Nikolai could tell her otherwise, but it would be a lie. And why should he lie to Zoya? Zoya, who is privy to the worst of him, the monster scratching beneath his skin?
"Were lullabies on offer the entire time?" is a momentary stall, just a brief reprieve before he does turn again, easing down to the mattress.
They can't put this off. He has to sleep. And Zoya has to do whatever it is she does at night, whatever secret business she keeps to herself. Drawing out their little ritual benefits neither of them, and yet—
— and yet it's not unkindly when Zoya says, "I'm sure Tolya would be happy to recite some verses for you."
Nor when she steps closer to him, enclosing the shackles around each of his bare ankles, making sure the locks are secure. She works with a minimum of fuss, all efficiency, and doesn't linger with her touch.
As she does, she goes on, "I'll come to wake you early. Jellen Radmakker wants to discuss loan terms with you over breakfast." She wrinkles her nose, manages to make it look haughty. "Because it's never too early in the morning for the Kerch to talk about money. It's uncouth."
One shackled ankle jangles, jittery movement perhaps easily mistaken for impatience. The metal is cold, and it's heavy. It's uncomfortable. But it's better than waking naked in a field, with something else's blood in his mouth.
"What about our breakfast plans?" he questions, none of the discomfort of apprehension reaching his voice. Mock-plaintive, eyes wide as Zoya latches the second manacle closed. "I'd far rather be scolded over my coffee by you than flatter Jellen Radmakker."
And he would have to flatter Jellen Radmakker, enough so that Ravka wasn't bled dry before the country had a chance to recover. This too is not something Nikolai can delay.
"Will you join us?" is the better question, more serious than the flippant complaints Nikolai had led with.
She doesn't look up until she's done with the second shackle, fingers lingering on the cool metal, a slight brush against his skin.
"Do you want me to?" A stupid question, of course. He wouldn't ask otherwise. Then, "Your general sitting by your side may send the wrong message."
And it would, of course, send a message. They don't know Radmakker's stance on Grisha, but there's no denying the role Zoya occupies in Ravka's military. They may look like they're attempting a misguided show of force, a poor nation baring its claws at its creditor. But on the other hand, Zoya is a beautiful woman; and Radmakker wouldn't be the first powerful man to let his guard slip in her presence. Any small inroad is all the opportunity Nikolai needs to wheedle clemency out of Kerch.
Zoya is not charming, unless she wants to be. She is not much of a negotiator either, if Nikolai is honest. But she is (a comfort) shrewd and clever, and perhaps Radmakker should bear a reminder back to his fellows that Ravka is poor but not weak.
And beyond that, there is some sense in keeping Radmakker outnumbered. Who wouldn't be nudged off balance, just a little, by Zoya?
Her fingers feel warmer than they should in contrast to the shackle.
"You don't think it would be nice to remind him that we're not so helpless?" Nikolai returns, with an easy levity in spite of the topic, the debt, the maneuvering he's going to have to do. "So long as you don't scare him out of the room, I think it might be beneficial for our discussion."
She arches an eyebrow rather than say no promises aloud. Merchant Council though he may be, she doubts Radmakker has seen anything of real war or danger — or power — while spending his days cosseted in Ketterdam. Maybe he is due a little intimidation, a little taste of Ravka's might.
Besides, she's capable of restraining herself. She just chooses not to, much of the time.
"I'll be there," she says, "so long as I get as much of the good tea for my trouble as I want."
"I always keep the good tea aside for you," Nikolai promises, expression very earnest. He'd folded his hands over his belly out of habit, for lack of anything better to do, but the lull in conversation prompts him to unlace his fingers, reach up towards the looping iron of the headboard.
Why make Zoya prompt him a second time? They both know what must be done.
To fill the silence, he prompts: "Is it too late for the lullaby?"
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no subject
Nikolai could tell her otherwise, but it would be a lie. And why should he lie to Zoya? Zoya, who is privy to the worst of him, the monster scratching beneath his skin?
"Were lullabies on offer the entire time?" is a momentary stall, just a brief reprieve before he does turn again, easing down to the mattress.
They can't put this off. He has to sleep. And Zoya has to do whatever it is she does at night, whatever secret business she keeps to herself. Drawing out their little ritual benefits neither of them, and yet—
no subject
Nor when she steps closer to him, enclosing the shackles around each of his bare ankles, making sure the locks are secure. She works with a minimum of fuss, all efficiency, and doesn't linger with her touch.
As she does, she goes on, "I'll come to wake you early. Jellen Radmakker wants to discuss loan terms with you over breakfast." She wrinkles her nose, manages to make it look haughty. "Because it's never too early in the morning for the Kerch to talk about money. It's uncouth."
no subject
"What about our breakfast plans?" he questions, none of the discomfort of apprehension reaching his voice. Mock-plaintive, eyes wide as Zoya latches the second manacle closed. "I'd far rather be scolded over my coffee by you than flatter Jellen Radmakker."
And he would have to flatter Jellen Radmakker, enough so that Ravka wasn't bled dry before the country had a chance to recover. This too is not something Nikolai can delay.
"Will you join us?" is the better question, more serious than the flippant complaints Nikolai had led with.
no subject
"Do you want me to?" A stupid question, of course. He wouldn't ask otherwise. Then, "Your general sitting by your side may send the wrong message."
And it would, of course, send a message. They don't know Radmakker's stance on Grisha, but there's no denying the role Zoya occupies in Ravka's military. They may look like they're attempting a misguided show of force, a poor nation baring its claws at its creditor. But on the other hand, Zoya is a beautiful woman; and Radmakker wouldn't be the first powerful man to let his guard slip in her presence. Any small inroad is all the opportunity Nikolai needs to wheedle clemency out of Kerch.
no subject
And beyond that, there is some sense in keeping Radmakker outnumbered. Who wouldn't be nudged off balance, just a little, by Zoya?
Her fingers feel warmer than they should in contrast to the shackle.
"You don't think it would be nice to remind him that we're not so helpless?" Nikolai returns, with an easy levity in spite of the topic, the debt, the maneuvering he's going to have to do. "So long as you don't scare him out of the room, I think it might be beneficial for our discussion."
no subject
Besides, she's capable of restraining herself. She just chooses not to, much of the time.
"I'll be there," she says, "so long as I get as much of the good tea for my trouble as I want."
no subject
Why make Zoya prompt him a second time? They both know what must be done.
To fill the silence, he prompts: "Is it too late for the lullaby?"
no subject
"I don't know any."