Pale blue carpet painted a path to the base of an imposing triad of stained glass windows. Depicting the martyred Saints of Ravka, their watered colors splashed patterns across marble sculptures and the thick brocades of the couriers. Sankta Lizabeta of the Roses, a swarm of descending bees illuminated in the foreground. Sankt Feliks Among the Boughs with the branch of the very apples he'd brought to harvest skewered through his chest. Sankta Anastasia occupied the center panel, arms outstretched toward the throne room. Glowing ruby blood poured from her veins to heal the plague that ravaged her lands.

Olenna could paint the colors from memory alone. She'd taken solace beneath their watchful eyes while the nobles and Royals enacted their selfish machinations around her. As she stepped into the light, Courtiers and Advisors pivoted. Necks craned to catch sight of the newcomers. Fabrics hissed as skirts brushed against the floor.

They almost looked as if they hadn't been ready and in position for the better part of an hour. A familiar floral perfume tickled the back of her throat.

A sweeping hum of murmurs floated through the crowd like pollen on a spring breeze. Though rather than flowers, whisperers grew rumors. Olenna had already heard several wild tales in the halls of the Grand Palace. She knew too little of her brother's situation to confirm or deny their validity.

The King and Queen sat atop golden thrones surrounded by voluminous bouquets of gaudy white peonies. The Apparat was glaringly absent from his designated position over the King's shoulder. He and his followers were exiled from the city for their part in The Darkling's coup. The punishment might've been far worse had The Apparat not fled before it was revealed.

A young footman scurried forward and stood at attention. His voice echoed off the marble pillars and arching ceiling. "Tsesarevich Vasily Lantsov, Grand Duke Nikolai Lantsov, and Grand Duchess Olenna Lantsov." The royal trio stepped forward as a united front. Nikolai Lantsov, the returning darling Prince between his beloved siblings. Olenna sensed Alina and her company following behind, but she couldn't dare a glance behind her to check. She lifted her head high, chest rising and falling within the corseted bodice. She felt the courtier's envious eyes on her like the slither of a serpent along her skin. Any glimmer of weakness would be an opportunity to strike.

The closer they grew to the King and Queen, the clearer their misfortunes became. It was a sight that Olenna was familiar with by now. She'd been there to watch as Genya Safin's tailoring wasted away with every passing day and with it, The Queen's ineffable beauty. Tatiana Lantsov's pallid skin sagged and wrinkled. Blonde hair woven from pure gold was shadowed at the roots as its natural ashen tone returned. Vibrant sapphire eyes dulled the muddy blue of a creekbed. If Nikolai was surprised, he hid it well.

Tatiana's flaws were nothing compared to The King. He watched their approach through sallow eyes and hollowed cheeks devoid of the warm glow of life. He slouched in his seat as if the effort of holding himself up was too great to bear. A gnarled liverspotted hand gripped the head of a bejeweled eagle head cane. The Lantsov crest. A symbol of nobility and greatness wasted on The King.

There was only so much the mortal doctors could do to heal him. The Grisha scattered after the Darkling's betrayal, the most important of which was Genya. The Tailor had attempted regicide by engineered poison, and matter how hard or fast they worked to counteract the effects, the poison worked faster. It was like nothing their healers had ever seen. The most they could do was slow its progression.

Olenna couldn't bring herself to be grateful that her father survived. She couldn't even muster a drop of malice towards Genya. There were so many things that made that impossible. Olenna schooled her features into regal indifference as she and her brothers reached the foot of the dais steps. Her parents looked down on them like crows preparing to pick apart a carcass. If there was a flaw in her presentation, Olenna's mother would make her aware of it. Nikolai was the first to fold his body into a practiced bow. Olenna's skirts rustled against the carpet as she lowered into an impeccable curtsey.

"Moi Tsar. Moi Tsaritsa." Nikolai addressed them as formally as possible, meeting each of their eyes in turn. For a moment, neither party spoke. The Monarchs and their children stood apart like opposing chess pieces. Then, with a flurry of ruffles and lace, The Queen flung herself down the steps and wrapped her arms around her youngest son.

