Am I sorry? Not really. I've grown super obsessed with this story since I finished the first book so enjoy the prologue! Reyka has quickly become one of my fav characters and I can't wait for the show to come out so I can write more of her!
Warnings: While not present yet, there will be some more mature and dark themes present in this story, especially as we explore more of Reyka's past and relationship with the Darkling. I'll put warnings before the big chapters. Those are denoted with an asterisk.
Disclaimer: I do not own Shadow and Bone, the Grishaverse or anything else. I only own Reyka and the worldbuilding aspects of her Suli clan and the general story.
Please leave a review or a favorite if you enjoyed the chapter!
PROLOGUE
SHE REMEMBERED THE DAY better than most. It had been snowing. Bright white flakes landing on her tongue and eyelashes, a sensation she'd never felt before. Her life had been surrounded by burning suns and wild desert winds, but here in this tiny village on the edge of Os Alta, these grains of white sand visited them yearly, and they were much easier to navigate through than the heavy deserts she'd once known.
The square had been nearly empty except for the children, who were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the local priest to read them stories of the saints. Unlike most of the cities, Reyka's home was populated with members of her tribe, the people she'd always called family. She knew that it was mainly due to the King and Queen wishing to have their own personal entertainment in the form of acrobats, fortune tellers, and other occupations Ravkans thought Suli lived for.
Reyka herself had been called on by several young women in blue keftas, each wishing to have their fortune told or watch her dance. An eight year old forced to perform for women who wanted to see the exotic girl show off.
The snowstorms always worsened after those days.
"Cerxai!"
The girl stopped in her tracks and whirled around, catching sight of her mother shivering in her furs, standing outside their shabby stone hut, the straw roof growing lopsided due to the buildup of white powder on one side. Her mother motioned her toward their shelter, something that had been granted to them only a few months ago by the Queen's decree. Doing as she was told, Reyka moved toward her house, telling her friends not to wait up for her.
As the other children gathered around the frozen fountain in the square, Reyka looked longingly at the scene, a flurry of flakes blocking her vision as she shut the wooden door behind her.
Warmth flooded her bones and within moments she was sweating. Her family always kept the fire running even when winter was no longer upon them. It was difficult to adjust to the newer weather, and even the warmest days of the year were bitterly cold.
Reyka froze when she caught sight of a figure in red standing in the center of the living area. Their house was small, with Reyka and her parents sharing one room upstairs while the cramped walls and large fireplace made up the living area they spent most of their time in. The red woman had blonde curls that were pulled back into a severe bun, icy blue eyes narrowing themselves at Reyka.
Something was calling out to her, deep and dark and embedded in her soul until she couldn't deny it any longer. But one look at the apprehensive look on her parent's faces made her shove it back down.
"Mama?" She finally spoke, breaths shaky.
The woman in red answered her, "Your name is Reyka, correct?"
The girl turned to her mother in deference, looking for permission to give her personal name to this stranger. Her mother nodded, her father squeezing her shoulder. Reyka turned toward the woman and nodded.
"Do you have a last name?"
Reyka shook her head. Since the Queen's interference, clan names were rarely uttered. Reyka had never known what clan she belonged to, nor her parents. The only ones who knew were her grandmother and grandfather, who'd been taken by the saints long before she was born.
The woman in red pursed her lips, as if irritated with Reyka's lack of knowledge. She'd seen that face on her mother's face enough times to recognize it. "Come with me." The woman in red ordered, snatching Reyka's wrist and moving to pull her outside.
"No!" Reyka announced, pulling her wrist from the woman. The blonde official raised her eyebrows in shock at the defiance.
"Excuse me?"
Reyka rushed to her parents, hiding behind her father's leg as she bared her teeth at the woman. "I'm not going with you."
"Cerxai," Her father whispered, running a hand through her dark curls, "This is a member of the second army. If she says you go, you go."
Reyka shook her head again, planting her feet and clutching tighter to her father's robes. The woman in red arched an eyebrow at the display.
"Your daughter has spirit, Kovac," She muttered, her icy gaze drifting toward the one window in their house. It looked over the now deserted square, the flurry outside turning into a full-blown blizzard. Frost was gathering near the edge of the glass, and a smirk twitched at the edge of the woman's lips.
Without warning, the woman snatched Reyka's wrist again, pulling up her sleeve and digging her nail into her arm.
