Chapter Six: The Loss of Singularity
The black kefta returned. Morning light of the sun encompassed the dark fabric with a simple white card atop that read, "Now that I wear your mark, it is your turn to wear my color."
Alina Starkov smiled at the script in front of her nose. Aleksander. Her heart pounded excitedly. Flips and flutters of her stomach filled her with sudden energy.
It fit liked she remembered. The black slimmed the expanded curves of her figure nicely. Her hands traveled the length of her sides and remarked on the way her waist dipped inside while her hips had more width. It was strange enough to be so filled in with actual clinging mass to her body, but now there were pleasant curves too? Little Palace had made so many dreams come true.
But at a cost.
Excitement dropped from her face once an image of Marie popped into view. Her dear friend, Marie. Dead.
No, no. It was more than that. Murdered. She was murdered. Marie died in place of Alina. That was something that would never leave the depths of her belly.
Someone died for her. Because Marie, above all, believed in Alina. The Sun Saint. The savior of Ravka.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. She blinked away the risen dampness of her eyes.
"Yes?" She forced a flowing singsong tone out from her lips.
"May I come in?"
It was him.
She rushed to the door and opened it. "Of course."
Aleksander's eyes lightened when the black kefta came into view. His lips twinged slight like he bit back a smile.
He entered the bed chamber silently. A wave of earthy cedar colegne behind him. It entered her head like a sudden shot to her memory. The cheeky grin of memory filled her mind. She closed the door behind him, but not without first catching glimpse of the red kefta posted outside the door. Ivan. His familiar scowl was a constant around the General. The only time it left was late a night once Aleksander retired.
Alina offered a too satisfied smirk at the arrogant Heartrender before she shut the door between them.
"What would you like to do today?" He asked. "I've cleared my schedule. Anything you desire."
She bit her bottom lip. "What about the King?"
"I've gotten it postponed."
That was a welcome relief. All night she tried to summon a reasoning that did not poorly reflect on the General or Little Palace. None of which were great. They all painted her in an unforgiving light, too.
The tension knotted in her belly released with a long exhale. "Thank the saints." Her hand went to her temple. "I feel rather displayed in front of them. Like they expect me to entertain them."
"They do," he answered. When her eyes flexed in curiosity, he continued, "All elites expect entertainment out of their encounters with anyone beneath them."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
"They are so far removed from reality that even when soldiers return from the horrors of war, they expect a certain flair for life that leaves the soul after so much death and suffering. They'll want you to recount every bloody tail of your conquests with a smile on your face. The stuff of nightmares with a chuckle." It read like a personal story than general warning. "You'll learn soon, Li. You'll learn to charm them in their blindness."
"Charm them? I don't want to be a charm. If I am to be a savior of the country, I'd like to know that it is a country worth saving." The irritation she felt toward his attitude about the royals was irrational and wild. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. How could he not hold them accountable? "I am doing a service for them. I'd at least like to hold an ounce of respect that they view it as seriously as I do."
"I hate to be a disappointment, but those people will never care about anything beyond their own luxuries."
"You mean to say that despite the sufferings of the people outside these walls, they will never want to help their own people? The people who put them into power, the people who are the only reason they have anything at all?"
Aleksander leaned his back against the door. The tip of his black boot raised in leisure. "I have lived to see many kings and queens rise and fall. Many proclaimed to be good and evil. One thing I have found: they are all the same. And they do not give one damn about the people that need them."
There was a quiet moment. Alina struggled to find the words to say.
The country needed a strong throne. The people suffered and divided, feared and frightened by their enemies along with the ravages of the Shadow Fold, all looked to their king and queen, the royal court, to save them. Unite them. End the divide in their country before it ruined all their lives.
Alina Starkov, the sun saint, was the one of ability to end that divide, but not all of it. Many wounds of the Fold still festered and decayed.
The Grand Palace was the salve to heal the rot that left Ravka torn and dying.
