interlude.
There had been a time when the Darkling brought her comfort.
Not in the typical sense of the word. He wasn't the man she went to to dry her tears, to reassure her that everything would be okay. Everything was not okay. Everything would never be okay, so long as Grisha lived a threatened life. So long as King Alexander was still on the throne.
The Darkling never lied to her, in that sense. Instead of 'it will all be okay', he gave her 'we are going to fix it.'
She had believed that. She still believed it. But it didn't give her the comfort it once had.
There had been an acceptable price. She wondered what it said, that she included herself in that bargain, but not Alina.
"You are unhappy with me, Genya."
She looked over at him from her tiny, portable workbench. Grateful that he'd spoken, wishing he'd said something different.
"I'm not sure what you expect me to say to that."
"The truth would be nice."
The truth was never nice. "You know I'm close to Alina," she said finally, focusing on the eyedropper she held over a vial. That's why you used her against me. "I worry about her. I miss her."
He made a noncommittal sound that send a chill creeping down her spine. A tinkling sound reverberated through the room; she steadied her hand. The truth was that he was ancient, and Alina was seventeen. The truth was that he had goals, and Alina's happiness was not at the top of the list. Or even on it at all.
The truth was that he couldn't love her, not really. Genya didn't think such a thing could exist amidst so much ego, so much power. And Alina would be too far gone before she realised it.
The Darkling was no fool. He wouldn't have brought it up if he hadn't put his finger on exactly what was making Genya unhappy with him. Everything he did and said had a greater purpose. She needed to remember that.
"Soon," he said finally, and it had the weight of a promise to it. "You will be free to travel with her, if that's what you choose. Can you bear it?"
Genya forced her shoulders to slump, coerced a tired smile of relief onto her face. Shrugged the familiar lie of comfort onto her body. It was important that he believed she believed his concern. It was important that he continued to believe himself a safe harbour for her, despite her worry for Alina.
"I am a soldier," she said. That was also the truth. "If my battlefield doesn't look like everyone else's, I can bear it all the same."
i.
Alina felt guilty.
It wasn't an emotion she wore well. It scribbled a scowl onto her face, made her shoulders hunch up. She stared at the little hut, like it might jump up on chicken legs and start doing a little dance.
"Come or go, girl," an ugly rasp came from inside it. "But don't stand out there looking like a fool. I know it comes naturally, but make an effort."
"And here I was just starting to feel bad for not visiting you in a while." She shoved the door open, letting a swirl of frigid air precede her. Baghra didn't comment on it, probably because she'd done it on purpose. Baghra hated to be satisfactory in any way.
"Who said I wanted to see you?"
"You didn't miss me?" The door clicked shut, and for a brief, disorienting second, Alina felt eight years old again. How long had it been since she'd visited the old Grisha? Months, at least. She couldn't remember if she'd come the last time she was at the Little Palace or not. "I'm hurt."
"The worries of your ego are of no concern to me."
"Wanting my teacher to miss me doesn't fall under an ego worry."
Baghra snorted. Her strange, tight face was cast in shadow in the back of the hut, even though it was the middle of the day. This place wasn't exactly one for natural light. Without thinking about it, Alina pulled on the strands of sun sneaking in through drawn curtains and the crack under the door, casting a pleasant glow throughout the room.
Did some of the shadows seem reluctant to withdraw? Alina wondered, sometimes, if she was making things up in her own head to fit her theories, or if they were really happening.
"Nine years and the best training in the world, and you still behave like an obnoxious brat," Baghra grumbled. "Come here then. Let me look at our new saint."
She didn't mean to blush. She was the Sun Summoner! An old and bitter woman in a hut shouldn't have phased her one bit. But she was kidding herself if she didn't think that Baghra was more - so much more - than that. To her, in general. She wanted the woman to be proud of her.
Or at least, not disappointed. It was an uncomfortable feeling, for a girl who had spent so much time lately being something else. She stepped in front of Baghra.
"I see you've dispensed with anything resembling subtlety." Gnarled fingers plucked the gold fabric of her kefta. "Does it make you feel secure, Sun Summoner."
"It's not for me. Everyone likes a show. Some people need one."
"Ah, so you wear rich cloth and fine jewels in your hair for the people."
"You think they'd believe in me if I came to them in rags? They need a symbol. They need hope."
Baghra leaned back in her chair. The ever-present fire crackled, the temperature in the room always slightly too hot. "And you have volunteered yourself."
It was Alina's turn to snort. She took her own seat, a silent declaration that she wouldn't be intimidated. Maybe it was a little silly. She didn't care. "I have been volunteered by any and everyone. People I don't even know. You can sit there and judge all you like, old woman, but what else did you expect me to do? What else could I have done?"
