before.
The girl fought.
She had stilled for a moment. The space in between two breaths. In the grand scheme of things, it was an infinitesimal length of time. It should have been meaningless.
But it was enough.
"There is something…" The woman in red frowned, hand clamping down tighter around the girl's wrist. The girl could feel her, or some part of her. Reaching inside, reassuring. Certain. This is who you are, it whispered, as it teased out some thread of her very being.
"Mal!" The girl bucked her entire body, putting all the force of her young life into her voice and into her will. She grabbed a hold of that thread, and tried her desperate best to sever it. "Mal!"
"Alina!"
At the sound of his voice, the girl relaxed. And the world shattered, in a burst of brilliant, white light.
They put her back with the boy, afterwards. Even Grisha Examiners tired of screaming eventually. The second she was able, she fell into him, feeling his pudgy hands gripping her tight as she burbled apologies.
"It's okay." The tremor in his voice was like an earthquake, shaking the girl apart. It was not okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. "It's not your fault, Alina. You – you didn't mean to, right?"
The girl shook her head frantically. "No!" Her own spindly fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt. "They're going to take me away, Mal."
The boy could have promised they would not. Could have sworn he would make them take him as well. But eight years old was old enough for orphans to know what illusions the world would let them keep. There was no making Grisha do anything.
"I'll find you," he whispered instead, and made his voice fierce to cover the fear. "Alina? I'll find you."
The girl nodded, and clung to the boy until the Grisha made her unclench her fingers, one by one.
i.
It didn't take Alina long to figure out that she'd done something really strange. Ana Kuya had called her a lot of things, but she'd never been accused of stupidity. Once the tears had dried and she had settled into a stunned, scared silence, she was able to listen in on what the Grisha were saying over her head.
She had been bundled into the woman's red kefta and sandwiched into the troika in between the two men. The woman sat opposite them, expression tight as the sleigh lurched into motion. Not unkindly, the younger man had explained to Alina that if she kept making so much noise about leaving, they would be forced to punish Mal for it. Mal, it seemed, had been given the same warning; they had held each other's gazes, white-faced and quiet, until the coach tore them apart forever.
Not forever, Alina reminded herself, squeezing her eyes shut against fresh tears. Mal had promised. He would find her.
"...still think we ought to have sent word," the man in blue was saying. Alina hadn't bothered to remember any of their names. "We aren't prepared to deal with the possible repercussions of this."
"We are not," the woman said sharply. "Which is why we have left. Waiting for orders means not only time to send word, but time for word to be sent back, and then we would have to make this trip regardless. Haste is our ally now, not caution."
"We might try for both," the man in purple said dryly, earning himself a poisonous look from the woman.
It wasn't a word Alina was familiar with, but it didn't sound like anything good. Swaddled in the kefta, she shifted uncomfortably.
Had she done something wrong? They were taking to her to Os Alta. Was she to face the King's justice? Honestly, she wasn't even sure what she had done. The woman had reached inside her, and there had been light where there was none before.
Darkness, everyone knew about. Tales of the Darklings had been passed down through generations - even Ana Kuya had made hushed mention of them on more than one occasion. They had torn Ravka apart. They kept Ravka safe. But there were no stories about light.
It occurred to Alina that she might not be facing the King's justice at all.
ii.
Days blurred together. Alina wasn't sure how long it took to get to the capital, only that it didn't take long enough. Despite the man in purple - his name was Grigori, she learnt grudgingly - keeping up a litany of tales about the comforts of the Little Palace, she was still terrified of what awaited her at their destination. Any length of time would not have been long enough.
Beyond that, the faster they travelled, the harder it was going to be for Mal to catch up. She didn't exactly have the details nailed down about how an eight year old boy was going to travel through a Ravkan winter to get to Os Alta, but he had promised. He'd find her.
As she eavesdropped on the Grisha's conversations, she gleaned that they worried about being attacked. But even though there was unmistakable worry in their voices, she couldn't help but notice a hint of something else. Something so alien to an orphan girl from the borderlands, it wasn't until she played their words over and over in her little mind that she realised what it was.
That was more terrifying than anything else her imagination could summon. At least,that was what Alina thought right up until the moment she overheard the word Darkling.
Her entire body seized, enough so that Grigori noticed. There was a pause, before the collar of the kefta covering her face was tugged away, and warm brown eyes blinked down at her.
"You are supposed to be asleep, Miss Alina," he chided.
She ignored that.
"Is that who you're taking me to?" she demanded, sounding braver than she felt. "Is the - is the Darkling going to punish me?"
"Punish you?" Blonde eyebrows winged their way upwards. "Is that why you've been such a quiet little mouse?"
No, she wanted to say. She had been quiet because, even though Mal was long in the distance now, he wouldn't always be. When they were together again, she didn't want anyone punishing him for any outbursts on her part.
