A/N: I don't know what cursed spirit of a regency author to jump into my body and turn this into the sort of story which revolves around passed notes and what feels like a painful amount of slow burn and yearning, and yet. Here we are.

She wasn't quite certain what was worse: being trapped in the same cycle of Grisha lessons, struggling to conjure light on demand, or having another private lesson with Kirigan looming unknown in the future. Alina had resigned to the fact that the general was more than likely indifferent to her actual riding skills - what realistically were the chances she would need to display a perfect canter? - and that the private lessons were simply a means to determine her status and progress without seeming like an interrogation. Regardless of his insistence that the King had to be patient with her mastery of the sun, Alina still knew that was the only thing that mattered about her.

That was what Alina told herself because it was easier to compartmentalize that way. Days slipped into weeks, three long ones, before the Black General was even back on the Little Palace grounds. Skirmishes and further failed crossings pulled Kirigan from Os Alta.

Genya was a grounding presence as well as the one person who Alina believed saw her as more than just her lackluster sun summoning. Alina had convinced the tailor to take meals with her at the Etherealki side of the dining hall when she was around. It had taken surprisingly little nudging to get Nadia and Marie on her side to welcome the tailor. Alina suspected it was due to - what else - Alina's status rather than genuine friendship. But in the end, she got what she wanted.

Genya didn't ask about her summoning lessons. She answered Alina's questions about what things were like in the Little Palace before, what things Alina had missed by hiding from the Grisha testers before, how the Grisha ended up at the front or here or anywhere else. Not every question had an answer, and Genya had plenty of her own to bandy back at Alina; but it was refreshing to have an outlet for the things that burned in the back of her mind.

She didn't have enough self control not to ask about the front, about the war, about where the First Army might be focusing their efforts now or a week from next or when the autumn weather would give way to the full brunt of Ravkan winter. Every answer or theory offered by Genya or the others - Nadia and Marie ended up enraptured with the Sun Summoner's questions, too, on certain evenings - did not offer Alina the solace she hoped for.

Her questions were roundabout ways to figure out what was happening with Mal, after all. Her fingers would run along the crescent scar on her palm unbidden. A constant habit. For all the Small Science offered Grisha, it did not offer Alina answers to why her messages to her oldest friend were being ignored.

"You're certain that his regiment checked in when they were supposed to?" Alina found herself asking one evening when she and Genya had slipped behind the others on their walk back from the banya.

In the dull moonlight, Alina could ignore the soft look of pity that even Genya couldn't hide. It flashed on the young woman's face before she smoothed it away. "That's what was reported," Genya replied soothingly.

She looped an arm through Alina's when she didn't reply. "Who knows. Maybe the First Army has decided to ration paper and inks, so they dare not waste them on correspondences," Genya suggested. She had a wild air to her remark, something to lighten the sour mood that had fallen on Alina.

"So what are they using the paper for, then?"

"What else for? I've seen how you were skin and bones on the First Army's rations. They draw roast meats and candied yams and eat the pages for dinner when the bread's gone stale and the goat's dried up."

Alina let out a laugh, shaking her head. The worst part was that Genya was right. Not about the paper rationing but about her own stature. Even here in the Little Palace with regular meals and an honest to goodness feather mattress to sleep on, Alina was still skinny and tired easily. Part of her wondered if the hollows in her cheeks would ever fill or if the remnants of Keramzin would be on her forever.

"Well I've seen Mal's artistic skills before," Alina said, wiping at the corners of her eyes with the palm of her free hand. "He'd be better off trying to make rabbits out of rocks. He's managed to do that at least. Not so much drawing one."

Genya lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "Gravel might make a better appetizer than paper, but if they've got real vellum…" They both devolved into giggles at the ridiculousness of the conversation.

Marie and Nadia slowed to regroup with the others. "What's so funny?" Nadia asked, joining one arm through Genya's to build the link further. Alina would have been surprised that she hadn't picked Alina to cling to, but then again if she had to choose between draping over Genya or herself she would definitely pick Genya.

