Chapter 6

Nikolai sat on the deck of the Kingfisher, waiting. They had arrived at the Grand Palace, and Alina and David had gone in ahead to alert Genya and Zoya so they could change Nikolai's double back before they snuck the real king back inside. He had changed into a spare pair of trousers and shirt so he didn't look too hideous in case anyone spotted him. But his hair was definitely tousled and there were the marks on his hands. He'd keep them stuffed in his pockets.

"Zoya's here," Nadia spoke up.

Nikolai took in a shuddering breath as Tamar and Tolya came over to help him up. They hemmed him in as they walked down the dry dock's steps. Despite the soft shoes David had fabrikated for him, every step was still painful, and his back was screaming again, so he was grateful for his friends' supportive arms bracing him. He just hoped no one spotted them.

Zoya was waiting on the ground, and she looked him over with a mask of careful professionalism. Nikolai remembered she had been in the room when he'd…changed, and he found he couldn't meet her eye.

She brought them in through a side entrance. She must have cleared the hall because they didn't come across anyone, and they reached Nikolai's room without being seen. Alina, David, and Genya were already there.

The twins helped Nikolai over to the bed and eased him down. The soft mattress sank beneath him, and he was overcome with the urge to fall over into it.

"His back is bleeding again," Tamar said.

So much for lying down. Nikolai gritted his teeth as Tolya helped him out of the shirt and Tamar unwound the bandages. He bit back pained noises as the linen stuck to sections of the wound and pulled when Tamar peeled it off. Nikolai bunched his fingers into the bed covering, focusing on holding himself upright. He didn't realize no one was moving until Alina spoke tentatively,

"Genya?"

He glanced over at the Tailor and saw she looked pale and terrified. Nikolai grimaced. "It's all right," he said. "I'm not dying." He shifted his gaze to Tamar. "Just stop the bleeding and bandage it again."

Genya gave herself a small shake, coming out of her frozen fright. "Let me see," she said firmly and came over. Her expression was still taut with barely contained terror, and her eyes flicked to the shadow wound on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about before," Nikolai said contritely. "Should anything go…awry, you have permission to knock me out."

She swallowed hard but then reached around to examine his back. He felt when she used her power to begin stitching muscle and skin back together. It was a strange sensation, not wholly painful, but not pleasant either.

"You have to breathe, moi tsar," she reminded him.

He exhaled the breath he'd been holding, which made his whole body shudder. Genya stepped away, and by the looks of relief in the room, Nikolai guessed she had managed to fully close the cuts on his back.

Tamar removed his shoes next so Genya could heal his feet, and he felt a pang of embarrassment at being treated like a child. But the pain vanished, and with it came a fresh wave of exhaustion.

Genya stared at his feet for a prolonged moment that prickled his unease, and he looked down to see the black scars had remained. Frowning, Genya moved to his hands, cradling one and moving her fingers over it. Nothing happened.

"I'm sorry…" she started.

"I understand," he said quickly and gave her a grateful look. "Some wounds scar."

She moved away, having finished her work, and now it was time to discuss the elephant in the room. But no one seemed willing to actually say it.

"So," Nikolai broke the awkward silence. "What do we do about…this?" He gestured to his shoulder and the black veins that still festered beneath his skin. The demon had been burned away by Alina's sun summoning, but it certainly wasn't gone. Nikolai dreaded to think it could reemerge at any time.

"I will pore over every text at my disposal," David promised.

"Are there any books or journals you don't have that could be useful?" Mal asked him.

David blinked in surprise, then nodded. "Well, yes…"

"Sturmhond will get them," Mal said.

Nikolai cleared his throat. "And if the demon returns?" he asked roughly.

"We know to keep an eye on it now," Alina said, flicking him an oddly pointed look. "It won't catch us off guard again."

Nikolai's stomach churned uncomfortably with doubt over that statement. But he supposed that was it, then. They had nothing else to go on. So he would just have to try to return to the business of running a country as usual.

Nikolai had always depended on the masks he wore for his different roles—as prince, as Sturmhond, and then as king. Even when things were falling apart and dire, he could hold those masks in place, display the confidence and charm he was known for.

