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His first night after the demon, he doesn’t get much sleep.
There’s too much to do. Despite his Healers begging him to rest himself longer, not stay on his feet for too long, not twist that way and crack his ribs further, Nikolai keeps going. He’s a king now, and the wreckage that is Ravka won’t rebuild itself.
His second night, he doesn’t sleep at all. Nikolai lies awake, hurting, between unfamiliar sheets.
They’re back at the palace now. It’s him and his new Grisha Triumvirate holed up in the rooms that used to belong to the Darkling, trying to hold a nation together with little more than thread. There’s Genya Safin, a force to be reckoned with despite what his father did to her. Something clutches at Nikolai’s gut when he catches her eye, something a lot like guilt and simultaneously a shared rage.
There’s David Kostyk, possibly the best mind he’s ever had the pleasure - or sometimes, albeit, the inconvenience - of gelling with. And then there’s his new general, Zoya Nazyalensky. Rumour has it she had been close to him. Not that Nikolai cares; her past is her past and she’d more than proved herself a valuable ally. She’d saved his life, after all, slowing his plummet to the ground as the shadow left his body. Without her it would have been much more than some broken ribs to contend with.
She’s watching him, he realises throughout the day. Her eyes follow him as he paces, as he argues, as he instructs. And whenever he sees her, he becomes very aware of the hand resting at his ribs.
It hurt like hell. It’s only gotten worse since the fall. But there isn’t time to deal with it because Ravka is in pieces. He must repair the worst of the damage before he can see to that wreaked on his own body.
It’s the middle of the afternoon when Zoya catches him in the hallway. He’d left them to see to a riot brewing outside the palace gates and on his way back she corners him. Well, corners might not be the correct word, she merely approaches him purposefully, but Nikolai would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit her intimidating presence.
“Successfully avoided another disaster, Your Highness?”
“Something like that. What brings you so far from the war rooms? I haven’t seen you anywhere else since we arrived,” Nikolai says, placidly ignoring the way his head feels like cotton.
“You did. I knew you wouldn’t say it in front of us all, but you’re hurt, Your Highness. Your injuries from the war are clearly still bothering you.”
“Clearly?” He sighs, irritated that he wasn’t hiding it as well as he’d believed. “Okay Nazyalensky. My broken ribs haven’t taken to healing as quickly as expected. But it’s nothing for anyone to worry about, a bit of an ache has never slowed me down before.”
“That’s the problem then, isn’t it?” Zoya says, arching an eyebrow. “You never slow down long enough to build your strength again.”
“I think you’ll find my strength reserves plentiful, thank you very much. I understand you’ve only been exposed to David’s extraordinary physicality but I assure you, I’m not lacking in the area.” A smile touches her lips and Nikolai feels at ease. It’s less difficult pretending everything’s splendid when there’s someone to bounce off, someone he can talk to without every word relating to dire events.
“I’m sure they are. But a dead king will do us no good. I understand you’re used to adventure but your life isn’t something that can be gambled anymore. There’s more at stake now.” Nikolai isn’t exactly sure why her face falls a little as she talks, but he doesn’t like it.
“I won’t be brash, Zoya. Contrary to what you might have been led to believe, I’ve the capacity to be remarkably cautious.”
“I’d like to see that.” The smile’s back. They exchange a small nod and walk down to the war room together.
***
Nikolai is starting to believe Zoya was right to be concerned.
The room is swaying. He’s gripping the edge of the centre table hard, the pressure is making his knuckles ache. The grimace he’s wearing is undoubtedly giving him away, but Nikolai is determined to continue listening to David’s analysis of the arms at Ravka’s disposal should either of their neighbours decide to take advantage of their weakness.
“They’re not ideal for long distance but… Your Highness, are you alright?”
“Splendid David, do carry on.” The response has left him before he has time to consider. David doesn’t continue, his face growing increasingly confused as he takes in Nikolai’s stance.
“Your Highness-”
“Excuse me.” He’s walking - stumbling - out before any of them can say anything. Dragging his hand across the wall he makes it to his own room and throws open the door, moving to lean heavily on the bedframe and catch his breath. Nikolai doesn’t hear Zoya arrive at the open door, but he knows she’s there.
“I’m fine.”
When he forces himself to look at her, he sees none of the irritation he expected. He also sees none of the pity he feared. Zoya’s lips are pressed tightly, and her arms are folded as she stands against the doorframe. Her silence broadcasts the lack of truth in his statement.
Nikolai looks at her through hazy vision, not caring that he’s clutching his chest and his legs are shaking, and he thinks she’s beautiful.
Said legs give way, and she’s with him in a second, holding him up with strength impressive for someone of her stature.
“Just let go, Your Highness. You need to fall if you’re going to get back up and go again.” Nikolai hates how right she is.
“Just- just let me-”
“Nikolai.”
That gets his attention. “Zoya.”
She seems to realise her lack of decorum, contemplate going back on herself, but instead she hoists him up onto the bed. “Slow down, Nikolai. Just breathe for once in your life.”
He shakes his head, then immediately regrets it. His vision is swimming. “There isn’t time-”
“Ravka will wait for you. We will wait for you.” Zoya tentatively pulls back his overcoat and unbuttons his shirt, moving all the fabric away from the deep bruising just under his heart. “A king who’s bleeding internally isn’t what we need right now. We need a king who’s well enough to deal with this mess without killing himself.”
Again, she pauses, as if considering her place. Again, she overrides said instinct and smoothes his hair back out of his face. “We need you, Nikolai. But you may need us also, and that is something you need to accept for this arrangement to work.”
She sounds further away than she is. When she moves her hand away from his face, Nikolai catches hold of it in his own. “I’ll work on it.”
Zoya smiles. “Good. Now stop fighting and let yourself sleep. I’ll send up our Healers to see to your injuries.”
She makes to get up but Nikolai doesn’t let go.
“Will you come back?”
“Do you want me to, Your Highness?”
Nikolai is fading out, but he hopes she understands when he uses the last of his energy to squeeze her hand.
***
When Nikolai wakes, Zoya is there.