Leigh Bardugo - Shadow and Bone

Botkin was still gruff and critical, and took every opportunity to call me useless, but once in a while I thought I glimpsed a hint of approval on his weathered features.

Late in winter, he took me aside after a long lesson in which I’d actually managed to land a blow to his ribs (and been thanked for it with a hard cuff across my jaw).

“Here,” he said, handing me a heavy knife in a steel and leather sheath. “Always keep with you.”

With a jolt, I saw that it was no ordinary knife. It was Grisha steel. “Thank you,” I managed.

“Not ‘thank you,’” he said. He tapped the ugly scar at his throat. “Steel is earned.”

Winter looked different to me than it ever had before. I spent sunny afternoons skating on the lake or sledding on the palace grounds with the other Summoners. Snowy evenings were spent in the domed hall, gathered around the tile ovens, drinking kvas and gorging ourselves on sweets. We celebrated the feast of Sankt Nikolai with huge bowls of dumpling soup and kutya made with honey and poppy seeds. Some of the other Grisha left the palace to go on sleigh rides and dogsledding excursions in the snow-blanketed countryside surrounding Os Alta, but for security reasons, I was still confined to the palace grounds.

I didn’t mind. I felt more comfortable with the Summoners now, but I doubted I’d ever really enjoy being around Marie and Nadia. I was much happier sitting in my room with Genya, drinking tea and gossiping by the fire. I loved to hear all the court gossip, and even better were the tales of the opulent parties at the Grand Palace. My favorite was the story of the massive pie that a count had presented to the King, and the dwarf who had burst out of it to hand the tsaritsa a bouquet of forget-me-nots.

At the end of the season, the King and the Queen would host a final winter fete that all the Grisha would attend. Genya claimed it would be the most lavish party of all. Every noble family and high court officer would be there, along with military heroes, foreign dignitaries, and the tsarevitch , the King’s eldest son and heir to the throne. I’d once seen the Crown Prince riding around the palace grounds on a white gelding that was roughly the size of a house. He was almost handsome, but he had the King’s weak chin and eyes so heavy-lidded that it was hard to tell if he was tired or just supremely bored.

“Probably drunk,” said Genya, stirring her tea. “He devotes all his time to hunting, horses, and imbibing. Drives the Queen mad.”

“Well, Ravka is at war. He should probably be more concerned with matters of state.”

“Oh she doesn’t care about that. She just wants him to find a bride instead of gallivanting around the world spending mounds of gold buying up ponies.”

“What about the other one?” I asked. I knew the King and Queen had a younger son, but I’d never actually seen him.

“ Sobachka ?”

“You can’t call a royal prince ‘puppy,’” I laughed.

“That’s what everyone calls him.” She lowered her voice. “And there are rumors that he isn’t strictly royal.”

I nearly choked on my tea. “No!”

“Only the Queen knows for sure. He’s a bit of a black sheep anyway. He insisted on doing his military service in the infantry, then he apprenticed to a gunsmith.”

“And he’s never at court?”

“Not in years. I think he’s off studying shipbuilding or something equally dull. He’d probably get along well with David,” she added sourly.

“What do you two talk about, anyway?” I asked curiously. I still didn’t quite understand Genya’s fascination with the Fabrikator.

She sighed. “The usual. Life. Love. The melting point of iron ore.” She wound a curl of bright red hair around her finger, and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “He’s actually quite funny when he lets himself be.”

“Really?”

Genya shrugged. “ I think so.”

I patted her hand reassuringly. “He’ll come around. He’s just shy.”

“Maybe I should lie down on a table in the workroom and wait to see if he welds something to me.”

“I think that’s the way most great love stories begin.”

She laughed, and I felt a sudden niggle of guilt. Genya talked so easily about David, but I’d never confided in her about Mal.

That’s because there’s nothing to confide , I reminded myself harshly and added more sugar to my tea.

ONE QUIET AFTERNOON when the other Grisha had ventured out of Os Alta, Genya convinced me to sneak into the Grand Palace, and we spent hours looking through the clothes and shoes in the Queen’s dressing room. Genya insisted that I try on a pale pink silk gown studded with riverpearls, and when she laced me up in it and stuck me in front of one of the giant golden mirrors, I had to look twice.

I’d learned to avoid mirrors. They never seemed to show me what I wanted to see. But the girl standing next to Genya in the glass was a stranger. She had rosy cheeks and shiny hair and… a shape. I could have stared at her for hours. I suddenly wished good old Mikhael could see me. “Sticks” indeed , I thought smugly.

Genya caught my eye in the mirror and grinned.

“Is this why you dragged me in here?” I asked suspiciously.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I just thought you might want to get a good look at yourself, that’s all.”

I swallowed the embarrassing lump in my throat and gave her an impulsive hug. “Thanks,” I whispered. Then I gave her a little shove. “Now get out of the way. It’s impossible to feel pretty with you standing next to me.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon trying on dresses and goggling at ourselves in the mirror—two activities I never would have expected to enjoy. We lost track of time, and Genya had to help me scramble out of an aquamarine ball gown and back into my kefta so that I could hurry down to the lake for my evening lesson with Baghra. I ran all the way but I was still late, and she was furious.

The evening sessions with Baghra were always the hardest, but she was particularly tough on me that night.

“Control!” she snapped as the weak wave of sunlight that I’d summoned flickered on the lakeshore. “Where is your focus?”

At dinner , I thought but didn’t say. Genya and I had gotten so caught up in the distractions of the Queen’s wardrobe that we’d forgotten to eat, and my stomach was growling.

I centered myself and the light bloomed brighter, reaching out over the frozen lake.

“Better,” she said. “Let the light do the work for you. Like calls to like.”

I tried to relax and let the light call to itself. To my surprise, it surged across the ice, illuminating the little island in the middle of the lake.

“More!” Baghra demanded. “What’s stopping you?”

I dug deeper and the circle of light swelled past the island, bathing the whole lake and the school on the opposite shore in gleaming sunlight. Though there was snow on the ground, the air around us shone bright and heavy with summer heat. My body thrummed with power. It was exhilarating, but I could feel myself tiring, bumping up against the limits of my abilities.

“More!” Baghra shouted.

“I can’t!” I protested.

“More!” she said again, and there was an urgency in her voice that sounded an alarm inside of me and caused my focus to falter. The light wavered and slipped from my grasp. I scrambled for it but it rushed away from me, plunging the school, then the island, and then the lakeshore back into darkness.

“It’s not enough.” His voice made me jump. The Darkling emerged from the shadows onto the lamplit path.

“It might be,” said Baghra. “You see how strong she is. I wasn’t even helping her. Give her an amplifier and see what she can do.”