After many moments, Aleksander cleared his throat. "Let's discuss more pleasant things for the time being. One being the day. What would you like to do with it? I am at your service."
"Are you sure?" Her heart raced with excitement. Tension in her throat laced a smooth calmness in her voice, but it was not the reality beneath her flesh. "You are an important man." The dark of his eyes pooled softly, a shiny glisten to the corner of their wide view. Alina looked downward to her clasped hands to hide her emotions. "Many need your guidance and leadership, I mean."
"It has been a long three months." His shoes thudded against the ground as he rose to standing. "I desire a respite."
There was no doubt what she wanted to do. It'd been on her mind constantly, shrieking and screaming within her body, to be released.
Her voice trembled when the words left her throat. "Show me Marie."
There was immediate resistance against the request. His head shook before words left his mouth.
"Please," she pleaded gently. "I'd like to see her. Know what she went through."
"Li." It glided from his lips soft as a whisper, a plead of his own.
He did not want to.
"She died for me, Alek. She was a friend to me, a true friend, and she died in my place. I want to see her."
He sighed. The sharp edges of his face softened, a slip in his reserved facade. "Undying beasts, remember? There will be many mortals that perish, close ones, ones you hold dear."
His hand slipped to the metal knob. It glided away from the door frame.
"Harden your heart, Alina. Harden it to everything around you," he continued in his low, hollow tone. "Except me."
Alina stepped forward. "Will you take me to her?"
There was a definite pause as if he pondered the choice before him.
Could he not see how awful it was to bear the weight of survival? A person died wearing her face, believing it was her own body that laid lifelessly. The light faded from her eyes.
"Very well," he finally said. His arm held the door open for her to pass through. However, as she passed, his hand grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her close. "Consider what I have said, my Alina. Your soul is too precious to mourn the death of thousands. It is the price mortals pay, and it is our price to bear it."
Those words were meant to dwell and dwell they did.
Alina envisioned life as an undying beast, with only Alek to comfort her in endless journey. It was not awful. Aleksander was who she truly wanted, and yet, there was sadness at the thought of every person she ever met would die, their children too, all while she lived on. Her friends, Marie, the first of many to perish. It riddled her with guilt to have outlived the soul of the chipper Marie. None of it compared to the emotion she felt when she realized that one day Mal would die. Without her.
Her lips loosened a soft gasp in the quiet carriage as she thought of a wooden cross with his name carved as a marker to the spot of his eternal rest.
They were taught that souls were rewarded with eternal rest in an afterlife of all delights. Death was a blessing, one that all were given at the end of their dedicated life to God.
But they. Her eyes flashed upward to the dark presence across from her. They would never reap God's rewards.
Perhaps they were Devils. Devils together, weapons of the world, crafted of the land, forced to never leave.
Aleksander was silent on the way to the burial site. It was off palace grounds. Neutral and blessed. The dead of enemies and conquerors and kings and their usurpers all shared the same lands for their heavenly slumber.
Cold winds blew. It ravaged the walls of the carriage as their bodies were carried close and closer to the thickening air. The air, dense and heavy, filled her lungs with the smokey atmosphere. A dome of mist covered the place. Overgrown vegetation encompassed the area, but within, laid the eerie quiet of death.
Angelic statues of ancient grey stone greeted Aleksander and Alina through a narrow break in the wall of hedges tangled in leafy vines. Their faces locked in permanent heartbroken gaze at the tombs erected in honor of fallen souls.
The moment she stepped through, into the interior of the graveyard, a strange feeling overtook her.
A feeling that she would often roam fields of death in mourning.
Name after name of dead filled her mind. Rows upon rows, crosses and headstones, suffocating silence, the weight of sadness in her belly.
Alina found Aleksander's hand and gripped it tightly. It was the only thing that kept her grounded in such a wash of grief that she felt rising through her.
He would keep her grounded, never to stray too far from him. Of that, she trusted.
