o.
She felt the heavy weight of it resting around her neck at all times; an eternal reminder that she was his and always would be.
She'd tried to convince herself that it was just a pretty necklace, his gift to her. From the way the other Grisha looked at it longingly, she almost thought it was true. But every night, he would make her stand in front of his mirror and show her it was nothing but an extension of his hand, holding her like a puppet.
A collar.
The kind you put around a dog or a slave.
The corners of his mouth would turn up a little whenever he caught sight of it, silently mocking her. She was the fury of the sun reduced to mere candlelight in his hands. When he'd marched the Unsea south to Shu Han and north to Fjerda, he'd pulled her close and whispered to her, his tone condescending and sardonic, "Good girl."
These two words were the only thing that mattered to her anymore. She'd watched Mal die, torn apart by the volcra. She'd watched the King and Queen ripped from their thrones, the princes disappearing into the night. She'd watched the whole of Ravka and beyond, slowly and reluctantly bend their knees to the tyrant before her.
Thinking of Mal, of his kind eyes and steady hand, was something Alina avoided as much as she could. The sharp ache of pain that went through her at his memory was worse than anything the Darkling could ever do to her.
So she put away the pieces of her old life, tried to convince herself none of it had ever happened. The Darkling had stripped away everything she'd ever known and loved. She was under his thumb, but his touch filled her with surety and calm-the only solace that was left to her in this new world. From now on, she was the Darkling's pawn, his slave, his pet.
Absently, she touched the collar and smiled.
i.
It started out with little bargains.
She had very little freedom at the Grand Palace where he'd built his fortress. The Darkling kept her close to him, bringing her along during his council meetings, putting her sleeping chambers beside his, and setting his personal guard to follow her wherever she went. He told her she was precious, that he wanted to keep her close. She smiled gently and pretended his affection and attention had nothing to do with her power.
She wanted to go for a walk around the palace grounds with Genya but she knew it was not that simple. She was not allowed to leave. She would have to bargain.
The Darkling was in his study, sitting in a chair with an ankle crossed over his knee and an emptied glass of vodka. The dim light cast sinister shadows on his face. He didn't look up at her as she stepped into his view. She waited quietly for him.
"Speak," he said, his voice cold as ice.
"May I please go for a walk outside with Genya?"
His expression changed from boredom to amusement. "And why would you need to go for a walk, Alina?"
"I just needed some fresh air. I haven't spent much time with Genya either." Because you've been keeping us apart , she thought bitterly.
"If you want to walk with Genya," he said dangerously, "you can do it inside the walls of the palace."
He watched her carefully and Alina held his gaze until his eyes wandered down to the collar at her neck, the ghost of a smirk on his face.
"It's not fair," Alina said slowly, wishing she didn't sound so much like a pleading child. "Everyone else in the Palace is free to go where they want. It's just for one afternoon."
He raised a single eyebrow the way he did when he was negotiating with a stubborn councilmen. Or trying to manage the King.
"If I let you outside, what will you do for me in return?"
The word anything was on the tip of her tongue. But she knew she couldn't say the word so callously, so thoughtlessly. She'd paid dearly for it the last time.
Over the months, she learned that he had a dark taste for humiliation. Pulling someone down from their pristine throne and dragging them through the dirt gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction. It's what he'd done with the Ravkan king. It's what he done to his enemies. She could work with that, she thought.
"I'll get down on my knees and beg you."
He might like that. He might like to see Sankta Alina on her knees.
Something dark flashed in his eyes for a moment. Evidently, the thought did hold some appeal but it was not the answer he was looking for.
"No. I don't think so."
"I'll do it in front of everyone, then," Alina amended quickly. "The people are afraid of you, they curse your name. But they still see me as their saviour. If they saw that I was...devoted to you, then perhaps they'd change their mind."
A moment passed in which he seemed to consider her offer.
"That's better," he said, finally, standing up and slowly closing the space between them. She planted her feet so she wouldn't back away as he captured her cheek in his hand. "Let them see their little saint on her knees begging for Ravka. It is what I should have made you do when you abandoned your country and ran off with that otkazat'sya ."
