?”