The warmth of his hand crept up her arm. It battled the frigid air that gave form to their exhaled breaths, billowing clouds of life mixed with the cool mist of death that hanged over the place. Light of the sun failed to puncture through with strength.
Aleksander pulled Alina through the lines of graves until they reached the one with a recognizable name.
"This is where you put her?" She asked, taken aback. "It is dreary and dreadful and small."
"It is more than what would be given to her otherwise. As a Grisha, she'd be left dead where she laid, or burned to nothing but ash." There was bitterness in his tone as he, too, looked down upon the grave of their fallen comrade. "Here she was treated with dignity, like the person she was."
Person or not. It was not good enough.
"Look at this place. It is forgotten and morose. No one will come see her if she lays here. Everyone will avoid this place. Dark and dormant. The air reeks of death. She deserved better than this."
His eyes turned on her. Their strong pull, needy and searching for hers. "Li…"
"No. No. She was important and lively. This place does not work. She needs flowers and sunshine and people to come see her, talk to her. She liked to talk. She can't be put in this forgotten space. No. Marie needs to be moved."
"Alina - ."
"I know what you're going to say, but it has to be done. Look at this place, Alek. Just look at it. It's horrid. It isn't the place for her. I'll find something better, more like her, to have as her resting place."
A hand reached out and touched her cheek. It raised her gaze to view his face. Tortured and twisted. The horrible guilt she felt in her heart lived on in his eyes. Marie's life swam in the dark treacherous pools of blackness in the unending abyss that was his eyes.
"Marie is dead, Alina. This is where she belongs."
There was such pointed resolution. An ending to the statement, the conclusion to a life that was filled with hope.
Tears bubbled up to the surface. They strayed from her control down to his fingers against her cheeks. Water interlaced with each finger as it dripped downward, ever downward, to the resting place of her friend.
"I should have left that night, gone to that stupid dinner," splintered from her sallow lips. She glanced down at the disturbed dirt.
Her friend deserved better.
"Don't wish that," Aleksander said suddenly. "You'd be below my feet, instead of her."
"It was my place."
"Your place is to lead Ravka. To save Ravka. Marie gave her life for that hope." He lifted her face until there was nowhere else to look but at each other's raw emotion. A rare glimpse of sun peeked through the clouds and ignited his face in warm light. "I wouldn't have been able to save you that night, had it happened to you instead of her. I wouldn't have…" He shook his head and looked away. There was a tremble through their bond. Grief and fear. It pulled at the cord that was her bond to him, ensuring she was there at the end of it. Anchored to him, still. "All hope would have been lost. All for you to save the life of a mortal. She was bound to death by her own birth."
"It should've been me."
Again, the weight of Marie's death hit her like a stone wall. Her face contorted as sobs hollowly echoed out her chest.
He pulled her tight against his chest. She was enveloped by the folds of his cloak to the untouched warmth of his body, buried and hidden below.
Aleksander held onto her as she cried and screamed out all the grief and guilt bottled within. He cradled her, supported her when her knees got weak, and kiss her forehead when her tears were finally spent.
The heat of his body perfumed his scent as a vapor into the air. Her lungs swelled with the smell that was Alek and it quieted the tension spread throughout.
He kept his hands clasped at the small of her back. She laced her arms around his torso and placed her cheek against his chest. The steady pulse drowned the erratic thumping of her own.
"You are worth much more than a single Grisha. Thousands more would lay down their lives if it meant to save yours. Do not forget your importance, my Alina. Sol Koroleva." A small exhale greeted her forehead as his lips gently pressed against her again. "I'd burn the world down just to keep you warm."
"I know," she murmured.
He instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her. "I'll do better in protecting you. There will never be another Marie."
Alina looked up into his eyes. "I know."
They stood there, wrapped together in each other's embrace and warmth, as they paid respects to Alina's friend and General Kirigan's soldier.