"Nikolai!" Tatiana was beaming, something Olenna hadn't seen since before Nikolai joined the First Army. He was her pride and joy, the boy that could do no wrong. The King reached out a trembling hand, and a footman hurried to his side. The Queen pulled back and gazed upon her son with such warmth that Olenna felt the familiar chafe of heat in her chest. She was never on the receiving end of that look. It was never for her, only for Nikolai.

The King took a step forward with the help of his footman, each movement slow and deliberate. His body trembled ever so slightly. "Come, Nikolai." The King held out his other arm. "Come." Nikolai ascended the stairs and wrapped his father's arm around his own. The Queen followed suit, and with his parents on either arm, Nikolai led them toward the double doors at the left side of the dais. The ones leading to the King's private study.

Vasily stiffened beside Olenna. The corners of his lips were tight. Anyone else might not have noticed, but Olenna knew when her eldest brother was jealous. She recognized that gleam of envy in his eye. The simmering rage was just below the surface of his skin. All masked behind a marbled expression. Vasilly lifted an arm, and Olenna delicately wove hers through it. Together they ascended the steps and trailed after the rest of their family into the study. The royal family reunion came first. Then, the business of the Sun Summoner.

The moment the doors thumped shut behind them, Vasily dropped her arm like a hot stone. The cool air that rushed to replace his warmth was like a salve on a festering burn. They stepped apart, Vasily gravitating towards the fully stocked bar and the decanter of kvass. Olenna sank into the cream-colored settee, her skirts billowing around her to claim over half of the seat. The Queen was too excited to sit and instead hovered around Nikolai with the giddiness of a child on her birthday. Olenna's fingers trailed soothingly across the upholstery like the keys of a pianoforte.

"What is the meaning of this, boy?" The King's brows cut a hard line across his forehead.

"Yes, I do believe you owe us an explanation, Darling." Queen Tatiana Lantsov tutted her tongue as if she were speaking to a toddler, not a fully grown man. She had an infuriating tendency to talk down to her children. Olenna fought the urge to roll her eyes. Nikolai was a much better actor and soothed their mother with his signature swoon-inducing grin as he helped the King toward the stuffed armchair.

"Your letter only explained that The Sun Summoner would be joining you in Os Alta. How on earth did you come across each other?" Olenna asked, slipping her aching toes from their shoes beneath the curtain of her skirts. She almost regretted waiting so long for Nikolai on the uneven cobblestones.

"She is an enemy of the King." Vasily scowled into his crystal glass. The Crown Prince's mood would only sour with every sip he took. Despite exchanging no more than six words with Alina, his disapproval was set in stone. It was enough that their father believed her a treasonous heretic. Vasily would likely fall dead if he ever had an original thought.

"As I said in my letter, Alina is innocent of all crimes." Nikolai lowered his father into the overstuffed armchair by the arching hollow of an unlit fireplace. The Lantsov coat of arms hung atop it, framed by two sets of crossed ancestral swords. They were polished and sharpened to perfection despite not being wielded for over a century. Nikolai looked around at his family with a determined gleam in his hazel eyes. "She's here to help us rebuild and aid in our war with The Darkling."

"How, exactly, do you know this?" The King leveled Nikolai with a patronizing look. His face, pale as the palace linens, now sported horrible red blotches from neck to cheeks. "I will not forgive her sins based on your word alone." His voice rose, accompanied by the clench of a shriveled hand around his eagle-head cane. If The King was able-bodied, he might've been threatening. But this pathetic excuse for a man sat hunched and deflated in his seat without enough strength to stand alone. Olenna couldn't help the honeyed satisfaction running through her at the sight. It was finally his turn to suffer.

"Just because she batted her lashes at you doesn't make her innocent." Vasily scoffed and propped his elbow on the fireplace mantle. His lips curled into a sneer. "I know you have a soft spot for mutts, but this is politics, brother." Olenna's lips tightened, and she tilted her chin up.

"At least he doesn't need to pay for his company." She cut her older brother with a sickly sweet smile. He didn't so much as scowl at the suggestion. They all knew it was true. Vasily didn't exactly try to hide his late-night visitors. Men and women left the Crown Prince's room with wrinkled clothes and pockets lined with silver. None would bed such an insufferable man without a financial incentive. Vasily downed the last bit of kvas from his glass and turned to pour himself another.