He said the word with so much venom, Alina nearly flinched. She made herself look into his storm grey eyes but there was no kindness there, no comfort. But his touch was different; his touch was calm and steady. She leaned into his hand.
He pulled it away with a mocking smile. "Go. Go take your walk. When you come back, I want all of Ravka to see you on your knees, Sankta."
She swallowed, unsure of what he wanted her to say, what he'd make her do, of who would be watching. She gave a small bow (" moi soverenyi ") and left.
ii.
It was bright cold day. Outside the Palace walls, pairs of oprichnik clad in charcoal marched purposefully around the perimeter. Beyond the gates stood the peasantry and the serfs, pointing through the narrow bars, crying, "Sankta! Sankta!"
Alina ignored them. She could not save them.
Genya steered her into the small wood behind the palace which was mercifully free of Grisha and any other soul. She pulled Alina's long hair into a single braid as she told the girl about her days-mostly little superficial things: a servant from the kitchens wanted advice on how to charm an oblivious Etheralki, she'd once completely messed up the kefta measurements for a Heartrender, and David had been ignoring her for far too long.
Alina smiled. She didn't mind Genya's stories, even if the world seemed to be crumbling around her. It was the only semblance of normality she had left. Genya never talked of the Darkling or the past either, for which Alina was grateful.
When they reached the doors of the Grand Palace on their return, Genya pressed her hand to Alina's shoulder, concern swimming in her blue eyes.
"I know you had to bargain something away for this afternoon. Just be careful."
"Of what?"
"Of powerful men."
She gave her what Alina thought was a bittersweet smile before returning to her wing of the palace. Alina made her way back to her own chambers thinking that it was much too late to be careful now.
iii.
"On your knees, Sankta."
Ivan gave her a rough shove forward into the Palace square. The gates were once again full of the desperate and crying faces of the peasantry, the abandoned, the otkazat'sya. A perfect row of the Darkling's oprichniki stood guard, ready to strike down anyone who dared step out of line.
He was standing in the center of the square, his black kefta swirling around him like a living shadow. He watched her approach, his features cold and unreadable. She hated when she didn't know what he was thinking. She had to be ready for anything.
She was in view of the large crowd that had gathered outside the gates, crying her name, and in also in view of the rows of brightly colored Grisha that watched curiously. She knew Genya must be in the crowd somewhere along with Nadia, Marie, Zoya and David. She tried not to think about what they would say to her, what they would think of her, after today.
"You heard the Heartrender," he said quietly.
She lowered herself onto her knees before him. Even through the layers of her kefta , she could feel the hard stone biting into her skin.
"Now, beg for Ravka."
She didn't know what to say at first. She was vaguely reminded of when he told her to beg for Mal's life. That hadn't ended well. Did he want her to grovel at his feet? To make more bargains? To call him by his title? How much did he want to humiliate her in front of her people?
"I'm sorry," she started. "I'm sorry I ran away when Ravka needed me. But I'm here now and I'm begging you to spare our people."
He looked unmoved. "You can do better than that."
She felt herself reddening. "Please let Ravka have peace. Please . I'll...I'll do anything for you to save her."
The corners of his mouth quirked up. She had uttered the wretched word but it still wasn't good enough. He turned to glance at his oprichniki , who reached through the bars and grabbed the screaming peasantry.
"Perhaps you need a little motivation."
"No!" Alina cried. This hadn't been part of their bargain. She found herself clutching his leg. She bent down and kissed his boot. "Please, don't hurt them."
He pulled the braid Genya had made and forced her to look up at him.
"Did you think I would slaughter my own people? Did you think your begging could save them?"
He was mocking her but all she could think about was how he had marched the Unsea into Novokribirsk the day Mal died. She shook her head.
"That power lies with you," she murmured, so no one else could hear. "I just wanted to please you."
That seemed to soften his expression a little. He pulled her up and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was slow and gentle, like he wanted to take his time. She opened her mouth for him and he ran his tongue along her bottom lip, sending a small shiver down her skin. She hated him, but she hated herself more for liking it.
When he pulled away from her, a rush of cold air greeted her in his absence.
A sound of horror erupted from the crowd, their faces looking bewildered and betrayed. She was no longer their innocent little saint. She was just as powerless as they were.
She was his plaything.