So she stayed silent, prompting a sigh from the man. "You are not going to be punished. Do you think I am a liar? I have been telling you for days now, the things you will have in the Little Palace. You will want for nothing, I promise you."
"Especially you," the man in blue muttered, whereupon he was immediately shushed by the woman.
Especially you. The rest of the talk fell away as Alina considered that. Different again, a voice in her head said.
It wasn't until they actually arrived in Os Alta that she realised how neatly she had been distracted from asking about the Darkling.
iii.
I can walk! Alina wanted to bite it out with all the ferocity her tiny body could manage, but she didn't. She wanted to do a lot of things she couldn't. She wanted to not be here.
Here was the Little Palace, or at least that was what Grigori had told her. They had told her to keep her face hidden for now, so she had only seen it in flashes as he carried her - golden domes, animals in the wood, people in charcoal clothes scurrying around. Like rats, she thought, and instantly felt bad for it. It wasn't the servants' fault she was here, after all.
At least, she didn't think so.
"Klara has gone on ahead," Grigori was explaining. "So we will be seen immediately! And afterwards, I will see if I can find you some of those cakes I was telling you about."
The most distressing part of that sentence was that, after days on the road, the cakes did sound tempting. Alina knew bribery when she heard it.
"...Fine," she mumbled. Maybe she would be able to save one, for when she saw Mal again.
"Ahah, so she does speak! Here I was beginning to think I had imagined those lungs."
Alina made a pained sound, feeling her face burn in humiliation. But Grigori's chuckle rumbled through her, and she realised after a moment that she was...relaxing. The smallest amount, but enough that the man had to shift his grip on her.
"It will all be fine, Alina. You will see."
It will all be fine. There were five words that Alina did not trust in the , she didn't doubt that her new guardian believed it, and that was a little comforting. She tucked her face into his chest and tried not to fall asleep to the easy rhythm of his steps. It had been a long trip, after all.
iv.
It seemed lately that whenever Alina tried to do things, she failed at them. Blinking blearily, she rubbed at her eyes with a kefta clad hand as Grigori nudged her awake, setting her gently on the ground. Even so, she stumbled a little under the weight of the material - the garment was made for an adult, after all, and Alina had never been a robust child.
"You brought her straight to me, then."
She stiffened, hand freezing in front of her face. The voice was a new one, cool and distant. Like an ice melt, she decided, and nodded to herself before she realised what she was doing.
"Da, moi soverenyi." That was the woman, the one whose kefta she was wearing. Grigori had called her Klara, not that Alina cared. This was all her fault, after all. "I apologise for the state of her, but-"
"You have done well."
A chair creaked, and from behind her hand, Alina saw something dark move towards her. She backed away, into Grigori's legs, but he pushed her back. She stumbled again, but this time the dark shape caught her, careful hands steadying. Instantly, she felt calm for the first time since Klara had put her hands on her.
Not just dark, she realised, lifting her head. Black.
The first thing she noticed were his eyes. Grey, like the sky before it rained. She tensed, expecting a thunderstorm, but the man - the black shape was a man - merely let her go, and straightened.
"I will see to the situation from here." That ice melt voice tumbled over her head. "Your service will be rewarded, if what Klara reported is true."
Klara and the man in blue - she still didn't know his name - turned to leave, but Grigori hesitated. At least, he did when Alina whipped around, kefta trailing belatedly behind her.
"Grigori!" she cried. Somewhere behind him, Klara winced.
Grigori glanced up at the man in black, before crouching in front of her. His face broke into an easy smile. "I will see you soon, little mouse. Remember what I said before?" He tapped her under the chin with his finger. "No crying, now."
He stood and followed his fellow Grisha out of the room, leaving Alina to wonder if he had wanted her to remember the cakes, or his threat about Mal.
v.
The door shut with a click that wasn't anywhere near dramatic enough for how alone Alina abruptly felt. A beat or two passed, before a rustling sound alerted her to the fact that the man was crouching down again, swooping in from his impressive height to look her in the eyes.
She caught only the briefest flash of gray before instinct made her turn her face away again. She didn't hide it this time, though. Just looked somewhere over his shoulder, towards two heavy doors leading out of the room she was in. It surprised her to realise that she wasn't scared of this man, even with his cool voice and his pale skin, such a sharp contrast to the colour of his clothes.
She was angry.
"Do you know who I am?"
Alina did. Or at least, she thought she did. A tremble ran through her small form. Maybe she was a little bit scared.
"The Darkling," she said finally, still not meeting his gaze. And then, before she could stop herself- "It's your fault they took me."
There was a pause, before the hint of a sigh brushed against her cheek. It felt...sad. Or if not sad, at least regretful. Startled, she jerked her head up.
The clouds in those eyes had cleared away, and if he wasn't looking at her warmly, at least that distance had gone. He didn't seem as old as she thought his height implied - more like Grigori's age, really, even if that didn't make any sense at all.
