Chapter 23: Nikolai — Summary and Analysis

⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This guide contains detailed spoilers for the entire novel. Proceed only if you've finished reading or are comfortable knowing the plot.

Summary

Nikolai cannot sleep in the Iris Suite. He tries to work on the rocket schematics brought from Lazlayon, but the plans are covered in David Kostyk's cramped handwriting, and every glance pulls him back into grief. He cannot stop picturing David's broken body being pulled from the rubble, the blood and dust on his chest. He had sent word to Tamar to investigate whether the Shu queen knew about the bombing, but he doubts it. Makhi saw Ravka as weak and tried to claim it through subterfuge; Fjerda may now succeed through brute force. Nikolai reflects that while the Fjerdans will celebrate the buildings they crushed, they will never know the true death blow they dealt Ravka: David Kostyk is gone.

From his window, Nikolai spots movement in the gardens below—dark hair and a blue wool cloak. Zoya. She passes beyond the hedges and fountains into the shadow of the woods. He hasn't spoken to her since she returned, and he blames himself for sending her into the field without proper backup. His mind spins through jealous possibilities: a member of the royal guard, a handsome Inferni, even General Pensky with his effusive mustache. He yanks trousers over his nightshirt, grabs his coat and boots, and follows her, ignoring the concerned glances of the palace guards.

Her boots have left tracks in the snow, and he follows them into the dark woods. He catches a flash of movement and sees Zoya standing before a wall on the far side of the water gardens—where he played as a child and where the secret tunnel to Lazlayon is located. She pushes aside a heavy mass of vines to reveal a door in the wall, marked with two stars carved into the wood, just like the stars in the mural in her rooms. She slips a key from her pocket and vanishes inside, leaving the door open behind her.

Nikolai passes through the tangle of vines and into what he realizes is the old vegetable garden, abandoned and absent from the new palace plans. It has been transformed. Willows border the paths like women bent in mourning, their branches shod in ice. Flowers and shrubs of every variety overflow their beds, all white with frost—a world made of snow and glass, a garden of ghosts. Lanterns glow along the old stone walls, and Zoya stands with her back to him, still as an ornamental statue.

"I'm running out of room," she says without turning. She explains that when her aunt was killed and she returned to the Little Palace to fight the Darkling, she needed a place to be alone. She found the door and felt as if her aunt had left it for her to discover. She plants something new for every Grisha lost: heartleaf for Marie, yew for Sergei, red sentinel for Fedyor, even a place for Ivan. Bright orange blossoms for Harshaw. Dahlias for Nina, planted when she thought Nina had been captured and killed. She turns to him with tears on her cheeks, her hands half-pleading, half-lost. This is where she has been sneaking off to all those nights—not to a lover, but to a monument to grief.

Zoya apologizes for losing the Darkling prisoner, but Nikolai brushes it off. She insists he has barely looked at her since she returned. He wants to tell her the truth—that he is greedy for the sight of her, that facing this war without her fills him with fear—but he is a king and she is his general, and he can say none of those things. Instead he tells her she need never ask forgiveness of him. He reveals that he sensed when the Darkling broke free; the demon within him knew somehow, and for a moment he was there in the room with her. Zoya says she wishes he had been there, and when he asks why, she replies that there is no one else she would rather have her back in a fight. Nikolai struggles not to break out in song.

Zoya points to the thorn wood growing around the garden's perimeter. She took the cuttings from the tunnel that leads to the Little Palace. She describes it as all prickles and spines and anger, covered in pretty, useless blossoms and fruit too bitter to eat—nothing in it worth loving. Nikolai disagrees. He sees the way it grows, protecting everything within these walls, stronger than anything else in the garden, weathering every season and blooming again and again. She asks what if the winter is just too long and hard, what if it can't bloom again. He takes her gloved hand, and she folds into him like a flower closing its petals at nightfall. He wraps his arm around her, and she lets herself lean against him. Zoya the deadly. Zoya the ferocious. The weight of her against him feels like a benediction. He whispers that she will be branches without blossoms, and she can let the rest of them be strong until the summer comes. She insists it wasn't a metaphor. He agrees it wasn't.

She wipes her eyes, and he realizes she is crying. She tells him that if anyone had said three years ago she would shed tears over David Kostyk, she would have laughed. Their decision to side with Alina was what bound them—the choice to fight beside her when the odds were in the Darkling's favor. But they won. For a while. She wonders how they did it—maybe it was a miracle, maybe Alina really is a Saint. Nikolai says grief has made her delirious, but if they got lucky with one miracle, maybe they'll get lucky again.

They leave the garden and walk back through the woods. On the path, they part as they always do—she to the Grisha quarters, he to the Grand Palace. He wants to call her back, to follow her through the snow, but his country doesn't need a heartsick boy chasing after a lonely girl. It needs a king. And a king they will have.

