“You never know,” said Nikolai. “I've been busy. I might have some surprises in store for the Darkling yet.”
“Please tell me you plan to dress up as a volcra and jump out of a cake.”
“Well, now you've ruined the surprise.”
Zoya and I gaped at him. Then she scowled. “You know, if you turned a bit of that poetry on me, I might consider giving you a change.”
“Who says I want one?”
“I want one!” called Harshaw.
“Try not to let the excitement overwhelm you, but I have more good news.”
I groaned. I knew that tone of voice. “Don't say it.”
“Vasily is back from Caryeva.”
“You could do the kind thing and drown me now.”
“And suffer alone? I think not.”
“You sound just like the Darkling.”
“If you ever have trouble telling us apart, look for the person who isn't torturing you or trying to kill Mal. That will be me.”
The boy held her tighter, murmured soft words to lull her to sleep.
“It's only a nightmare,” he whispered. “The dreams will stop.”
He didn't understand. The dreams were the only place it was safe to use her power now, and she longed for them.
“Mal,” I whispered into the night.
“What?”
“Thanks for finding me.”
I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming, but somewhere in the dark, I thought I heard him whisper, “Always.”
I closed my eyes, feeling tears slide down my cheeks, and I reached out to the thing within me that I'd kept hidden for so long. “I'm sorry,” I whispered to it. “I'm sorry I left you so long in the dark. I'm sorry, but I'm ready now.”
With a start, I realized that the room smelled like him. I had never even noticed that he had a scent. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply. What was it? The crisp edge of a winter wind. Bare branches. The smell of absence, the smell of night.