Reyka couldn't avoid the call this time, the droplets of sweat on her skin transforming into a thin sheet of frost, covering her exposed forearm and slowly spreading to the woman who'd grabbed her.
Her icy blue eyes were victorious and Reyka wasn't even allowed to say goodbye as she was dragged out of her house and into a carriage with fine cushions and drawn curtains. But she wasn't paying attention to any of that.
"MAMA! PAPA!" She called, the guards holding her down as she clawed her way forward, trying to ignore the call, trying to reach her family, to hold them and stay with them.
The air rushed out of her lungs, and Reyka gasped, her hands clawing at her throat, falling backward against the velvet seats of the carriage, an annoyed expression on the woman in red's face, her hand up in the air as she stared at the Suli before her.
The last thing Reyka remembered was blackness obscuring her vision.
SHE AWOKE TO A DOMED CEILING. All she could feel was comfort, sinking into the soft cushion beneath her, but something wasn't right. She couldn't recall why, but she knew that this was not where she belonged. Gilded walls and velvet cushions decorated her residency, and Reyka finally managed to catch sight of herself in the mirror near the corner of her room.
Her face was sallow, eyes sunken in as all of the life seemed to have drained from her. The only color left in her face was the deep violet in her eyes that she shared with her mother.
Her mother...
The memories slammed into her, sending her reeling backward against the bed, her breaths shallow and shaky, just as they had been when the woman in red had showed up at her house.
How long had she been out?
Did her parents know where she was?
Was she ever going to see them again?
The door opened and a girl with black hair and olive skin entered her room. She was dressed in white wool with golden embroidery, not much older than a teenager. "Reyka Kovacs?" She asked gingerly, picking at her dress.
Reyka nodded, unsure why they'd tagged her father's name at the end of hers. The girl closed the door behind her and set down a pair of peasant clothes. Breeches and a long white shirt, a silk tie beside it. But what Reyka was staring at was the robe that accompanied it. She recognized those colors.
That fabric.
She'd seen it on many visitors to her village.
The cerulean kefta waited for her, white embroidery decorating the collar and sleeves of the wool garment. It was winter time. Wool made sense.
But what did this mean?
"I don't wear those." Reyka blurted out, unable to stop herself. The teenage girl creased her brows together, as if trying to decipher her statement.
"Of course you do." She stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "You're Grisha."
The girl spoke as if it solved all her problems. As if that simple word was the entire reason she was here. As if Reyka was supposed to understand what that meant. She'd heard stories of girls and boys from other Suli tribes being taken at young ages, just like she had been.
Grisha.
She didn't even recognize that word. It was used only by the Ravkans. Her village had come to see all of Ravka as the same, whether they wore keftas or not. She never thought the robes had meant something else.
But they did.
Masters of the Small Science, she remembers the priest teaching her. They could control wind, the seas, the ground underneath them, and in some cases, they controlled the shadows beneath their feet.
Reyka shivered, goosebumps pimpling her skin as the white and gold girl stared at her curiously.
"Are you alright?"
Reyka didn't dare answer. Instead, she obeyed the girl as she moved around, undressing Reyka and tossing her traveling clothes aside. When she reached for her scarf, Reyka found her voice again. "Wait!"
The servant's hand froze on the brightly colored gauze, silently questioning her charge.
"Please," Reyka begged, her voice hoarse, "It's my mother's, I can't- Don't make me part with it."
A moment of silence stood between the two girls, one much younger than the other.
Fear gripped her bones, and she waited for the servant to disregard her wishes the way the woman in red did. To throw away all that remained of her old life.
But she didn't.
Instead the servant threw her a pitying glance and bundled up the scarf, pressing it into Reyka's hands. "Keep it secret. Anya's very particular about leaving everything behind and starting anew."
Reyka nodded and pressed the scarf to her nose, breathing in the smell of a burning fire and the spices that her mother always used. It smelled like home and as the servant continued to undress her, wetness prickling at the edge of her eyes.
It took everything in Reyka not to break down into tears right then and there.
Ravka would never be her home, she decided. It never could. Not when they'd taken her from those that loved her and forced her into a golden prison with no way of escape.
Grisha or not, she was a prisoner. And she would break free.
The vow never reached her lips, but it lingered in the back of her mind, mixing with the burning tears as they pooled into the scarf underneath her nose.
She would be free again. Of that she was certain.