The time came. A question Alina could no longer avoid.
"How?" Her voice softly whispered.
Aleksander's breath stopped.
"How?" She repeated. "How did she die?"
"Her throat…" he glanced down with indecision, "was slashed."
Her throat tightened.
"Oh."
The grave marked with a wooden cross stood unabashed; her death was worse than what was simply reflected in her resting place. No tribute to the pain she endured or how she sacrificed herself for another.
"Why?" The unnerving calm of the graveyard was interrupted with the slight movement of wind. It blew against her dry lips. "Why did someone want to slit my throat when I am the one to destroy the Fold?"
"You know why."
"Because I am Grisha."
His eyebrow flexed. "No. That is second. First is that their power derives from the continuation of the Fold. Without it, all hopes of their power are gone."
The mention of the Fold, the continuation of it, Baghra's warning, all flashed to mind.
Aleksander felt the shift within his grasp. Her body went rigid and pulled from him.
"Was it y-you?"
"Of course not," he growled. He refused to abandon his hold on her. Latched in place, his hands stayed at the small of her back with physical strength she could not fight against. "I'd never do anything to harm you."
The look of doubt crossed her face, still, much to his frustration.
"Do you truly distrust me so?"
She swallowed. "You made the Fold for a reason."
"I have scoured the country for eons to find a way to destroy it," he said coolly. The temperature of their bodies pressed together dropped drastically. Ice crept through her veins. "Nothing can destroy it. I only draw more darkness when I enter. Believe me, I've tried. A Shadow Summoner cannot erase Shadow. Only light, only a Sun Saint, may do so."
He pressed his forehead against hers. "Will my lifetime with you be cursed with reminders of my past? It pains me to feel the withdraw of your light. And the wariness in your eyes."
The Darkling. The Black Heretic. The Devil.
Aleksander, a man she loved, a demon of the world.
She shook her head. "We are both cursed to be the sun and the moon. Where one does not shine, the other does. For my fear of darkness, you labor in it. The harshness of light on your tired shadows, I bear the strength you cannot. Both, we must do our works as they come to us." Breath escaped her chest, finally, in one burned exhale. "I must accept the nature of the dark as you must accept the nature of my light."
At the base of Marie's grave, Alina allowed herself to embrace the balance of the world.
"My light demands the end of the Fold," she said. "As your darkness should demand the throne."
The motions of his body stopped. The slight rocking of her body against his, ceased.
A strong tone came from his mouth. "What?"
"You want to rule," she explained, "and I think you should."
The hold at the small of her back dropped away. Instead, his hands gripped the sides of her face. Tilted high, her face was forced to look at his. It was full of question. The furrow of his brow, intensity leeched to his pupils, taut flesh against his cheeks.
"What are you saying?" He spoke through a clenched jaw.
"I want you to be king over that Pyotr if it means Ravka and Grisha will be saved," she said. "I'll put you on that throne myself."
His eyes glanced down to her lips. Swollen and glistened with salvia. He met her gaze again, question laced through their searching stare.
She obliged his want. Their lips collided at the point of the release of their emotions. The twisting pull through their bond invoked the souls to leave their bonds and entangle. Tighter and tighter, Aleksander's soul twisted within hers.
"You," he panted. His breaths, a blissful heat through her chilled face. "continue to surprise me at every turn."
What she wouldn't give to see that smile always etched into his face.
Alina jumped into his unsuspecting arms, placed her lips against his, and kissed the breath from their lungs until nothing pain gripped their chests. How she loved the way his hands grasped at her, holding every inch of her with want and need. The dark of his eye swallowed her whole. Desire at the tip of her tongue. It tickled wants sank in the depths of her core.
A joyous swirling in the base of her belly awakened a new conscious thought.
"Alek…" she breathed.
The time was as right as any. There was nothing to keep them apart. Not even unexpected news as it was.
"Yes, my Alina?"