He found it incredibly difficult now. What he had been through had left him haunted and subdued. He could still smell the coppery tang of blood, could sometimes taste it in the back of his throat. It made eating a most unappealing task. His shoulder still pained him as well, and every stab of fire made him afraid the demon was about to burst forth and take control again. It made him edgy and unfocused in his meetings. His advisors started asking if he was unwell, and he tried to brush it off so they wouldn't begin to doubt his ability to rule. But he worried they were already thinking thusly.

He wore gloves every time he left his room to conceal the scars he couldn't explain. He knew it had triggered a topic of gossip throughout the palace, but there was nothing he could do about that. He tried to focus on Ravka and let his friends focus on his…problem.

But in the meetings where Alina, Zoya, or Genya were present, he noticed them watching him a little too carefully. He wondered if they were prepared to take him down should the demon exert itself right here in the War Room in front of his military advisors. Talk about a scandalous turn in the reign of Nikolai Lantsov, bastard son of the former queen. There was a joke in there somewhere, he just couldn't think of one.

His sleep was rife with nightmares of swirling shadows and ripping talons. Sometimes it was the monster tearing him to pieces, and sometimes he was the one with the monstrous hands covered in blood as his friends lay eviscerated before him. Nikolai woke gasping and choking every night and clutching his shoulder, frantically checking to see if he was still human. He'd moved the mirror so it was the first thing he saw in the morning, the first confirmation that he was still himself. Even though he didn't feel like himself much anymore. This whole cycle was wearing him down.

The shadow veins weren't spreading like before, but the pain was constant, and it flared worse at times, often catching him off guard. He'd confided in Tolya and Tamar, and they tried to help, but their powers weren't able to do much with the shadow wound. Nikolai had to be stoic about it, soldiering on as was needed of him.

But then one morning the pain flared so badly that his whole body seized. He couldn't move his arms enough to get dressed, and he finally gave in and called for Genya. He remembered she'd received an amplifier from Baghra, so maybe she could offer him at least some relief.

It was only when she entered his private room and immediately tensed at finding herself alone with a half-dressed king that Nikolai mentally chastised himself.

"Genya, I'm sorry," he said hurriedly. "I didn't think." He was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, bowed over in pain.

"What do you need?" she asked stiffly.

"I confess I can barely move," he said breathlessly. "The wound, it- it flares up."

Her expression shifted to concern and she came over, only to pause again at the sight of the inky tendrils.

Nikolai grimaced. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I should have called for Tolya or Tamar."

"Shh," she tutted and raised her hands to work over the wound.

Nikolai was holding himself together so tightly that he could barely feel her power working, and he feared it wouldn't at all. But she kept at it, and several minutes later, the pain finally began to calm down to a simmer.

He sagged and whispered, "Thank you."

Genya looked troubled. "How often does it pain you?"

He slid off the bed and around her to grab his shirt. "It hurts constantly," he admitted as he did up the buttons. "But not always at the same intensity. This morning was particularly bad."

"You should have said something sooner."

"I know the wound can't be healed by Grisha power." He hesitated. "The pain isn't fully gone even now. But I very much appreciate your effort, and at least now I can stand in a room full of people scrutinizing my every move." He looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced; he looked horrible. "Would you kindly tailor away these dark circles?" he asked.

She came over to him again and swept her thumbs underneath his eyes.

"I must keep up my charming good looks," he attempted to jest, but his voice and quip fell flat.

Genya didn't meet his eyes.

Nikolai sighed. "I apologize. That was insensitive."

"I know you're not asking out of vanity," she replied dismissively.

He turned back to the mirror, looking himself over with a critical eye. He looked presentable now, and more like his old self. "This…inner circle, are the only things holding me together at this point," he confessed. He let out a humorless huff. "I am a dolled up figurehead stitched together by strings and hanging as a display. You all are doing the real work."

"That's not true," Genya said. "You are leading this country, working on the war efforts. Ravka needs you, and is already better for having you as king."

Nikolai managed a small smile. "I appreciate the sentiment."

She brushed lint off his shirt. "It's not sentiment, it's the truth."

"Thank you, Genya," he said sincerely.

She nodded. "I'll come by every morning to check on your pain level. And make you presentable," she added with a quirked grin.

He returned it.

The mask was back in place.

