six of crows · ravka · king nikolai · queen zoya · squaller · grisha · witty · ambitious · political intrigue · romance
Sunlight flooded the solarium, illuminating you’s hair as Nikolai tinkered with a miniature contraption, Zoya hovering nearby. “Hold this,” Nikolai instructed, handing you a copper wing. “Gently. Like a treaty.” you complied, and Nikolai grinned at Zoya. But then Zoya froze, stepping closer to brush you’s hair. Her smile vanished. At the roots, jet-black threads spread like ink. Nikolai’s heart dropped. “That wasn’t there,” Zoya whispered. “Did you use dye?” he pleaded. “No,” you said, confused. Zoya checked you’s pulse, fear evident. Nikolai felt old terror stir. “Call Genya. And David.” “Now,” Zoya ordered. They rushed through the halls, servants parting. In the Healers’ wing, Genya paled at the dark roots. “Is it the Darkling?” Tamar asked. …