But the way he looked at her with such adoration, it filled her with regret to ruin such a pleasant moment.
"I love you," left her lips instead.
"You never cease with your surprises." The smile did not falter. His nose drifted closer to hers and rubbed gently in a soft display before he kissed her gently. "And I worship you. With all my heart, I will be your moon and devil and balance."
There were many urgent kisses exchanged before the question of their location soured the lust. They walked hand in hand back to the carriage. Ivan waited. His hands were clasped in front of him.
She frowned at the sight of him, waiting.
"I miss Feydor. Where did you send him away to?"
He grinned. "Do you not care for Ivan?"
"No. I don't."
"There is no better Heartrender than him," he said. "Some day you will be thankful for his service."
"I'd be thankful for a shred of pleasantness. Of which there is none."
"He does not have to be personable, Li. He is there to protect us." He tipped his head to the Heartrender. Ivan stepped back as they neared. Aleksander leaned nearer to Alina's ear and whispered, "He is one who would lay down his life for yours, Alina. You don't have to like him, but, it would be a favor to me that you try to."
Alina was given first entrance into the carriage. Aleksander followed. Instead of his usual position across from her, he took the seat alongside. Their thighs touched, so close.
The entire ride back to Little Palace she was forced to watch Ivan bounce in the seat across from them.
He reported things to his commanding officer with dutiful sternness. The man actually paused, and glanced to Alina in distrust, before Aleksander granted him continuation.
It insulted the very strong ego Alina had. At Aleksander's side.
"I'm afraid our day will have to be cut short." Aleksander sighed.
Alina blinked. She'd been daydreaming, suddenly exhausted.
She nodded. "I understand. I'm feeling weirdly tired. Perhaps I'll retire for a bit."
Concern washed over Aleksander's attentions.
"Are you feeling ill?" He touched her cheeks. "Ivan - ."
"No, please." She blurted. Ivan's hands were close to their position to scan her under his power. Her arms cinched tighter against her abdomen. "I only need a nap. That's all."
Ivan appraised her, again, with distrust. She was lucky that the General trusted her better. He agreed.
"I'll return in time for supper," he instructed. "In the meantime, I'll send a tray for you. You still look so slender from your flee to the wilds."
That was exactly what they did when they parted at the palace doors. She went for her bedchamber while Ivan and Aleksander headed toward the war room to discuss whatever affairs that needed Aleksander's attention. A tray was brought not long after Alina had removed her kefta in favor of looser fitting clothing.
When she awoke, darkness looked in on her from glass windows. A night sky absent of stars.
Her breasts ached after having slept on them. She rubbed them gently. It was getting old, now having notable breasts and having them tender and sore so often along with a stomach that demanded food while it rejected that same food with violent consequences.
Mal used to massage her stomach to ease the hollow sloshing of bile and discomfort on the run.
Saints! Mal. Where was he?
Alina threw on a dressing gown and abandoned her bed chamber. How had she allowed herself to be so distracted? Mal. Her friend. Any neglect that he endured was of her own fault.
Little Palace was rather sparse. The halls were empty and quiet. Her slippers tapped against the marble floors as an annoying accompaniment to her motions. The edge of her long dressing gown, fully silken and a beautiful magenta, slid on the floor behind her. It was the most dressed down she ever was within the Palace. The near undergarment dress had her moving very cautiously so that no one would see her. Aleksander would dislike the other Grisha to see her so casually dressed.
A warm flowing scent of food carried throughout. Tangled and lost, the sharp satisfying allure of cooked meat filled the Palace.
Aleksander was intent of separating Mal and Alina. His insecurity in their bond was certain of that.
The palace was too large for her to search all night.
All she knew to do was go down. There were cellars and storage rooms beneath the palace where so many things were stashed to prevent their discovery. The easiest place to hide the location of Mal.