But as if leading a war-torn country through more war on two fronts wasn't difficult enough, carrying this burden made it nigh unbearable, even with his friends' support. Between the nightmares, sleepless nights, pain, and the evil festering inside him, Nikolai was being ground into the dirt.

He was at another meeting when the voices of his officials turned muffled, and he realized he hadn't heard a word they'd said when he snapped back into focus to an awkward silence. The officials exchanged looks with each other, and Nikolai mentally berated himself. He needed to not show weakness.

"That's all for today," Zoya announced. "The king is needed for an important matter that just arose."

Nikolai ignored the murmurs as he followed Zoya out. He didn't even know where she was leading him and was surprised when she brought him to his private study.

"What important matter am I needed for?" he asked tiredly.

"A break."

He furrowed his brows. "You made it up?"

"No. You looked ready to fall over. I made the strategic decision to remove you from doing it in front of your council."

Nikolai sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "Well then, thank you."

He dropped into one of the chairs, then blinked as he noticed the window he'd broken through that horrible night. It'd been boarded up but not fixed. A pane of glass was low on the priority list—and budget.

"How did you explain that?" he asked curiously.

"A demonstration of my storm summoning got out of hand."

"Hm, I'd like to see such an impressive display sometime."

Zoya maintained that stiff, soldier posture where she stood. "You're not eating."

Nikolai arched a brow at her. "You've been watching me that closely? I'm flattered."

She rolled her eyes. "Alina has mentioned it. And the safety of my king is my concern, which includes his health."

He smirked. "Unfortunately, the latter has already bested us both."

Her gaze narrowed. "How do you expect to keep up your strength if you don't eat?"

"Thank you for your concern, General Nazyalenksy," he said with a touch of impatience. "I'll make a note to do better."

Zoya looked at him as though she didn't believe him. Nikolai merely gazed back expectantly, waiting for her to leave. But she didn't budge. Then there was a knock at the door, and she went to answer it. Nikolai assumed she was being called away, but she came back in with a tray of food.

Nikolai sighed, that impatience turning to irritation.

Zoya set the tray on the table next to him, then regarded him with a pointed look.

"Are you going to stand there and watch me eat, General?"

"Standing guard is one of my duties."

"Because the venison looks quite threatening. Have you taste tested it for poison?"

She rolled her eyes and snatched up a scrap, which she popped in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

Nikolai couldn't help the twitch of his lips at her, and he sat up straighter as he moved the plate to his lap. He shot her a "are you happy now?" look. She was schooled as ever.

Nikolai shook his head and started to eat, but the moment he placed some of the meat on his tongue, his stomach immediately lurched and threatened to revolt. He hastily set the plate back on the tray and turned away from it.

Zoya frowned in what might have been concern.

Nikolai attempted a disarming smile. "Maybe later."

"Are you ill?" she asked. "I can send for Genya."

"No," he said quickly. "It's not that. I just…haven't been able to stomach much food since…" He gestured vaguely at the boarded-up window.

Zoya didn't say anything for a long moment, then wordlessly took the tray away, to his relief.

Nikolai went back to work and his many meetings and strategizing sessions. A little while later, though, Zoya came and cleared the room of everyone, then gave him a bowl of broth to try.

"It should be gentle enough, but it has plenty of nutrients," she said.

Nikolai was hesitant, but he took a cautious sip. The broth tasted rich and warm and went down all right. He took another sip. This was doable.

"Thank you," he told her.

Zoya brought him broth for meals from then on. He presumed she hadn't told the kitchen staff or servants it was for him so, again, suspicions weren't aroused.

It was awkward when he shared meals with Alina. Her obvious concern for him was touching but he didn't like worrying her. She had enough to deal with. They were both kept quite busy, but they also frequently dressed up to make their appearances as the engaged couple they were. Nikolai was careful with his affection, turning just so to make it look like they were stealing a kiss but never crossing that line. Mal wasn't always there, as he was sometimes running errands as Sturmhond, but Nikolai didn't want to make more of a show than he needed to, regardless.

Nikolai Lantsov knew how to wear the masks.

But every day he felt a little more of himself being gnawed away by this thing festering inside him. And he worried it wouldn't take the demon bursting out to lose himself in the end.