No. 17: Collar

The feast in the Grand Palace was a rather somber one, in Nikolai's opinion. Sure, there was some raucous carousing by those who truly reveled in Kirigan's victory over Ravka, but there were a good many others who were more subdued—who feared the Darkling and his power more than loved him. Yet they had chosen to follow him anyway, were more or less driven to it by the treatment the Grisha had received from otkazat'sya. In that, Nikolai could hardly blame all of them. He supposed some of them were almost as much a prisoner as he was.

The chain attached to the collar around his neck pulled taut, yanking his head up and back painfully. Nikolai gritted his teeth as Kirigan sneered down at him from the throne.

"What's the matter, my little Sobachka?" the Darkling tutted. "Not having a good time?"

Nikolai held his tongue. Witty quips earned him a beating, and he'd learned to save them for when he could really get one under Kirigan's skin.

The Darkling dropped the chain, and Nikolai sagged back against the side of the throne. The collar and chain gave him just enough slack to sit at the usurper's feet like a leashed dog. The nickname didn't help with the image, which Nikolai supposed was why Kirigan had opted to keep him alive and imprisoned in this manner.

Some of the Darkling's favored Grisha walked past and delivered a parting kick to Nikolai's side as they went. He curled in on himself, arms cradling bruised, maybe fractured, ribs. A few times Kirigan had allowed his Grisha to beat Nikolai within an inch of his life, but then had a Healer repair the damage. The Darkling wasn't going to let death have his prize. Nor was he going to make Nikolai's captivity comfortable. As if the mortification of being chained like an animal wasn't bad enough.

But being kept alive meant there was still hope to figure out an escape, to find survivors who would stand with him against the Darkling. Nikolai could only hope Alina was still out there somewhere, fighting.

Though he also wouldn't blame her if she and Mal had run away together to find that normal life they wanted, leave Ravka to her doomed fate.

Nikolai's shoulders slumped; he really didn't know how he was going to find a way out of this. And the longer he was held captive with little food and repeated beatings, the weaker he became.

The night wore on and gradually the Grisha retired, until only Kirigan was left, stewing on his throne. Nikolai waited several minutes before daring to speak.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Kirigan lolled a dark look down at him. "Your defiance was amusing in the beginning."

"Thank you."

Kirigan backhanded him so hard his head snapped to the side and he went sprawling on the dais. "It's a shame the other members of your family didn't survive the war. I would have liked an entire brood of sniveling Lantsovs chained up here at my feet."

"Only Vasily would have sniveled," Nikolai retorted.

Kirigan snorted.

"Also, to be fair," Nikolai went on, slowly sitting up again. "I'm not actually a Lantsov."

"You still serve as a reminder to all Grisha what I have saved them from."

"We never chained anyone up."

Kirigan smirked. "Get some sleep, Sobachka, you're looking peaky."

With that, he strode out of the hall, his shadows falling over the room behind him and leaving Nikolai in utter darkness.

He lay down on his side and tried to curl into a ball to conserve warmth in the cold room, while also being careful of his injured ribs. Sleep was always hard to come by in these conditions.

The mornings were always the same; someone brought him scraps of food they dumped on the floor for him to eat off of. There was a chamber pot tucked behind the throne for him to use, but he suspected only so he wouldn't smell too foul at Kirigan's feet. Nikolai had half a mind to take a piss on the throne, but he knew from experience the torture the Darkling could inflict with his shadows and it wasn't worth that.

Grisha came and went through the hall, often stopping to snicker at the puppy prince, or do worse. He had a new split lip by lunch time. Not that he got fed during the day anyway. His injuries were uncomfortable and painful but Kirigan would let them reach a certain threshold before he'd have them healed.

Two Grisha entered the room and strode straight toward him, and Nikolai braced himself for further abuse. When one of them leaned down, he couldn't help but flinch away. But the man merely fabrikated the chain free from its bolt in the floor.

"Come on," the other said gruffly.

Nikolai faltered and received a sharp yank for it. His legs had spent so much time bent on the floor that it was difficult for them to straighten and support his weight. The two Grisha shared a look.

"This is what happens when you break your toys," Nikolai quipped.

The woman gave another tug on the chain.

"Hey," someone called from across the room. "What are you doing?"

"Kirigan wants him for a special demonstration," she said tartly.

"I wasn't told about this."