"Rations?" Alina tried to explain before falling to another fit of laughter instead.

It was better than sitting in her room sulking for the evening. Alina didn't mean to make it a habit, going out with one or another of the other girls to the lakeside or the banya. But just as surely as she would wind her way through the halls to the library in the early afternoon or leave Baghra's hut at the first touches of dusk, Alina had built a new piece to her schedule, one that wasn't solely focused on her fledgling Grisha talent.

Then she was passed a small white card along with a reminder from Genya to please open the door without making her wait too long in the morning, and Alina's carefully directed schedule was tossed out the window for another day. Alina could feel the corners of the card in her kefta pocket as she impatiently waited for Marie to finish making doe eyes at that Heartrender she was boldly courting. She regretted her promise to walk the girl back to her quarters, but Alina wasn't going to renege on her word. She also wasn't sure enough of herself to chance opening the card in front of anyone. Especially sweet, curious, loudmouthed Marie.

Finally, finally, Alina bid the young woman farewell and crossed the grounds to her room. As she closed her door behind her, Alina was awash with a sort of nervous giddiness along with not a small degree of self-reprimand. Why was she letting herself feel this way? It was going to be an interrogation, she had convinced herself. Nothing personal, nothing meaningful except for gleaning just how the Sun Summoner was failing to live up to expectations.

Alina flipped the card open. Even without the black stamped insignia at the bottom she wouldn't question who had penned it, if only because she could hear his voice in each carefully scribed line.

Miss Starkov,

Please excuse the late notice for this request which was intended to be delivered much earlier in the day. Tomorrow I would once again request that you join me for another riding lesson. Genya will be able to supply you with any attire you require, though I have no doubt that she has already taken it upon herself to keep your wardrobe well stocked.

Respectfully,

General Kirigan

Alina allowed herself to flounce over to her dressing table and placed the card atop the blotter she had there. Another letter to the First Army - oh, to Mal, she couldn't deny it wasn't for her other acquaintances in the regiment - was in draft stages. She had intended to finish it up tonight. But that had been before getting dragged out of the Little Palace for the evening and before learning that by tomorrow afternoon she might actually have something interesting to put into the letter.

The strange, giddy feeling from earlier twisted at the thought of actually telling Mal about the upcoming lesson. She hadn't told him about the first one, either. He… definitely wouldn't care about her getting private tutelage from the head of the Second Army. Or if he did, it wouldn't be in a positive fashion.

Alina's fingers curled the bottom of the unfinished letter and she sighed. More than likely she was giving Mal more credit - or less, depending on the perspective - than he deserved. Alina receiving a hint of favor from General Kirigan would only be upsetting if Mal gave two shakes about Alina's attention. And the past years had given him more than enough opportunities for that to come up. His focus had been on other topics, platonic and familiar, or on other girls in their respective units in decidedly less platonic fashion.

She stilled her fingers before they crushed the little curl of the paper into a crease that wouldn't come out. Her train of thought was too bitter and depressing for this time of night. Alina put the unfinished letter into the drawer, fishing around for a blank scrap to draw on instead. She wasn't going to let the years of effort Ana Kuya had put into her artistic talents fall by the wayside just because Alina was Grisha now. And sketching the sweeping, beautiful arcs that would eventually turn into the stag's crown that she saw in her dreams seemed like a better precursor for sleep.

Alina didn't need the Oprichnik to show her to the side door again, but she obliged the soldier nonetheless. She was surprised to find that she had beaten the general there. Either Genya had been quicker with her styling or Alina was getting better at waking up on time.

She hovered by the horses, debating whether or not she would wait for Kirigan. He had waited for her before getting on Harbinger last time. Alina allowed the black gelding a sniff of her hand before chancing a pat on his nose. He seemed indifferent at best, clearly not having been endeared to her during their previous sprint along the Vy. Knowing now how she must have been a poor rider for him, she didn't blame the horse. Though she did make a plan to see if Harbinger could be bought into liking her with some fresh produce. She couldn't be the only one whose favor was swayed by gifts.