They stared at each other for a long moment, two women, each with their own immense power. How had Baghra come to end up in hut, on the edges of the Little Palace? What had the world volunteered her for, that she hadn't been able to turn away from?
"You will always have a choice," Baghra said finally. She was not looking at Alina, but at the too-hot fire. "Even when you think you have no other option, it will lurk in the dark. You make the decisions you think you can stomach, Alina. And live with the consequences."
She wanted to go. There was something in the old woman's voice, some ancient thing that might have been pain in someone who had lived less years. Anyone else would flee, Alina thought. She couldn't be blamed if she went.
She stood. Pulled down an old, familiar text from a nearby shelf, returned to her seat.
"Where did I leave off last time?"
"You think I can't read on my own?"
"I think you like having me do it for you."
"Hmmph."
interlude.
This place was obscene.
She fit right in.
The boy wondered what the hell he was doing there. She wanted him to track something - oh, he knew that much. Alina Starkov would use anything and everything at hand to achieve her goals, he was realising.
But he had his discharge, honourable, if not fairly gained. Had she even considered that he might run? Did she assume everyone would just fall over themselves to help her? Or was this some sort of test, some way of proving loyalty she hadn't earned?
Saints, he wanted to hate her. But that wasn't true. His shoulder was healed, but the boy could still remember the agony of claws piercing flesh, of being certain he would be torn apart. Or that his arm would be ripped from his body, and he would plummet to his death on the grey sands below.
She had come for him. And the boy wasn't a politician, but he could trace cause and effect easily enough. That action had consequences, and all signs pointed towards Alina being completely aware of what those consequences were.
He didn't owe her anything for that, he told himself. He hadn't asked her to come blazing into the Fold like a second sun, hadn't asked her to upset the apparently extremely delicate balance between nations for his sake.
And yet, here he was. In the Little Palace, being shown his new quarters, his new uniform.
Charcoal suited him, it turned out.
"Remember," his new friend Erik told him. "You do not deserve this."
He bared his teeth. "And what did you do, that was so worthy?"
The man said nothing. But the boy thought he knew, could piece together the answer from the silence and the light of sincerity in his face.
Here was a person who loved the Sun Summoner, and not with the ugly need of the Heartrender. Erik had devoted himself to the girl without any expectation of return, in a way even some of the boy's new comrades hadn't done.
On a visceral, instinctive level, the boy still hated him. But as Erik left the oprichniki quarters adjacent to hers, he couldn't help but feel the faintest kindling of something like respect.
ii.
She couldn't stop looking at him.
It was a problem. If Alina was in a position to be looking at Mal, other people were in a position to be noticing it. It was a dangerous thing, for people to be aware that there was a connection between them beyond 'I found this highly skilled tracker boy on the Fold'.
She told herself that she'd be fine if something happened to him. That the business with the Fold was an exercise in poor impulse control. That he was annoying anyway, and uncouth. Ill-behaved. He didn't even like her.
But the sight of him in an oprichnik uniform drew her gaze despite her best efforts, and not because it fit him well. It did, but she was Grisha. She had grown up around beautiful men.
She had also grown up with a patchwork uniform stashed in her bottom drawer. And the dream of a small and scared eight year old might have faded like the light at dusk, but some pale remnant had remained. Seeing it brought to life now, when she was setting out to become so much more more-
It unsettled her. She wasn't happy about that. She reached for her throat, absently fingering the alexandrite pendant nestled there. Next to her, Genya sighed.
"You're treading dangerous waters, Alina."
Coming from anyone else, Alina probably would have bitten their head off. From Genya, the truth in the words pinched at her. She nudged her friend. "Have a little faith. I'm a strong swimmer."
"If you think I'm going to extend this little metaphor any further, you don't know me at all." Amusement danced in golden eyes, but even Genya couldn't erase the worry completely from her face. "Where's your great hunk of glowering man meat?"
They were gathered outside one of the servants' entrances to the Little Palace - the Sun Summoner might have left in high style, but the saint slipped away in the early morning, to pop up who knew where next. Alina had a golden kefta packed away in her saddlebags, but for now, she wore an oprichnik uniform. The Darkling sent his soldiers throughout the countryside often, and it was unlikely anyone would see fit to bother them under his colours.
That was a sour thought. Alina swallowed it, trying to pick through her thoughts to find the particular hunk of man meat Genya was talking about.
"Ivan?" From the corner of her eye, she caught Mal's heavy eyeroll at the name. "I said goodbye last night."
"I hope you used protection."
"Genya." It took everything in her not to cast a furtive glance at the tracker. Erik and Olga were there as well, but they were well used to being privy to some of Alina's most intimate moments, and she was used to having them there. Mal? Mal was - well, he was new. She wasn't used to him. So there.
"What? It's a relevant concern." There was a wicked twinkle in Genya's eye. "It's not like you're taking a Healer with you."