"Kirigan tells you everything, does he?"

The other backed down, and Nikolai hobbled along with his escorts. He couldn't imagine what demonstration Kirigan would devise that was more provocative than the current one, and a trickle of dread began to niggle at him. Nikolai instinctively began to slow his pace and pull back. Again, his guards exchanged an odd look before the woman yanked on the chain again.

"Keep moving."

He nearly tripped as they quickened their speed, practically dragging him when he couldn't quite keep up. They exited the palace into the open air and headed toward one of the gates.

"Let me guess," he muttered. "Puppy on parade?" To drag him before his people, the non-Grisha left alive in the city, was certainly something Kirigan would relish in.

Neither escort responded.

It wasn't until they were outside the palace walls and heading away from the buildings and streets that Nikolai belatedly realized this was something else.

"What is this?" he asked, alarm zinging through him.

"Not yet," the woman hissed, breaking into a jog.

Nikolai couldn't keep his feet and finally tripped, pitching forward to land on his hands and knees on the ground. The collar yanked painfully against his neck when the chain pulled taut.

"Sorry, sorry!" the woman gushed, her tone completely changing.

"Do it now," the man said, kneeling down beside Nikolai and working his Durast abilities on the collar to remove it.

The woman reached for Nikolai's face, and he recoiled.

"Who are you?"

"There's no time," she urged. "Now hold still."

Nikolai's heart was pounding as the woman did…something, to him. It almost felt like his nose was being shifted around—and he realized she had to have been tailoring his features.

The man sprinted away a few yards and then came back with a small knapsack, from which he pulled out a cloak that he threw over Nikolai's shoulders and pulled the hood up over his head.

"That'll have to do," the woman said and stood up.

Nikolai was still at a loss, but it was clear that whoever these two were, they were freeing him from Kirigan, so he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He didn't argue this time when they set off again, though his legs were still stiff and ungainly.

"Can you heal him?" the man asked the woman.

She cast a look back at Nikolai. "Maybe. Later. When we're a safe distance away."

"If there's such a thing," the man muttered.

"You're Grisha," Nikolai said.

"Yes," the woman answered curtly.

"And you're betraying Kirigan."

"I've seen what he's capable of," she replied, then paused for a long moment. "What a horrible mistake we made."

Nikolai hurried to catch up to her side. "Thank you."

She gave him a clipped nod, and then they fell silent as they continued into a heavily wooded area.

"Not that I don't appreciate the rescue," Nikolai said after a while. "But do you have a plan?"

The pair exchanged another look.

"Find Alina Starkov," the woman said.

Well, they agreed on that.

Finally, the two allowed a stop, and Nikolai collapsed against a tree. The woman moved her hands over her own face, morphing it into another. She then did the same to the man. Nikolai's eyes widened.

"Wait, I know you. You're Genya Safin. The woman who poisoned the king!"

She snapped a hard gaze toward him. "He wouldn't have been poisoned if he had kept his hands off me."

Nikolai blinked. "What?"

The young man stepped in front of her, his chin raised. "She did what she had to to survive."

Nikolai's mouth turned down. While a large part of him was filled with righteous ire at this woman…a part of him had a sinking suspicion of what she meant by her words.

"We have bigger problems right now," he said instead.

She came over and knelt next to him. Nikolai tensed as she raised a hand, though he figured it was to remove the tailoring job she had done. "We're very sorry for the treatment on our way out. We had to keep up appearances."

"Understandable," he replied. "And I do thank you for the rescue. I know it was a great risk to yourselves."

They all shared a sober look at that.

"This is David Kostyk," Genya introduced.

David inclined his head. "Your highness."

"Nice to meet you. And call me Nikolai." He pushed himself to his feet with effort. "So, now what? How do we find the Sun Summoner?"

"The Sea Whip," David answered.

Nikolai waited for him to elaborate, then arched his brows in question when he didn't.

"Ah, it's the second of Morozova's amplifiers. Alina already got the first one, the Stag. If she has any hope to defeat Kirigan, she'll be looking for the second."

"The Sea Whip is a myth," Nikolai said bemusedly. "But then again, so was the Stag. All right, it sounds like we're going to need a ship."

"Er, yes. We hadn't quite worked that far ahead yet," David admitted sheepishly.

Nikolai grinned. "Not to worry; I know just where to get one."