Chapter Five: I'm still fixing all the cracks
Alina

I slept well for the first time in recent memory that night and in the morning, Genya clapped gleefully when I demolished the entire breakfast tray.

"Finally an appetite!" she crowed happily. "I'm afraid to press my luck, but do you want me to call for more tea?"

"And the almond biscuits?" I suggested.

Genya felt my forehead. "You don't feel feverish…"

"I feel… better," I told her honestly. "Better than I have been, anyway."

"Good," she replied. "Now pick a dress for me to reject while I ring for tea."

"Brat," I called after her as she flounced to fetch a maid. When I rummaged through the closet, my fingers closed around a black wool skirt. The fabric bunched in my fist as I thought of him. I'd been the only one allowed to wear black other than the Darkling. Whether it was his choice or that of the Fabrikators and seamstresses that supplied our clothing, a few black pieces had appeared in the wardrobe. Not that I had worn any of them, other than the silky black kefta I'd worn for the winter fete. Genya had pleaded but I'd always said no.

I shoved the black wool away. No black. Instead, I reached for a simple white linen blouse and a sarafan in a drab shade of olive that reminded me of my uniform in the First Army. Genya returned and all but shoved me into the chair at the dressing table, grabbing for the golden hairbrush that had been a gift from some noblewoman currying favor with the Sun Summoner.

"You get to decide what happens next, you know," Genya said, her tone turning serious.

"You are going to do whatever you want with my hair and you know it," I reminded her.

"With your life," she clarified, nimble fingers working their way through the tangles in my hair. "I know what it is to make that choice, Alina. After what the Darkling did to me, I certainly wallowed in self-pity for a bit."

"More than a bit, I would say," I protested.

She pulled a lock of my hair just enough to hurt. "A bit," she insisted. "But then I decided that I wasn't going to let him defeat me. I've made a dozen eye patches that match every fabulous outfit, I decided I can be more than a glorified cosmetics artist, and moved on. It certainly doesn't hurt that David loves me as I am."

"Even if you are a brat," I jested.

"I believe you are the bratty one here," she told me. "I, however, am a paragon of beauty and grace."

"You certainly are," I agreed. "You've put up with me and my… everything."

"That's how friendship works," she said. "That's how love works, you idiot. You love someone for who they are-everything they are. You may not love everything about them, but you do your best to deal with the bad parts and love the whole of them anyway. If I can still be your friend when you were 'Sankta Alina,' I can love you through this, especially when you forgave me for all my lies and failings."

I reached up and squeezed her hand. "Thank you."

"Of course," she said. "Now, because you love me, you're going to let me take care of those dark circles."

"They're not as bad today," I protested. "I actually slept last night."

"That's probably why you had an appetite today," she observed. Her fingers worked deftly through my hair, weaving the strands into braids. "Have you thought about what comes next?"

"The library, I think," I told her, deflecting the question.

"You know that isn't what I mean, you wretched thing," she admonished.

"I don't know what comes next," I confessed. "When I first came to the Little Palace, all I wanted was to be normal again, but now that I've had that power, that I've been Grisha and had it taken away, I want it back."

"Of course you do," she replied. "You've tasted power. It's natural you want it back. The trouble is, Grisha power isn't something you can get back. You will have to forge a new path."

I probably should have told her then that my power wasn't wholly gone, that contact with the once-Darkling brought it back. It would have been the right thing to do, and she might have even understood why I was drawn to this man that had hurt me and those I loved over and over again.

But I didn't. I let Genya suggest progressively more outlandish careers from scholar to champagne taster to pirate as she wove my hair into a crown of braids atop my head. She helped me into my corset and then the blouse and sarafan I had pulled from the wardrobe. With a kiss on the top of my head, she was off.

I did go to the library first. While I wasn't going to be rejoining the First Army at any point, I hadn't hated making maps, so perhaps a career as a cartographer wouldn't be the worst idea. I looked through a few atlases and flipped through a book on map drawing. I even practiced my skills by making a map of the Little Palace, neatly labeling the rooms of the ground floor. When I came to the set of rooms that made up the Darkling's chambers, I paused. My fingers itched, remembering how it felt to call the light again, the wonder I felt under the starry dome we'd created together.