"Fitting you'd come to his defense, little sister, given your dearest friend is the one who tried to murder our Father." Olenna's face twisted as hot air burned its way through her chest. She opened her mouth to spit back, but a sharp, authoritative voice rang out.

"Enough, all of you." Queen Tatiana's rouged lips pressed into a thin line. She met the eyes of each of her children. Any thought of retaliation was squashed at the familiar warning. Olenna's tongue festered with the sting of insults aimed and ready to fire at Vasily. She forced them down again with a hard swallow. Her mother sighed, shoulders slumping in an unqueenly manner. "Can we have at least a day of peace before you're at each other's throats?" Olenna's jaw clenched as she watched her mother. Tatiana was a skeleton of the woman she was before the coup. The pedestal of vanity and self-importance had crumpled. Now, The Queen teetered atop one last stone with a gentle breeze between her and complete ruin. It was nothing she didn't deserve. Olenna knew this. Yet, there was a single heartstring that still tugged at the sight.

"Yes, Mother." The three answered in a begrudging chorus. Tatiana's lips twisted with a satisfied smile.

"Wonderful. Now, I wish to hear what my son has to say for himself." Tatiana coaxed Nikolai with the raise of her brows. Clasping his hands behind his back, Nikolai obliged her. He was nervous. He'd always been good at hiding his true feelings beneath a clever quip and a devilish grin, but Olenna was the one person in the world who knew him well enough to see through it. His fingers twitched against his pant leg, likely itching to fiddle with one machine or another. Nikolai didn't look at his sister as he spoke.

"I may have stretched the truth when I told you I was studying in Ketterdam." Nikolai didn't look at his sister as he spoke. His hazel eyes fixed on the coat of arms above the empty hearth. Olenna frowned, her brows dipped low. Questions warred in her mind, clawing to be answered. She bit her tongue and let her brother tell his tale.

The truth took Nikolai far beyond his supposed university studies. Olenna heard the name Sturmhond a few times over the years. The fearsome privateer captaining a ship of both Grisha and Otkazatzia. He'd caused more than a few problems for the Shu and Fierdan slave trade and Kerch merchant ships. What Olenna hadn't realized, was that Sturmhond and Prince Nikolai Lantsov were one and the same. A bit of Grisha Tailoring and his face became unrecognizable. A Kerch farmer's boy had been more than willing to accept a free university education under the Prince's name and likeness.

The King's outcry sputtered into a fit of retching coughs. Queen Tatiana rushed to his side as he folded at the middle, brandishing a lace-lined kerchief. She cooed over her husband like the mother of an injured child. Olenna wished The King to keel over dead at that very moment. Had she been a Heartrender, she wasn't sure what she'd do if given the chance. It wasn't the angriest she'd ever seen her father, but it had to be a close second. The King's fit quieted, and his senses returned to him. Tatiana sat beside her daughter, skin suddenly pallid and damp. Nikolai waited with the patience of a Saint, his gaze slightly lowered. Olenna pleaded for him to look at her, to speak to her, the one who'd been his closest friend and confidant. She was the one who deserved an explanation. Olenna sat still and silent.

"It's almost as if you have a death wish." Vasily chuckled sardonically into his glass. "You join the first army as a soldier, then leave a full education for the life of a dogged pirate! Mother, are you certain he wasn't dropped on the head as a child? I think there's something loose in his skull." Olenna might've snapped back if it weren't for the rush of blood in her ears. Vasily made it no secret that he enjoyed his brother's misfortune.

"Privateer." Nikolai corrected, fist clenched at his side. It was the only visible sign of frustration. He likely wasn't even aware he was doing it.

"You run off for years, and now you return with the Sun Summoner and a gaggle of mercenaries and privateers demanding that I make the Darkling's pet general of the second army?" The King gave an indignant huff. His nose curled as if smelling something particularly foul. Nikolai sucked in a slow breath and somehow maintained a level tone.

"Alina saved my life. Twice. She is the only Grisha powerful enough to fight The Darkling. I trust her completely."

Vasily tipped his chin up and scoffed. "You should be more than capable of saving your own life."

