Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo (z-lib.org).mobi
kings. Or Darklings. I doubted they’d just send me back to the regiment with apat on the back. I wondered if Mal was still in Kribirsk. If his wounds hadhealed, he might already have been sent back across the Fold or on to some otherassignment. I thought of his face disappearing into the crowd in the Grisha tent. Ihadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.In the gathering dusk, I stretched my arms and back and tried to shake thefeeling of gloom that had settled over me. It’s probably for the best, I toldmyself. How would I have said goodbye to Mal anyway? Thanks for being mybest friend and making my life bearable. Oh, and sorry I fell in love with you fora while there. Make sure to write!“What are you smiling at?”I whirled, peering into the gloom. The Darkling’s voice seemed to float out ofthe shadows. He walked down to the stream, crouching on the bank to splashwater on his face and through his dark hair.“Well?” he asked, looking up at me.“Myself,” I admitted.“Are you that funny?”“I’m hilarious.”The Darkling regarded me in what remained of the twilight. I had thedisquieting sensation that I was being studied. Other than a bit of dust on hiskefta, our trek seemed to have had little effect on him. My skin prickled withembarrassment as I became keenly aware of my torn, too-large kefta, my dirtyhair, and the bruise the Fjerdan assassin had left on my cheek. Was he looking atme and regretting his decision to drag me all this way? Was he thinking that he’dmade another of his infrequent mistakes?“I’m not Grisha,” I blurted.“The evidence suggests otherwise,” he said. “What makes you so certain?”“Look at me!”“I’m looking.”“Do I look like a Grisha to you?” Grisha were beautiful. They didn’t havespotty skin and dull brown hair and scrawny arms.He shook his head and rose. “You don’t understand at all,” he said, and beganwalking back up the hill.“Are you going to explain it to me?”“Not right now, no.”I was so furious I wanted to smack him on the back of his head. And if Ihadn’t seen him cut a man in half, I might have done just that. I settled forglaring at the space between his shoulder blades as I followed him up the hill.Inside the farm’s broken-down barn, the Darkling’s men had cleared a space
on the earthen floor and built a fire. One of them had caught and killed a grouseand was roasting it over the flames. It made a poor meal shared among all of us,but the Darkling did not want to send his men ranging into the woods for game.I took a place by the fire and ate my small portion in silence. When I’dfinished, I hesitated for only a moment before wiping my fingers on my alreadyfilthy kefta. It was probably the nicest thing I’d ever worn or would wear, andsomething about seeing the fabric stained and torn made me feel particularlylow.In the light from the fire, I watched the oprichniki sitting side by side with theGrisha. Some of them had already drifted away from the fire to bed down for thenight. Others had been posted to the first watch. The rest sat talking as theflames ebbed, passing a flask back and forth. The Darkling sat with them. I’dnoticed that he had taken no more than his share of the grouse. And now he satbeside his soldiers on the cold ground, a man second in power only to the King.He must have felt my gaze, because he turned to look at me, his granite eyesglimmering in the firelight. I flushed. To my dismay, he rose and came to sitbeside me, offering me the flask. I hesitated and then took a sip, grimacing at thetaste. I’d never liked kvas, but the teachers at Keramzin had drunk it like water.Mal and I had stolen a bottle once. The beating we’d taken when we were caughthad been nothing compared to how miserably sick we’d been.Still, it burned going down, and the warmth was welcome. I took another sipand handed the flask back to him. “Thank you,” I said with a little cough.He drank, staring into the fire, and then said, “All right. Ask me.”I blinked at him, taken aback. I wasn’t sure where to begin. My tired mind hadbeen brimming with questions, whirring in a state between panic and exhaustionand disbelief since we’d left Kribirsk. I wasn’t sure that I had the energy to forma thought, and when I opened my mouth, the question that came out surprisedme.“How old are you?”He looked at me, bemused. “I don’t know exactly.”“How can you not know?”The Darkling shrugged. “How old are you exactly?”I flashed him a sour look. I didn’t know the date of my birth. All the orphansat Keramzin were given the Duke’s birthday in honour of our benefactor. “Well,then, roughly how old are you?”“Why do you want to know?”“Because I’ve heard stories about you since I was a child, but you don’t lookmuch older than I am,” I said honestly.“What kind of stories?”
- Page 2 and 3: www.hachettechildrens.co.uk
- Page 4 and 5: PRAISE FORA New York Times Bestsell
- Page 6 and 7: ContentsCoverTitle PagePraise for S
- Page 8: THE GRISHASOLDIERS OF THE SECOND AR
- Page 11 and 12: of lessons in stifling classrooms.