As long as she was too consumed with Aleksander's attention, the chance to remember Mal was low. The Little Palace was never a place for Mal or his memory. If he was out of sight, out of earshot, it was easy to forget him.
It was a small blessing to know that he was not abused during her inattention. Aleksander wouldn't dare.
Of course, he would not release him either. He was too insecure to allow Mal to roam freely. The chance that they might disappear again was still too possible in his mind.
She searched below the palace through cellars, storage rooms, and treasures hidden amongst the mess. The lack of noise haunted her heart. She pace sped as she walked through the aisles.
If Mal was dead, she'd raze Little Palace to nothing but dirt.
"Shhh."
It echoed through the serenity of the wine barrels and crates of vegetables. Shuffles, subtle and soft, followed.
Alina raced to follow the sounds.
She wished she hadn't.
Mal was there. He, on the ground, a blue kefta around the lower of his abdomen. Zoya on top of him.
She gasped and turned away. "Saints! Mal!"
The astonishment rang through in his tone. "A-Alina. What are you doing here?" More shuffling. "Stop. STOP. Get off, get off."
"That's what I'm trying to do," Zoya snipped. Her boots hit the stone floor with frustration at having been interrupted.
Alina kept her back turned, bright red with embarrassment and a little anger. Of all the Grisha he had to pick, why was it her? Why Zoya?
Mal's hand touched her shoulder. "How are you? Alright?"
His gaze dropped to her stomach for a split second.
"I'd say she came for her own ride." The Squaller smirked. Her eyes followed the length of the dressing gown. Alina gripped the silk close to her body. An immediate blush consumed her face.
Mal, however, did not concern himself with her dress. The First Army walked around in less than a dressing gown without the slightest acknowledgement. Close quarters with everyone smashed together left little privacy.
It eased Alina's discomfort enough to drop the taut hold on the gown.
"Not half as alright as you," she replied with a sneer in the general direction of the Squaller. "Tumbling take your mind off being a prisoner?"
"Is that what you were hoping?" Zoya wore a satisfied smirk.
Her hair, all loose from its pins. The shiny smear of Mal's salvia around her lips and cheeks. The blue kefta was only half buttoned. The bottom half, of course, open for easier access.
"No," Alina said. Her arms laced tightly across her chest. "I came to relieve him of his imprisonment."
Mal's face lightened. "Really?"
"Bullshit."
"I have," Alina confirmed with a sickly sweet smile.
"No chance the General approved it," Zoya countered.
"So the General approved of this liaison, too?"
The Squaller silenced. Fraternization with the First Army, especially a prisoner, was against Second Army code. It came with heavy repercussions.
It did not matter to Mal. He was ready to leave.
He looked at her. "What's your plan?"
"I have to tell the infamous Mal how to escape?" She raised a playful brow despite the disgust she felt with her friend. "You've lost your touch."
A hard look came from Zoya as she stepped forward. Alina paid it no mind. It was turned to Mal.
"It doesn't matter. You can't leave. The General will kill you. No Sun Saint will be able to save you then," she stated as if it was written scripture. Now, venom filled her mouth as she turned to Alina. "The limit of your stupidity knows no bounds. You'll get him killed."
Mal frowned. "I can take care of myself."
"I'll get him free. Not chained up like some sex toy."
"Spoken like a sex toy herself. Tell me," a wicked grin pulled her face, "how is the General in bed? He was phenomenal with me, but sometimes, it's all just chemistry."
Something overtook Alina. A power at the base of her palm.
A ball of light thrust from the base of her palm and burst against her abdomen. Flickers of light staggered her backward unable to see. Zoya yelped as she toppled backward. Hands covered her eyes with a deep groan.
"Whoa, whoa. Alina!" Mal exclaimed. He stepped toward Zoya. "What the hell?"
It took only a moment for Zoya to form a counterattack of her own. Air as powerful as a tornado encompassed Alina and swept her off her feet. Faster and faster, the tornado spun.
"Stop it, Zo! You're going to hurt her!"