Key Events

Nikolai's sleepless night in the Iris Suite, consumed by grief over David Kostyk's death
His political reflection on Makhi's failed subterfuge and the looming Fjerdan invasion
Nikolai spots Zoya walking into the woods and follows her, suspecting a secret meeting
He tracks her through the snow to a hidden door marked with two carved stars
Discovery of the abandoned vegetable garden Zoya has transformed into a memorial for fallen Grisha
Zoya's confession about losing the Darkling prisoner and Nikolai's reassurance
The thorn wood conversation, where Nikolai reframes Zoya's self-image
Shared grief over David and mutual hope for another miracle
Their parting and Nikolai's resolve to be the king his country needs

Character Development

Nikolai shows a rare moment of vulnerability. His grief over David is raw and unguarded, and his jealousy over Zoya's late-night excursions reveals a deeply human insecurity beneath his kingly charm. His decision to follow her—and his internal debate about whether to turn back—shows the tension between his public duty and private desires. By the chapter's end, he has channeled that tension into resolve, choosing the crown over his heart.

Zoya is stripped of her armor here. The memorial garden reveals a private grief she has hidden from everyone, a tenderness that contradicts her ferocious reputation. Her confession about the Darkling's escape shows her carrying guilt she doesn't need to bear. The thorn wood conversation is the emotional core: she sees herself as prickly and unlovable, and Nikolai reframes that as protective strength. Her tears over David—a man she once would have laughed at mourning—show how much she has changed.

Themes, Symbols, or Motifs

Grief and loss dominate the chapter. David's death is the wound at the center of everything, and the memorial garden is its physical manifestation—a place where grief can be tended privately, away from the demands of war and politics.

The memorial garden functions as a symbol of memory and resilience. Each plant represents a life lost, and the garden's transformation from abandoned vegetable plot to sacred space mirrors Zoya's own transformation from soldier to something more.

The thorn wood is the chapter's richest metaphor. Zoya sees it as anger and prickles, nothing worth loving. Nikolai sees it as protective, enduring, blooming again and again. The metaphor extends to Zoya herself—and to Ravka, which must weather the winter of invasion and bloom again.

The two stars carved into the door, echoing the mural in Zoya's rooms, remain unexplained—a symbol of something private between them that Nikolai has never asked about.

Snow and winter imagery pervades the chapter, creating a world of white and frost that is both beautiful and cold. The garden is "a world made of snow and glass," suggesting both fragility and preservation.

Strength and vulnerability are explored through the contrast between Zoya's public ferocity and her private tears, and between Nikolai's kingly duty and his longing to follow her through the snow.

Hope and miracles close the chapter. Their past victory over the Darkling was perhaps a miracle, and they dare to hope for another.

Why This Chapter Matters

This chapter is a turning point in the emotional arc of the novel. It reveals Zoya's hidden grief and humanity, deepening her character beyond the fierce general. It advances Nikolai and Zoya's relationship in a way that feels earned—not through grand declarations, but through shared vulnerability in a secret garden. The chapter also establishes the emotional stakes for the coming conflict: the loss of David Kostyk is framed as the true death blow dealt to Ravka, and the threat of Fjerdan invasion looms over everything. Nikolai's final resolve—to be the king his country needs—sets the stage for the choices he will face in the chapters ahead.

Study Questions and Answers

1. What does the memorial garden reveal about Zoya's character that her public persona hides?

The garden reveals that Zoya carries profound grief for every Grisha lost, not just the ones she was close to. She plants something for Marie, Sergei, Fedyor, Ivan, Harshaw, and Nina—a private ritual of remembrance. It shows she is not cold or unfeeling, but that she has chosen to grieve in secret, away from the eyes of those who depend on her strength. The garden is where her armor falls.

2. How does the thorn wood function as a metaphor for Zoya, and how does Nikolai reinterpret it?

Zoya sees the thorn wood as she sees herself: all prickles and spines and anger, covered in pretty but useless blossoms, nothing worth loving. Nikolai reinterprets it as protective and enduring—stronger than anything else in the garden, weathering every season and blooming again. He is telling her that her defenses are not flaws but strengths, and that she is worth loving.

3. Why does Nikolai decide not to follow Zoya at the end of the chapter, and what does this reveal about his character?

Nikolai wants to call her back and follow her through the snow, but he stops himself. He recognizes that his country doesn't need a heartsick boy chasing after a lonely girl—it needs a king. This reveals his commitment to duty over personal desire, and his understanding that his role demands sacrifice. It also sets up the tension between his feelings for Zoya and the political marriage he knows he may have to make.