- Page 13 and 14: “Leave us now.”“Wait!” excl
- Page 15 and 16: slash that had severed Ravka from i
- Page 17 and 18: slammed the book shut and run squea
- Page 19 and 20: through the darkness to West Ravka.
- Page 21 and 22: “He was short and pudgy and afrai
- Page 23 and 24: “Sure,” I said. But I didn’t.
- Page 25 and 26: CHAPTER 2The morning passed in a bl
- Page 27 and 28: the other, my heart pounding, my ey
- Page 29 and 30: thud as I fell forward and my head
- Page 31 and 32: were actually guarding me. Like a p
- Page 33 and 34: grand. The Grisha tent was like not
- Page 35 and 36: I frowned. If the Cartographer had
- Page 37 and 38: “So you didn’t see where the li
- Page 39 and 40: touch went that peculiar sense of c
- Page 41 and 42: “So I’m the Darkling’s prison
- Page 43 and 44: felt tears threatening again and bl
- Page 45 and 46: “A what?”Fedyor and Ivan exchan
- Page 47 and 48: He never finished his sentence. A s
- Page 49 and 50: Slowly, I opened my eyes and took i
- Page 51: CHAPTER 5The next few days passed i
- Page 55 and 56: The Darkling sighed. “I doubt tha
- Page 57 and 58: country that had long been at war.T
- Page 59 and 60: CHAPTER 6I dreamed that I was back
- Page 61 and 62: ease in slowly. Military life had l
- Page 63 and 64: feeling the anger and embarrassment
- Page 65 and 66: A tall, broad-chested Grisha in red
- Page 67 and 68: particular affinity and made a gift
- Page 69 and 70: Light flooded the throne room, dren
- Page 71 and 72: subject.“The Apparat?”“Is he
- Page 73 and 74: Grand Palace, all of them dressed i
- Page 75 and 76: CHAPTER 8After a restless night, I
- Page 77 and 78: toothily at me. Marie looped her ar
- Page 79 and 80: a massive set of double doors in fr
- Page 81 and 82: Genya’s voice was light, but it h
- Page 83 and 84: “I can’t go with you. Not that
- Page 85 and 86: CHAPTER 9It was a complete disaster
- Page 87 and 88: the long brown robes or the dirty b
- Page 89 and 90: I nodded.“Homesick?”I shrugged.
- Page 91 and 92: CHAPTER 10Next morning, my body ach
- Page 93 and 94: us, and she still needed a flint to
- Page 95 and 96: knowing that I fitted into my new l
- Page 97 and 98: pushed my plate away. The prospect
- Page 99 and 100: Good, I thought with satisfaction.
- Page 101 and 102: Darkling’s dire words beneath the
kings. Or Darklings. I doubted they’d just send me back to the regiment with a
pat on the back. I wondered if Mal was still in Kribirsk. If his wounds had
healed, he might already have been sent back across the Fold or on to some other
assignment. I thought of his face disappearing into the crowd in the Grisha tent. I
hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.
In the gathering dusk, I stretched my arms and back and tried to shake the
feeling of gloom that had settled over me. It’s probably for the best, I told
myself. How would I have said goodbye to Mal anyway? Thanks for being my
best friend and making my life bearable. Oh, and sorry I fell in love with you for
a while there. Make sure to write!
“What are you smiling at?”
I whirled, peering into the gloom. The Darkling’s voice seemed to float out of
the shadows. He walked down to the stream, crouching on the bank to splash
water on his face and through his dark hair.
“Well?” he asked, looking up at me.
“Myself,” I admitted.
“Are you that funny?”
“I’m hilarious.”
The Darkling regarded me in what remained of the twilight. I had the
disquieting sensation that I was being studied. Other than a bit of dust on his
kefta, our trek seemed to have had little effect on him. My skin prickled with
embarrassment as I became keenly aware of my torn, too-large kefta, my dirty
hair, and the bruise the Fjerdan assassin had left on my cheek. Was he looking at
me and regretting his decision to drag me all this way? Was he thinking that he’d
made another of his infrequent mistakes?
“I’m not Grisha,” I blurted.
“The evidence suggests otherwise,” he said. “What makes you so certain?”
“Look at me!”
“I’m looking.”
“Do I look like a Grisha to you?” Grisha were beautiful. They didn’t have
spotty skin and dull brown hair and scrawny arms.
He shook his head and rose. “You don’t understand at all,” he said, and began
walking back up the hill.
“Are you going to explain it to me?”
“Not right now, no.”
I was so furious I wanted to smack him on the back of his head. And if I
hadn’t seen him cut a man in half, I might have done just that. I settled for
glaring at the space between his shoulder blades as I followed him up the hill.
Inside the farm’s broken-down barn, the Darkling’s men had cleared a space
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