The feel of his hands in mine.

I stuffed the thoughts away, carefully labeling the War Room, common areas, and guard room. I would not think of him; I would not go to him. I determinedly marked the sitting room and library with only a brief pause. When I came to the bedroom and bathroom with its glossy black and copper tile, however, I paused again. It wouldn't hurt to feel that power again. Maybe, if I just practiced enough with him, I'd be able to bring the light on my own, just like when I'd first come to the Little Palace.

I left my unfinished map on a drafting table in the library, hurrying across the courtyard to the Grand Palace and making my way down to the cells. He was sitting at the table this time, the elegant ease he'd displayed so many times before as he lounged in the chair.

"I knew you'd come," he said without looking up.

"Am I that predictable?" I asked.

He looked up then, considering. "Not necessarily," he told me before turning back to his book. "But if you were the one in the cage and I were free, I would do the same thing."

I didn't like the implication that we were so similar. "If our positions were reversed, you'd find some way to manipulate me or trap me into being a power source at your beck and call. Oh, wait… I believe you've already done that."

"There is no one else like us," he said mildly, turning the page of his book.

I huffed. "I would say there are thousands of people like us at this point. That blazing power we had is gone."

"Not entirely," he reminded me.

I flexed my fingers, itching to find out if this connection between us was still some fluke.

"Alina dear, I know your upbringing was not the most conventional, but surely you know it's rude to stare," he mocked, eyes steadily on the book.

"And it's also rude to use people for their power," I retorted. "And to ignore visitors when they've come all the way down to the dungeons to see you."

"Of course, how rude of me," he said with false pleasantness, placing a bookmark in the slim black volume. His quartz gray eyes fixed on mine. "What brings you to my humble abode on this lovely… morning? Afternoon? One loses track of time when they live in a dungeon with no windows."

"It's afternoon," I told him crisply. "About two, but I expect you know that since they bring your midday tray at noon. And you know exactly why I'm here."

"Touche," he said. "And I do know exactly why you're here." He stood, moving toward the bars but stopping just past where I would have been able to reach in and touch him. "But I'll need you to say the words."

I stared into his eyes. To my surprise, they held no malice. Instead, there was a swirl of emotions: understanding, hunger for power, and… something else I couldn't put a name to. I stepped closer, reaching through the bars with my right hand. He hovered just out of reach.

"Say it, Alina," he murmured. It sounded like he was whispering in my ear even though he was feet away.

"I'm here for my power," I whispered. "I'm here for you."

In an instant, he stepped forward, clasping his hand around my wrist, his finger right on my pulse point. Warmth and surety exploded in my mind a moment before the light poured from my fingers. I sighed, wrapping my own fingers around his wrist. His pulse jumped under my fingers, and then cool shadows were wrapping around us. For a full minute, we were just breathing it in, staring into each other's eyes.

I raised my left hand, flexing the fingers experimentally. I was right-handed, and summoning with my left had never come naturally. Kirigan nodded encouragingly at me. With a deep breath, I called the light to my left hand. I struggled for a moment, but then I managed to make a small glowing orb. With concentration, I managed to grow the ball as I had the day before, tossing it up into the air as a child might. I watched as shadows grew around my ball as it fell back to my hand. The light dissolved with a wave of my wrist, and the shadow melted and pooled at our feet. I pulled back the light from my right hand and used my left to send light arcing toward the ceiling. After a moment, he sent a stream of shadow swirling around the arc. I tried to make the intense, searing light I'd made dozens of times before but found that I couldn't quite.

We were both breathing hard when we pulled it back, pulses thrumming.

"You are here for that," he told me. "I understand." He dropped my hand, stepping back to the table. I knew when I was being dismissed. While part of me rankled that he would brush me off in this way, I didn't particularly want to talk to him about what had transpired. Turning on my heel, I swept up the stairs.

Every day, I visited him, and we used our power together.