Alina created a sphere of light around her that protected her from the furious winds. She dropped to her feet.
Mal stood between the pair. His hands raised as high as they were able with the shackles in between them.
Zoya and Aleksander?
No. No. She couldn't have every man in her life!
"It wasn't as good, was it?" Zoya taunted. The depth of her laugh repeated in Alina's ears. "When will you half-breeds face the facts that you are just for the conquest?"
Alina felt fury biting its way higher and higher. The more Mal tried to calm them, the more bottled at the back of her throat.
"A conquest who wears his color."
Rage, too, filled the Squaller. A surge of energy went to her open palms and thrust forward with the might of the world behind them.
It meant to blow Alina back to the wall with the weight of ten houses on her back, but a sharp whip of black reached between them and stopped the blow before it ruptured against her body.
The trio gasped.
General Kirigan stood center floor, with his Heartrender at his side. Ivan's hands were crossed.
"One move and Ivan will drop you," the General's voice boomed through the emptiness of the cellars.
Mal put his chained hands up. Although it enraged her to do so, Zoya lowered her palms to her sides.
Alina was last to release herself. So much anger and rage at Zoya. Now that he was there, she felt it against him too. A betrayal of the worst kind. Zoya? ZOYA? He slept with her?
All the times he was left alone in his war room, supposedly working. Working above a Squaller apparently!
Three months she was absent from the Palace. What happened then? Were they all over the dining room table like he wanted to be with her?
The hollow of her stomach churned as the three of them were appraised by their superior.
"We're not resisting," Mal spoke. "Put your hands down."
"Where's the fourth?" Ivan barked.
Mal shook his head. "What?"
"The fourth," the General stated calmly. His eyes glanced over at Alina and pulled at the strength of their bond. Confusion leapt up through her. All at once, she felt the confusion and disbelief that he felt with her. "A fourth heartbeat was detected within this room. Now where are they?"
Alina shivered. Three bodies. Four pulses.
She looked to Mal with fright. He reflected a look of concern.
"There is no one else," Zoya spat. "Just us."
"Just your whore," Alina snarled in the Squallers direction. The burning glare of Zoya's was nothing compared to the fires of anger that sat at the back of her hands. Light peeked its need to emerge. But – she sighed – it was wrong to attack. She swallowed the biting fury to the pit of her stomach for another time. "And Mal."
Ivan stepped closer. His hands ready to attack.
"Put your hands down!" Mal cried out.
Aleksander did not respond well to the challenge. "You think you are in charge here, tracker?"
"Four heartbeats came from this room," the Heartrender said through gritted teeth. "Expose them."
"There is no one!" Mal shouted louder.
The General poised high. His chin level with the ground and glared down at the insignificant solider at his mercy. "Do not dare deceive me, Malyen Oretsev. My joy comes from watching those writhe beneath my power. It would bring me great joy to extract the truth from your mouth before it collapsed."
Ivan swiped around the room. His power at the back of his hand, ready to discover the fourth, buried within her body.
Alina's fingers trembled violently against her thighs. She tucked them out of sight with the hopes to avoid their suspicion.
She pleaded with the saints to award her time.
Small bits of courage seeped through. She raised her eyes to Ivan's. His face flexed with bewilderment behind his crossed palms. They were pointed at her. Scowl, shockingly, gone.
"All I know is that none of us are armed and only a coward holds a weapon on an unarmed person," Mal barked back in defiance.
Alina remained locked in stare with Ivan. For once, the man faltered. His instant loyalty to the General waivered as he watched Alina tremble with monumental news wrapped within her womb.
"A coward," Aleksander replied with a hiss.
His patience dwindled for Mal.
Mal was on the offense. He would not back down no matter how ominous the General was.
"Sir," Ivan said.
His voice caught Mal's attention. It encouraged him louder.
"Lower your stupid magic hands if you aren't a coward." He pointed at the man in the red kefta. "Have him lower his if you aren't afraid."