Her horse this time was the same as the last, the brilliant white mare. She was much more receptive to Alina's pats, her velvety nose nudging shamelessly at Alina's sides as though she might have had carrots tucked into her kefta's pockets.

"What's her name, anyway?" Alina asked the servant who was holding the mare's reins for her. Alina suspected she was one of the stable hands. She wasn't in the crisp white linens like the servants - or that graced Genya's unusual kefta. Whether the girl did or did not know about the horse was a moot point. Arriving in the handful of breaths while Alina had turned from the doorway, General Kirigan appeared to provide the answer.

"She's named Zarya. Seems apt, no?"

"It seems convenient," Alina teased. She recognized enough Old Ravkan to translate the name. Daybreak, the horse was called. "Tell me she has been part of the Second Army stables for years already."

Kirigan tipped his head in concession. "The crown prince didn't mind freeing up space in his herd for another racehorse. The auctions in Caryeva are the only thing that Vasily Lantsov lives for, and the name did seem auspicious." He disparaged the crown prince as easily as he breathed. It wasn't the first time, either. Alina felt her eyebrows raise but she focused on settling onto Zarya's saddle instead.

"I haven't seen her out in the practice yard like some of the others," Alina commented. "Am I the only one so behind in riding skills that she's too placid for the other riders?" She chanced another joke since the last one had earned her that wry twist to the general's lips that she was… not fond of, but she certainly liked it better than the stern expression she had first seen in the pavilion in Kribirsk.

Kirigan had swept onto Harbinger's saddle and taken the reins from the stable hand. He led them from the yard in the familiar direction of the lake shore. "You haven't realized?" he answered her question with a question of his own.

"Realized what?"

"It would be quite rude for another rider to take a Grisha's horse." He looked expectantly at her, and Alina furrowed her brow in further confusion.

"But you said before there isn't really a distinction between Harbinger being your horse or the Second Army's," Alina said.

"The Second Army is as much mine as the blood in my veins. I've given everything for it," Kirigan explained. Alina was struck by the vehemence behind his words. Then his tone softened. "But the Sun Summoner's mare belongs to her, not the Second Army."

Alina flushed. Her grip on her reins tightened as her mouth went dry. "Oh."

The flustered feeling lingered through the start of the lesson until Alina allowed herself to be drawn completely into the challenge of mastering her posting. Regardless of spending weeks convincing herself that her horseback riding couldn't possibly be important in the grand scheme of things, Kirigan was clearly not going easy on her. He gave comments and critique on everything that Alina should have recalled from the previous lesson before pushing her further.

Even more frustrating was how Alina's weak constitution was rearing its ugly head. It hadn't been as much of an issue last time simply because they had started with the basics. This time, her cheeks were flushed from effort after a few circuits around the field. As much as Zarya was doing the hard work of carrying her around, Alina was putting in her own mountain of effort to do things the right way. She was past the first hump in learning a skill where she knew what she was supposed to be doing even as she struggled and failed to do so. It shouldn't have been so exhausting to stay perched on the saddle, and yet Alina was very much winded when she guided her mare to a stop.

Maybe she hadn't noticed it as much last time or maybe she hadn't tried so hard, but there was a stone in her gut when Kirigan called for them to pause sooner than the previous lesson. Stopping was great to give her a chance to catch her breath. Not so much for making her look good in the general's eyes.

She crouched by the lake's edge, arms wrapped tightly around her middle like it might help the stitch in her side from ripping her in half. She knew that the delicate braids Genya had plaited this morning were overshadowed by her flyaway hair. In short, she was definitely not the put together picture that Tailor had worked on. That bothered her only marginally less than her irritation at her own weakness.