"And yet I wouldn't be here without her." There was a bite to Nikolai's words now. Vasily rolled his eyes, leaning a hip against the table. He'd always been guilty of underestimating his opponents. Nikolai was known for his cunning, wielding words like honey to sweeten and soothe even the roughest of negotiations. Some forgot just how deadly the fox could be when provoked. Nikolai turned his sharp eyes on the King. "Alina was a prisoner of The Darkling when I found her. She dared to stand against him before anyone else. She learned of his treachery and fought against him to protect Ravka and our people. Something you didn't discover until you were already half dead."

"Nikolai-" Tatiana protested, but The King held up a shaking hand. She quieted like the sea to a Tidemaker. He stared into his son's eyes with an expression carved from marble.

"So, you want me to clear her name? Fine. Done. Send her back to whatever backwater village she came from and be done with it." He waved a dismissive hand, curling his lip over the last words. Nikolai tilted his chin the slightest bit higher. His jaw was sharper, his face having lost the roundness of youth in his time away.

"I can't do that." Nikolai stared straight into the King's stony gaze. "Alina came here to protect Ravka. She can't do that unless she's here. There is no scenario in which we win a war against the Darkling and his Grisha unless we have the Sun Summoner."

The King shifted in his seat and scowled."The first army is more than capable of protecting Os Alta."

Nikolai barely let him finish the sentence before snapping back. "And the rest of Ravka? We've been fighting a war on two fronts for centuries. We can't continue to protect our borders and defend against The Darkling alone. Can our armies fight a legion of Heartrenders? Can they withstand a storm of fire, wind, and water? We need Grisha's power to survive it. You can try to deny it. We both know it's true. Without Alina Starkov, we have no hope of stopping The Darkling. The Grisha won't follow you. They will only return to Os Alta if Alina is the one to lead them." The room was utterly silent. The rhythmic tick of a grandfather clock counted the seconds of thick tension between the king and his youngest son. Olenna held her breath, eyes flicking between them. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, threatening to burst through.

Then her father narrowed his eyes and sighed."Fine."

"She will be the general of the second army. But if I get wind of even the thought of betrayal, I'll send that ragged refugee back to Shu Han and let them pick her apart piece by piece to see how she ticks."

"Are we in agreement?"

"Thank you, Father."

"As for that tracker." The King spat the word like a curse. Olenna's jaw worked. "He deserted his regiment."

"He deserted his regiment to protect the Sun Summoner." She corrected.

"The punishment for desertion is death by firing squad. Would you have us dub him a Duke instead?"

Olenna folded her hands primly in the lap of her skirts and tilted her head to regard her eldest brother. "An Otkazatsia chose to protect his country the best way he could-- by keeping Moretsova's Stag out of The Darkling's hands. It is far more than you can claim to have done in your years as a General." She made it indubitable that she knew his title was as false as his concern for The King's health. The medals on his lapel were nothing more than shiny trinkets. Vasily was a child playing soldier while good men laid down their lives for a war they didn't want -- men like Dominic.

"Quiet, girl." The King snapped. Olenna's lips became terse as she fixated on the glittering medal of honor upon Vasily's breast. She wished she could melt it off him with her gaze alone. "These matters don't concern you." Olenna bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted the salty tang of blood on her tongue. Nikolai opened his mouth and took a step toward his father. Olenna thought he might speak in her defense.

"He deserted, yes, but he served his country honorably by doing so." Her hopes were squandered. Their father didn't reprimand him for the words. Despite the statement only serving as an echo of what Olenna had only just declared. Nikolai's tone was strategically pleading. It was just enough to stroke his father's ego.

The King sat a bit straighter, his sinewy shoulders set back with the bravado of a mating bird. Nikolai went in for the kill. "Let him remain in Os Alta. I wish to assemble a guard for Alina's protection, and he would do well in the position. The people's opinion can only improve with the decision to spare him. If we prosecute those who defy the Darkling, we burn our allies and bring water to our enemies." Nikolai's words hung like a haze of smoke in the air, and no one moved to dissipate it with another point. The King scanned his youngest son and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.

"Perhaps you did learn something on that ship of yours." Their father grunted. "The tracker will be spared, but he will be discharged from the First Army immediately. I will not tolerate insubordination in our ranks. I care not what you do with him after that. If he abandons his post again, it will be the Sun Summoner who suffers."

"Thank you, Father." Nikolai dipped into a bow. "You will not regret the decision."

"If this goes wrong, it won't be I who regrets it."