"Saints, and to think I thought I was going to miss you."
But she pulled the older girl into a hug, and the two of them held each other for a beat longer than propriety strictly demanded.
"Soon," Alina murmured. "We'll find the stag, Genya, and everything will change. I promise."
"What do I care about some smelly animal? Just come home safe." Her gaze slid over Alina's shoulder, finding purchase on Mal's face. Alina gave a quiet groan, anticipating her next words. "Let her come to harm, otkazat'sya, and the things I do to you will make you beg for death."
"Do you people have an off switch?" he shot back. "Or is it just all drama, all the time?"
"Okay!" Alina said brightly, feeling Genya stiffen. "That was fun, but we really have to be off now. Things to do, mythical creatures to see." She pressed a kiss to Genya's cheek, before separating from her. "We'll be back before you know it. I have a good feeling about this."
Genya sniffed, tossing her head as she headed for the side door back into the palace. "I don't care about the rest of them. Just make it back in one piece."
Alina laughed, swinging herself up into one of the saddled horses readied for them. "I'm the Sun Summoner. It's everyone else who has to worry about staying in one piece around me."
iii.
"We're looking for a stag."
The look Mal was giving her could have stripped paint. She raised an eyebrow back at him. "Did I stutter?"
"Nope. White stag, straight out of an old wives' tale. Just making sure I'm not hallucinating."
"You're the one who can make rabbits out of rocks."
He snorted, but she noticed he turned his face away from her. Were his ears turning red? The horses were moving at speed; it was difficult to tell.
"Who told you that?"
"I hear things."
"It's not literal. It's not magic. Anyone can read the signs, I'm just better at it than-"
"Everyone?" He said nothing. "Or do you know someone else who could find tracks in the dark?"
"You were lighting the place up!"
Alina should have let it go. He was clearly agitated, although she couldn't tell why. It's not magic. Obviously it wasn't, and she'd never heard of a tracking Grisha before either. If it was the Small Science, the amplifier would have picked it up when they were children. Unless she hadn't been a very good amplifier?
She was transported, just for a moment, to a world where Mal had come to the Little Palace with her. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her gut. Why did she care so much? A year, less than a year, when she was a child - what was that in the face of a lifetime amongst Grisha?
Children feel things strongly, she told herself. You were a lonely little girl, of course you clung to the memory of him.
Of course there was more than one person she'd connected to as a child, but she certainly wasn't about to walk down that path.
"I think there's more to it," she said finally, realising she'd been silent too long. Mal was eyeing her strangely. "And even if there's not, you're clearly better than the people around you. You can't do any worse than those who have tried so far."
"Saints." She startled, hearing the venom on his voice. "Do you make all your decisions by measuring people's usefulness to you, or did I just get lucky?"
"You got lucky, boy," Olga called from behind them.
Instead of snapping at Mal like she'd been about to, Alina grinned. It was Mal's turn to look startled, and she didn't miss the way he looked between her and the other oprichnik. Like he'd been expecting some other kind of reaction from her.
"What else would you suggest I measure people by?" she said instead. "Their honesty and kindness? The good deeds they do? How do you judge people, that you think you have the right to get on my back about how I do?"
She waited for the retort, for the familiar prick of bewildered hurt that tended to come whenever this boy opened his mouth. And he did open his mouth - twice, in fact - but whatever it was that he wanted to say, he appeared to think better of it.
They rode on in silence.
iv.
"It's cold."
"Excuse me," Alina said, rising from the campfire. Three sets of eyes followed her, Erik and Olga already half rising to join her. She gave them a flat look. "I can relieve myself on my own, thanks."
They both looked like they wanted to argue, but they stayed where they were. It was a difficult balance to maintain sometimes, giving them autonomy while keeping her own. She'd managed it so far, but she was aware that Mal had tipped the scales. In what direction, it remained to be seen.
She waited until she had passed through a good number of snow laden trees before speaking to her visitor.
"You aren't helping my reputation," she murmured, leaning against a nearby trunk. It pulled at the threads of her kefta, pure gold now. "A saint and the Sun Summoner, with the weakest bladder known to man."
The Darkling stood near her, close enough to touch if she reached for him. She kept her hands to herself. "Consider it an exercise in creativity."
"Oh, so you're my teacher now?"
"Haven't I always been?"
Alina wondered. It had been Baghra who had led her to the depths and edges of her power, other Grisha who had trained her in the minutiae. Botkin, an otkazat'sya, who had taught her to fight.
"That doesn't say anything particularly nice about you, you know."
He didn't move, barely batted an eye. And yet the energy between them shifted in a breath, electrified. "If I wanted to be nice to you, Alina, I wouldn't be here."