"Mal, don't," Alina muttered.
One glance in her direction was enough to stir up the possessive edge in Aleksander. He stepped forward as a dark wave, shadows behind his back like an army meant to assist him.
"Sir, there are four heartbeats here," Ivan confirmed loudly.
Fuck.
Aleksander whipped his head back around. "Say again?"
Zoya casted Alina a harsh glare worthy of naming it a "death glare". Mal, too, looked at Alina. He wanted her to say something.
He mouthed behind the General's turned back. "Tell him."
The story that Mal wanted her to weave – a fabrication of another person impregnating her – was not one she wanted to participate in. It was not the woman she was or wished to be seen as.
She shook her head once. No. The damage it would do to Aleksander and the severed trust would be devastating to the future of Ravka, and them.
"Four heartbeats." Ivan lowered his hands.
Aleksander appraised the stance a moment, before he turned to the only other woman in the cellar. "What's this? An extra heartbeat, I hear." He enjoyed the torment on his tongue too much to restrain himself. "Miss Nazyalensky, up to no good again?"
It was a lie to deny the shock on Zoya's face. The blood drained away from her caramel features in an instant.
There was history between them. Her face read betrayal. The emotion of total despair and anger through her paled complexion like a dagger through the ribs.
She loved the General…and he used her.
"You know a trip with Baghra would have that sorted, don't you? Is there a reason you linger?"
The awful malice in his voice was primal. Mal glared at Alina. His body was disgusted. The movement of his mouth only spoke to the strength it took him to remain silent. She shook her head again. Tempting the General's anger was not the right move.
The General sniffed in distaste. "A First Army solider. That's who you choose?"
"Sir," Ivan said again.
His voice halted time. The room ceased of breath. The Heartrender needed not to continue; all eyes turned to Alina.
Aleksander blinked away his disbelief. "Miss Starkov?"
Mal jumped forward and separated the pair. His chin raised high in defiance. "It's mine. It's mine, not yours."
A surge jolted through their bond. Shadows grew all around the room. Aleksander's anger took shape in the long twitching shadows at his back. Near release, the shadows bayed at the last bit of restraint Aleksander had like hounds on the trail of blood.
She searched through the thick cords that bonded Aleksander to her. Her power wove in and out of his darkness until they reached his center. A wave of calm surpassed through it. He received every wave of loyalty and commitment she had built inside her.
She prayed it was enough to chase the murder in his eyes away.
"Bullshit," Zoya spat.
The tension of the room dropped low enough that the threat of Mal's safety was momentarily forgotten.
"What?" Everyone said unison.
"He's never gotten close to her pussy," Zoya growled. Her hands buttoned the remaining ones of her kefta. "Wouldn't carry on with me, if he did."
Mal stood there, baffled at what to say next.
It left Alina alone in Aleksander's focus. She looked at the ground, unable to say a word. The pull of his eyes urged her to meet his, and it took all she had to refrain from locking their eyes together in an endless stare.
"Ivan," his voice said above her. He was close. One hand swooped closer, pushing her back to the exit of the cellars. "Secure the prisoner back in place and escort Miss Nazyalensky back to her chambers. I'll deal with her later."
The presence of his darkness pushed her farther and farther away. The force of his hand at her back, sharp and without the slightest bit of tenderness for her.
"Alina!" Mal called after her.
There was a time to beg for her friend's release. It was soon coming. But in the moment, she felt that the silence fit them best.
A/N: I try not to promote myself too much on my fanfiction profile since this is a side project that I use to cope with things, not really to gain a following. But I recently started a TikTok account about my life, if anyone is interested in getting to know me more. I often wonder if there is a want from readers to connect more with the writers that they follow. Please let me know if there is. I'd be willing to start an Instagram about my writing and other things if there was an interest. Please let me know :-) TikTok & Insta handle: onbothfronts