"Is it too late to politely decline and just take my chances on not falling off the next time that I have to sprint across half the country on horseback?" Alina asked. She didn't dare look up at the man next to her as she laughed weakly at her own joke.

"I suppose there's always rope if you're truly worried about falling off. That might not paint as pretty a picture though," Kirigan answered.

"Is the Sun Summoner supposed to be pretty? I don't remember that being a requirement. I remember being scrounged from a skiff half-dead. You might want to see if there's a spare one knocking around Keramzin." Alina certainly didn't feel pretty right now. She felt like she might topple over, to be honest, even after letting the breeze wash over her.

"You assume we haven't already checked for one."

Alina looked up at Kirigan. "And?" she prompted.

He lifted a shoulder. "We'll have to make due with what we have. No spare Sun Summoners to be found. But I have every confidence in the current one's abilities."

The stitch in Alina's side relented enough where she was able to move back into a standing position. She accepted the reins that Kirgan had been holding for her. Zarya once again nosed at Alina's pockets. Alina had to push the mare's heavy head away and direct her back to the tall grass around them.

"What if your confidence is misplaced? What will you do if the Sun Summoner can't perform?" Alina asked the question with forced lightness, as though she was still talking about horseback training. Her eyes flicked up to Kirigan's before dancing back to Zarya.

She shouldn't have been opening this box. Especially after worrying about this topic for the past weeks. Maybe that was why she felt compelled to bring it up. Not much had changed in that time. She was still reliant on Baghra's amplification to manage more than a glimmer of sunshine. Her fighting continued to underwhelm Botkin. Even her assigned reading had fallen behind what with her new evening schedule with her friends.

"Miss Starkov," Kirigan intoned, his head tipping to one side, "do you remember what I asked you to do before your meeting with the King? And what I said a few weeks ago?"

"To trust you. To be patient." It was easier said than done. Alina twisted the reins between her fingers. She leaned against the mare's flank and forced herself to turn back to Kirigan. Three weeks should have showed more progress, surely. Alina said, "But what if I never figure out my powers? Even after months or years."

"I've seen your abilities first hand. You are Grisha. It's not a matter of figuring anything out. Your summoning is a part of you. Fundamental. Irrefutable."

Alina started to chew on her lower lip before she caught herself. Nothing about Alina ever felt irrefutable.

She was caught off guard by Kirigan taking her hand with his. No, not her hand, she realized belatedly. Her wrist was held in his hand, a looser hold than the vice grip that he'd had in the Grand Palace or the pavilion in Kribirsk. A sigh caught in her throat as she felt the rise of that warmth and certainty that came from something inside her.

Her light, her summoning reacting to the living amplifier holding her wrist - that's what it was. Alina could feel it now in a way that she never could on her own. She wanted to remain feeling bitter and frustrated, but with the warmth curling in her gut she could only lift her other hand and let it spill out between her fingertips in a loose collection.

Kirigan was looking at her light, too, but his attention eventually moved to Alina's face while she remained focused on the little bundle dancing over her palm. "I just don't know how to do this on my own," Alina admitted. She pulled her arm back from Kirigan until he dropped his grip. She was only able to keep the light there for a handful of heartbeats before it slipped from her control and faded. "And I'm supposed to do this on my own. Everyone else can. It's-"

"You're putting far too much pressure on yourself. And I dare say you have a fixation on being alone. You are not alone, Alina." His hand moved again, this time to actually thread his fingers between hers. Immediately the light bloomed again on her raised hand, eager to return to her beck and call.

"Control will come with time. With understanding. With patience," Kirigan insisted. His voice was low and compelling, resolute. "You are Grisha. You'll understand what that means with time, and then you won't be able to remember a time when you didn't."

Alina wanted to say something to counter the seriousness of Kirigan's insistence. Maybe remark that she hoped that realization wouldn't involve a nest of bees like Marie had. Instead she felt compelled simply to nod. Right here and now, with that unfathomable something yawning inside of her, Alina could almost believe him that she would be able to reach out and control it one day.