She closed her eyes, tipping her head back against the trunk. A tiny shower of snow drifted over her hair. She told herself that was what caused the shiver. "Do you know what I want to learn, sir?"
"Tell me."
She traced a lattice of light through the trees, barely noticeable through the dappled sun poking holes in the canopy overhead. She could feel the shadows of branches sweeping back and forth overhead, the skittering of animals scouring the chill environment for food. "How to defy the laws of time and space to come and see you when you least expect it. The middle of a strategy meeting, maybe. When you're trying to give a stirring speech."
His chuckle was low, warm against the air. She couldn't feel him pass through her light, but she knew he moved closer.
"Not alone?"
Alina paused, cracking an eye open. He was close enough to touch now, if she so much as leaned forward. She kept her back to the tree. "Maybe alone."
"And what have I done, that I win only a maybe from you?"
"Maybe I'm playing hard to get."
"Then you are very bad at this game."
She opened her other eye, met his directly. Close enough to breathe on, if he was really there. What did he feel? "Maybe I haven't started playing in earnest."
Silence. Alina waited, sure he was going to kiss her, or come back with some new teasing comment, but-
Something else crossed his face. Something new. Alina had known the Darkling for nearly a decade now, but she struggled to remember ever seeing an expression on those carved features that might have been called vulnerable. She wasn't even sure she could use the word now, but it was the only thing that seemed to apply.
"I would prefer if you didn't."
Some girls wished for an I love you. Alina hadn't been aware that she'd been waiting for something like this until he said the words. Until he looked at her like it would mean something if he lost her.
She sucked in a breath. It shuddered between them. "You're getting soft on me."
"Is that a complaint?"
"What do you think?"
Something brushed the edge of Alina's awareness, something real and tangible. Some part of her double checked the movement for suspicious activity, but it didn't feel dangerous. Not compared to the man before her.
"I think," the Darkling said softly, and he wasn't there, he wasn't there, but she felt his breath on her cheek anyway, "that you have company."
"Alina?"
She started, and the Darkling was gone. Standing in his place - or not in his place, not nearly so close, but having been previously hidden by the shape of the man - was Mal.
A beat passed.
"I told you I didn't need a helping hand," she snapped. The net of light flared brighter, and the boy let out a faint yelp.
He scowled at her, having regained his dignity. "Well I'm sorry if you made me a guard, and I thought you might need some guarding. You've been gone nearly half an hour."
She stalked through the trees, shoving past him. "Maybe I had stomach troubles. Unless I'm screaming, don't follow me."
He made a gesture like he was going to catch her arm, but caught himself. Alina stopped anyway, wrapping her arms around her chest. How much had he seen? She didn't like that he might have seen any of it, and she couldn't put her finger on why.
"You looked-" She waited for him to continue, and why was she always waiting on men? He blew out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I was just worried about you, all right? Is that okay?"
Alina swallowed down the urge to snap at him again. There was something about Malyen Oretsev that seemed to make her frustrated, no matter what she was doing. "I suppose I can allow it."
He snorted. "Whatever you say, Terror of Nations. What was that, by the way?"
"What was what?"
"The light thing. It didn't feel hot."
Alina considered for a moment. The lattice wasn't something she made general knowledge, but if he was going to be guarding her, it would do him good to know that she wasn't completely obtuse when it came to her own personal safety. "It mimics the natural light," she said finally. "If I lay it in a perimeter around me, I can feel the shadows crossing it. Most people don't notice."
"Huh." Without realising it, they had started to walk. "I guess that's how you sensed me."
"Sensed you?" She gave him a blank stare. "Sensed you when?"
The eyeroll he gave her should have pricked at her usual frustration, but it didn't. Maybe because he didn't seem to be mocking her this time, or mad. He pitched his voice higher, but teasing. "'Are you going to do anything, or just stand there?'"
A laugh escaped Alina before she could stop herself. Through the mesh of trees before them, she could see both Erik and Olga jerk, turning towards the sound. "Is that supposed to be me?"
"You're right, the accent was way too low class. Sorry, Terror of Nations, should I elongate my vowels?"
"My vowels are perfectly fine, thank you very much. That was you?"
He shrugged. They weren't touching, but she could feel the motion. "My unit was leaving Poliznaya. It was the lean season, I was hunting. I guess I found more than I'd bargained for. I thought I could sneak up on anything, until that day."
"Well, then." She took her seat next to the campfire, trying not to think about what else the Darkling might have said if Mal hadn't interrupted. She was on a mission now. She needed to focus. "I'm glad I was able to poke a hole in that ego of yours, tracker."
He laughed. It was a clear sound, more genuine than she'd expected. Alina couldn't help but smile back.
"Oh, no. My ego's definitely fine."
The passed the rest of the evening easily for once, but Alina couldn't help wondering if the Darkling would return to her, once she retired to her tent.
He didn't.