"You are right," he said softly. "On both counts. I'm sorry for that, but if you are what Klara thinks you are, you had to be kept safe. And so did Keramzin."
"Keramzin?" A shock of fear sent her rigid. Mal. And Ana Kuya, and everyone else there. Even the big kids, who would tease them for entertainment. "What did I do? What's going to happen to Keramzin?"
Vague memories roared to the forefront of her mind. She had done her best to suppress everything about her life before the orphanage, like she was supposed to, but sometimes - sometimes she couldn't help herself. She wasn't an orphan for no reason.
"Most likely nothing will happen to it." He reached out to take her arm, searching for her hand in the folds of the kefta with a light touch. His fingers were long and white as they curled around her wrist, and she couldn't help but think that the same words could be applied to hers, much smaller though they were.
Alina waited for him to address her first question, but it didn't seem like he wanted to. As his hand closed over her skin, though, she found she didn't mind so much. Surety washed over her; her travel-tired legs held her up better, and as she looked into that grey gaze, she felt her heart rate slow down. In the back of her mind, her memories folded themselves quietly away.
It wasn't like Klara's touch. She'd felt the same thing then, but it had been clouded by panic and desperation. Right now, Alina was most just confused and exhausted, both of which were feelings that got wiped away with the Darkling's touch. When his presence reached for that something inside of her, she simply sighed back at him, and let it rise.
She didn't shatter this time, so much as unravel. That something inside of her became something outside of her, a soft warm glow that danced over their joint hands before it reached out to the rest of the room, brighter and brighter until she had to squint against the glare.
Alina could still see him, though. It was only a brief second, but she was starting to learn that sometimes, a brief second was all the world needed to turn itself upside down. Something flashed across his face.
It looked like hope. And with their hands and their beings connected like they were now, Alina didn't feel scared. Not like she had when she'd heart that same note in the voices of the other Grisha.
This is what you are.
vi.
"You have heard tales of me, I'm sure."
The Darkling had set her in one of the uncomfortable chairs at his long table, but not before calling for servants. One of them had bought more cushions. It didn't make the chair any more comfortable, but Alina knew how to be polite.
She hesitated. The tales she had heard were the kind of stories that Ana Kuya had banned, both because they scared the children in the orphanage, and because - well, the Darkling was the leader of the Second Army. Even Alina knew that you weren't really supposed to say bad things against that sort of person, although people did anyway.
He lifted the lid from a tray another of the servants had brought in, and gestured for her to help herself. "It's all right. I've heard the worst ones. If people weren't afraid of the things I might be able to do, they wouldn't feel secure in my ability to protect Ravka."
Alina turned that one over in her mind as she leaned forward, inspecting the tray. It was food, she realised. A tremulous smile touched her face when she saw the cakes. Had Grigori sent them? Or did the Darkling just like sweet things? Either answer was a good one, she felt. Still, she had to glance up at the Darkling to double check, making sure it was definitely okay for her to take one.
Her small smile was echoed on his mouth, except with more confidence. "Go on, solnyshko."
Sudden warmth spread through her. Solnyshko. Little sun. Grigori had been calling her little mouse, of course, but that only served to remind her of how powerless she had been. How frightened. Little sun. She reached forward and took a cake, hesitated, and then quickly snatched another. Mal would never believe this.
"I've heard stories about Darklings," she said finally. "One of them created the Unsea." That one, at least, she knew was fact. "And...you do what I just did. But with shadows."
He reached forward and took a cake of his own. "Right on all counts again. But do you understand what it is you just did?"
Alina looked down at her hands, now sticky sweet. She swallowed a mouthful of cake, and took another second to find the right word. She could only think of one. "Light," she said finally. "I made light."
"You made light," he echoed. She couldn't help but notice that half of his treat was already gone. "That is why you had to be taken from Keramzin. The Unsea is more than just a tale for scaring children. It strangles Ravka, makes us weak. What you can do may mean an end to that weakness. And Ravka has enemies, people and countries who would think nothing of burning down an orphanage if it meant destroying you."
She froze, hand halfway to her mouth. "But-" You made light. The other name for the Unsea was the Shadowfold. "But I'm just a child! A nobody! And Keramzin doesn't have anything to do with what I did, why would anyone-?"
She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. The thought itself was too distressing, and she could feel that thing inside her fluttering up her throat, beating at her chest. Let me out. Let me out. I will stop them, let me out.
The Darkling reached out again. Somehow, his fingers weren't even a little bit sticky as he laid them over her arm. Calm rocked through her, and she stared up at him with wide eyes.
Kind, she thought, as he looked back. He looks kind. And unlike Grigori, he hadn't threatened anyone she cared about to get her to behave.
"Some people in this world would rather extinguish light than let it grow in someone else's hands," he said quietly. "But there is no reason for them to harm Keramzin or anyone in it, now that you are gone. And as for you, solnyshko - I will protect you."