A year after Alina Starkov tears down the Shadow Fold, she is finally able to settle into her peaceful life. There is no more war with Ravka. The Darkling, once her enemy, is now a loyal, protective husband, and a father to their adoptive daughter...
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TᕼE YOᑌᑎG ᗪᑌᖇEST fidgets as he stands before me in the vast empty throne room, switching from foot to foot nervously. "I–I really shouldn't be here," he stutters. A lock of brown hair falls in his face as he looks over his shoulder, anxious about the Darkling's return, but I made sure he was preoccupied before requesting Mikkel's presence. The Darkling may think he can keep all his secrets from me, but I was able to find out who made the silver shackle within the Little Palace.
Yesterday, as I was in my room, I pretended to be asleep as the servant women came in. I heard one of them say, "It wasn't his fault. The boy was just following orders."
Another said, "Mikkel knew exactly what he was making when the King asked him to enslave this poor girl."
She was cut off sharply by the third woman, much older than the two before her. "Hush, Antonia! It's the Queen you are speaking of in such an improper manner. Now, get her trays. I hope to the saints that she eats today. It's been days."
Their voices faded as they walked out, but they left me with key information including who made the shackle.
I had to be stealthy about how and when I invited Mikkel to the Grand Palace since I can't simply visit him at the Little Palace. So when I finally got my chance, I took it.
I stare at the caramel-eyed boy with anguish. He looks fourteen, fifteen at most. Red pimples speckle his chin and nose. I feel sorry for the kid. He had no choice in making this restraint for me, but he was also required to answer my order to come here since I am the Queen with just as much power as the Darkling.
"Mikkel," I greet, "I'm sorry that you got caught in the middle of this, but I need to ask you a favor."
He nods, but fear flares in his eyes like wildfire.
"I need you to take this off." I roll up the sleeve of my light blue and gold-lined gown—the only item of clothing I own that is not black—revealing the thick bracelet locked around my arm. "Please."
He rubs the back of his neck apprehensively. He takes a tentative step closer with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry for creating this device, moya tsaritsa. I thought it was going to be used for. . . well, a prisoner. But it was direct orders from the King. And you know very well what happens to those who defy the Shadow King."
I glance down at the sealed shackle on my wrist. "I do."
"Even if I wanted to defy him and take it off, I can't. I made it so that only the King's shadows can break the latch mechanism within the bracelet. There is nothing I can do."
I let the words sink in for the first time. My fate rests entirely in the Darkling's hands. The only person with the power to free me is the same man who thinks he is never amiss.
