Day 2: Warmth
Set on the road to Os Alta after the Fjerdan attack.
As worn-out and tired as she was, Alina couldn't find rest. When she closed her eyes, her mind was flooded with memories of the attack, she saw the blood, the mutilation, the Fjerdan assassin being torn apart by the Cut. While the wooden barn they had chosen as their shelter creaked and groaned in the wind, Alina lay awake, shivering and reliving the horror of the attack over and over again.
It wasn't the first time she had seen someone die and while the image of the dead sometimes stayed with her for a while after, this one was different. She had never seen it from up close, never in such a brutal, unforgiving manner. And she had never been the target before. While Alina wondered how long it would be before the memory of the bloodbath faded, there was another matter that weighed heavily on her mind: Would it happen again now that she was… this? The Sun Summoner. Grisha.
The face of the Fjerdan assassin forced its way back into her mind, right at the moment the Cut hit and tore him to pieces. The look of shock on his face had been so brief. He had died before realising what was happening to him. Another shiver came over her and Alina opened her eyes. She would find no sleep tonight.
All of a sudden, Alina felt something touch her shoulder and she sat up with a start. She looked around for the source of the touch and found the Darkling right next to her while he gently draped his Kefta around her shoulders. The weight was heavy, but the remnants of his body heat still clung to it and warmed her cold, aching back and arms.
"We can't risk a fire," he stated calmly. "There might be other Fjerdans close by."
Alina regarded him for a moment, unsure of what to say. She didn't trust him, even though he hadn't given her any reason not to since rescuing her from the witch hunters. Yet all those stories she had heard about his powers, about his power at court, about him made her wary. Still, now that she looked at him sitting next to her, without his Kefta protecting him from the cold, Alina felt grateful regardless. He was the reason she was still alive – but he was also the reason she had had to run for her life in the first place, the reason she kept seeing a dead man's face whenever she closed her eyes. She was angry and grateful at the same time.
"Thank you," she managed eventually, gesturing towards the black Kefta that was now draped around her shoulders. Alina pulled it a little more tightly around her body and caught a whiff of his scent that clung to the fabric. She realised that she liked it and shoved the thought away, burying it deep inside her mind. Instead, she focused on the warmth of the fabric, which was pleasant and soothing on her aching body.
"You should try to get some rest," the Darkling said, his voice soft and low. "We still have a long ride ahead of us before we reach Os Alta."
Alina opened her mouth to protest, to explain that she couldn't possibly sleep after everything that had happened today. The Fold, the Volcra, the sunlight that had flooded the tent and shattered her whole identity, the Fjerdan attack. Nothing should be able to surprise or shock her now, but the idea of entering Os Alta with the Darkling, the idea of the Little Palace, the idea of being Grisha was still so absurd that Alina couldn't wrap her mind around it. Instead of trying, she decided to focus on the warmth the Darkling's Kefta provided and the pleasant scent emitting from it. That was all she wanted to feel right now. If she allowed for her fears and doubts to come to the surface, she was afraid she might go insane.
"Sleep," the Darkling reminded her as if he could sense the protest that failed to leave her lips.
Alina wanted to trust him, but she wasn't sure yet whether she could. But what else did she have now that she was torn from her friends, from everything she had ever known? The least she could do was trust him to keep her safe until they reached Os Alta. What came next was not something Alina even dared to imagine, not yet anyway.
"I…" she began, but broke off, knowing how silly it would sound to someone like the Darkling. Yet when he raised his eyebrows and gave her an expectant look, she knew that she had to speak now. "I keep seeing the man who tried to kill me. The moment you used the Cut on him."
His expression barely changed, but he gave the briefest nod to convey that he understood. How many men had the Darkling seen die that way? How many had he killed that way?
"He can't harm you anymore," he replied eventually, his gaze set directly on her. "You're safe with me."
Alina barely registered when his eyes left her and he nodded towards something or someone behind her. She barely registered the Heartrender's movements. The only thing Alina noticed now was that she was beginning to feel drowsy and sleep called out to her like a familiar friend, welcoming her with open arms.
"Rest now," the Darkling reminded her gently. "You'll be home soon enough."
Alina nodded and sank back down into the straw. It seemed a little softer than before, more comfortable now under the warm protection of the Darkling's Kefta. When she closed her eyes, she didn't see the Fjerdan's face, only shadow. Then, she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.