Every day, I grew a bit stronger. I slept better, my color improved, my appetite returned, and I finally managed to put on some weight, my curves returning bit by tiny bit. Genya spent less time wiping away the smudges beneath my eyes and more time suggesting careers I could pursue. Queen was her first choice, of course, but she wasn't opposed to me returning to my roots in cartography or becoming an acrobat or a gardener. I pacified her with nods of agreement and promises to investigate some of her less insane ideas. I'd actually had a nice chat with the gardener about which breeds of roses did best in the south of Ravka.

We were summoning light and shadows in the dungeon when I first tried. I had sent a spiral of light through Kirigan's shadowy dome, arcing it around us in a wide circle before pulling it close like a lasso until the light warmed our skin. I was feeling confident and slightly giddy when I released his hand.

Immediately the shadows and light dissolved. I tried drawing down into that well of power I'd felt just moments before, but it was gone.

"It won't work," he told me when I let out a frustrated groan. "I've tried over and over again when you aren't here. I assume you've done the same."

"I have," I admitted. "I just thought…"

"You thought it was like when you struggled with Baghra," he finished. "It is of no use. Our power is inextricably bound together. What we have is the remnant from the binding of Morozova's collar." His voice had turned bitter.

"So that's it, then?" I asked with a derisive laugh. "I can summon the sun again, but only if I'm touching you? You? The same person who tried to kill me a dozen times."

"I never tried to kill you," he objected. "You are too important for that."

"Ah yes, my power," I scoffed. "I'd nearly forgotten. You couldn't try to kill me because that would mean losing the ability to weaponize the Fold and take over Ravka. My mistake."

"You will never understand," he said bitterly, turning his back on me and stretching out on his bed lazily.

"And yet you claim we're so alike," I reminded him hotly.

"I forget how young you are," he said, staring at the ceiling. "There are so many things you don't understand about the world."

"You could try explaining it to me instead of assuming I'm too stupid to understand," I shot back.

He shook his head. "I have never thought you were stupid. Ignorant, perhaps at times. Naive, most certainly."

"I hate you," I told him, but there was no venom in my voice.

"I did tell you to make me your villain once," he offered. "It is natural to hate a villain."

I huffed, sinking to the floor and leaning against the wall. "I don't hate you," I confessed.

He snorted. "It's about time you realized this."

I scrubbed my face with my hands. "What am I supposed to do?"

"It's possible the right amplifier could be enough to let us summon independently," he mused. "Morozova's amplifiers aren't the only ones, as you know."

"Ah yes, Ivan's bear," I remembered. "I guess I'll just head out into the woods and find a magical bear, and then it will all be perfect."

He laughed at this, a genuine one. I couldn't help but join him. The very idea that I would go bear hunting was laughable. Training had improved my ability to aim with both rifle and bow, but I still was not an excellent marksman.

"Perhaps not a bear," he said at last. "Though I imagine Nikolai would fetch you one if you just snapped your fingers and asked."

I rolled my eyes.

He stood up, crossing to the table. Picking up the slim black volume he'd been reading earlier, he passed it to me through the bars.

"Mify o F'yerdane?" I asked, reading the title. I looked up at him.

"Just read it," he urged.

I nodded, taking my leave.

I read the book that night, learning the stories of our northern enemies. For all that Fjerda despised Grisha, their stories certainly included plenty of mythical creatures. I read of trolls and sea serpents and monsters that crept in the dark. It was exciting but not life-changing. Then, when I was tucked in bed reading by the light of a lantern, I came across something that stopped me in my tracks. I read of the Four Stags of Hringsa.

The chapter title is from "Arcade" by Duncan Laurence.

The ending of this chapter has a scant nod to "King of Scars." I refuse to acknowledge that duology exists for the most part, to be honest, BUT I'll steal my mythology where I can. Fjerdan culture borrows heavily from Scandinavian culture. The tree of life is referred to as "Yggdrasil" in Scandinavian mythology but Bardugo refers to it as "Hringsa" in KoS so I'll borrow that terminology.