Of Crows and Eagles // Grishaverse

Explanations

Zoya

Zoya was used to the impossible–she could practically hear Nikolai scolding her, improbable. She had watched a man burn to ashes, only for him to return in the body of a monk. She had traveled to an invisible fortress of sand, where Saints had lived in hiding for four hundred years. Her fiance could transform into a demon, and she herself into a dragon, at will.

Needless to say, Zoya should not have been nearly as surprised as she was when Alina Starkov walked into the dining hall of the Little Palace, laughing like old friends with Kaz Brekker's crew.

Zoya turned to Nikolai, who was lounging lazily in the chair beside her, taking in the scene before them. "When did Brekker get here?" she asked, a hint of disgust in her voice. Nikolai had insisted on inviting him, but neither of them had expected him to actually come.

"Not sure I want to know." The gates to the palace had been locked since ten bells the night before, and they hadn't been unlocked since. Considering Nikolai had installed quatrefoil locks per Brekker's own recommendation, Zoya doubted even he could have found a way in.

"Good morning, Your Highnesses," Brekker addressed them mockingly. Every face in the room turned to him, wrought with confusion. Even his own crew looked shocked by the lack of respect in his tone. Nina simply looked like she was waiting for the right moment to punch him across the face.

"Brekker," Zoya and Nikolai said simultaneously, his voice welcoming, hers dripping with resentment. The other members of their inner circle–Genya, Tamar, Tolya, and Mal–were shooting bewildered glances between each other. Genya and Tamar had both met with Brekker's crew before, but it had been years ago, and Zoya wondered if they even recognized them at all. The circumstances were quite different now.

"What in the Saints is going on?" Mal muttered, and everyone within hearing range murmured in assent. Zoya planted her hands on the table and rose to her feet.

"War room. Now," she ordered firmly, "It seems we all have some explaining to do."

Mal

It had been years since Mal had been in the war room at the Little Palace, but he could swear it had never been this crowded before. He, Genya, and the twins had left the dining hall behind Nikolai and Zoya, and they, in turn, were followed by Alina, Mila Jandersdat of Fjerda, and a ragtag group of four people that the Ravkan monarchy had...some association with.

Mal shouldered his way through the crowd until he reached Alina. She was no longer wearing her scarf, and her white hair shone like a beacon in the cramped space. "Do you have any idea what the hell is happening?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Alina turned around. "I accidentally told some Kerch criminals I'm a living saint."

Mal's eyes widened. "How'd you screw up that bad?"

"It's complicated," Alina replied with a smirk. "Also, the queen of Fjerda was originally a Ravkan spy."

Mal eyed her with feigned wariness. "How much did you have to drink last night?"

"Not as much as you'd think."

Just then, there was a loud clap, followed by a crackling in the air, and Mal felt his ears pop as the air pressure dropped. Looking around, he saw Zoya standing at the head of the table, palms raised.

Everyone grew quiet, and slowly, Zoya lowered her hands, returning the air pressure to normal. For a moment, all was silent. All Mal could hear was the steady breathing of the people surrounding him.

"Alright, then," Nikolai said finally. "Almost everyone in this room has something worth sharing. Who wants to go first?"