A/N: Lets play my favourite game: spot the Taylor Swift reference(s)
Chapter 6: Threading in Gold
Alina didn't see The Darkling the next day, but heard word that he and a team had left Os Alta and were headed towards Tsemna to survey a crossing near the Obol River.
Genya had warned her to lay low, and try to avoid the north side of the palace grounds, which happened to be the side the royal family lived in.
"The king insisted that you go, but The General wouldn't concede." her friend had told her, combing through her dark hair hurriedly. She wasn't even supposed to be there, but she had risked an escapade to warn her friend, bringing along a few pastries to sweeten the sour news. It wasn't working, but Alina wouldn't deny herself sweets. "He said you weren't ready for a crossing, even if it was through one of the shortest points of The Fold. His highness doesn't really understand Grisha but luckily for you, he's still quite terrified of General Kirigan."
Alina didn't doubt it, even if she couldn't see herself being afraid of him. Maybe it was due to all the protection he provided for everyone at the Little Palace. Cold and unreachable as he may seem, there was no denying that grisha lived comfortably and sound in all senses there, and had need for anything.
Genya also took notice of the dark marks on her neck and stared at Alina through their reflection in the mirror with a look akin to terror.
"What did you do?" the Tailor asked.
"Nothing." Alina shrugged, then cleared her throat awkwardly. "Could you…please… not touch them?" she pointed at the general area.
Genya's hands were already poised, ready to clear her skin. Trembling, slowly, she moved them away from Alina's neck. The Summoner watched each of them, the only reminder that what had transpired in the gardens hadn't been a dream of hers.
"Who was it?" her friend asked, her voice as tense as a fiddle's string that had been tightened almost to its breaking point.
"No one." she whispered.
It didn't matter that she lied in that moment. Genya was far from stupid, and Alina rarely had a thought she didn't express to her friend.
The redhead's pale hands came to rest on her shoulders, an iron grip.
"Ali," she began, her semblance obscure. "Be careful around him."
"He's the one in charge of protecting grisha." she argued weakly.
"I just, …" Genya sighed. "You know my story-"
"It wasn't like that! I started it." she hurried to defend The Darkling.
"That is even worse." she whispered hurriedly, almost to herself. Alina turned in her chair, watching as Genya played nervously with her hands. The sight almost alarmed the Summoner.
"Gen, don't worry. It was a one-time thing, really." she tried to reassure her friend, even if her heart sunk and felt a cold chill upon hearing the words abandoning her lips. "He just left, right after, and we didn't even go… far, …at all." her voice dimmed at the last part, embarrassed, both for having wanted him to as he pleased with her right there in the open and for not having gone through with it.
"Alina-"
"Don't worry about me, truly." she took her hands and gave them a warm, strong squeeze and a forced smile.
"Promise me you will be careful." she asked, taking a step closer and kneeling so they could see eye to eye. "I want the best for you, and I think you're finally starting to blossom," she ran a gentle finger across the side of her friend's face. "But you need to be careful with powerful men."
"There is no one else like us, Alina." he had said. Shouldn't that mean that they were equals? Wasn't she as powerful as him?
"Not yet." a little voice seemed to whisper in her head. She still had much to do; people to sweeten, abilities to learn, a mind and tongue to sharpen.
"I'll be careful." she promised, then raised to her feet to give Genya a comforting hug. "Now go before the queen throws a fit."
"That's how I can tell the hour; I don't have need for clocks anymore."
They managed a weak laugh as they came apart.
"I heard you gave Zenik quite the beating a few days ago." she said, lightening the mood.
Alina shrugged.
"I think it was luck."
"Or you're finally becoming a competent adversary."
"Competent?" she asked in fake offense.
"You know," Genya said slowly, taking a small roll. "The other grisha like her. And they like Fedyor and Sergei too."
"Your point?"
"My point is that those three don't seem to hate or fear you." she gave her a pointed look before making the bags under her eyes disappear with the softest touch. "Marie and Nadia are nice, but they're not sufficient; they hold little power and you're already inside the Etherealki circles, even if you're just at the edges of it."
Genya left with a final warning to practice her summoning as far down south of the Little Palace's grounds as she could, and to do so only if the sun shone enough which, given the current climate, left her with little opportunity. Alina thanked her for the pastries she had snuck in from the Grand Palace before rushing towards the main hall to have breakfast, even if she was already full.
Her hands ran over her now covered neck as she walked the halls and greeted the people in passing.
The marks remained unseen, but she could still feel their burn, as if she had been permanently branded by him. A part of her wanted to latch onto the memory; the other warned her of a story repeating itself.
She shook her head. She didn't let go of Mal only to repeat the pattern on a different person…
…even if that person allured her in ways she couldn't yet figure out, and haunted her dreams at night and her thoughts during the day, hovering like an omnipresent being.
He was a warm pool and she wanted to jump in and submerge in it.
"Enough!" she chastised herself, pushing out the bond that seemed to pull at them.
She took her usual seat between Nadia and Marie, but this time didn't engage in their conversation.
Placing her chin on her palm, she watched the Corporalki table, searching in the sea of red and once she caught sight of them, something sharpened in her head before cutting the strings to a machine, its gears connecting and starting to run.
She placed her fork and knife on the plate and stood up with it in hand, also grabbing her cup.
"Alina, what are you doing?" Marie inquired.
Ignoring the stares everyone gave her, she took her chance and made a move.
She approached the Corporalki table, where Nina, Fedyor and Michail sat together.
As she headed towards them, Alina felt like everyone in the room had turned into an Inferni out of the blue, for their stares burned from all sides.
Michail caught sight of her and raised his eyebrows, uttering something. Fedyor turned to give her a questioning look, but Nina didn't seem impressed with her appearance.
The walk to their table, which took only a few seconds, felt like hours, and as she stood there, plate and cup in hand, she tried to smile -not cringe nor grimace- at the Heartrenders.
"Could you make some room?"
Fedyor was still looking at her, his mouth half open.
Nina elbowed a healer seated next to her. "Move."
With a happier expression and trembling limbs, Alina squeezed herself in the sea of red and awkwardly set her plate and cup down on the table.
She looked at the trio, back straight, eyes shining.
"What brings you here, sun bean?" Nina asked, taking the spoon to her mouth.
"I just felt like talking to you lot," she said, not even knowing what she actually wanted to talk about. "and yelling at each other from across the room would make for an annoying experience for everybody else."
"Maybe;" the other woman shrugged in agreement. "but sometimes annoying people is fun."
Alina huffed a laugh.
"We're not allowed to- you're not allowed to sit here." Sergei spoke from a few seats down, swallowing awkwardly.
"I don't see my name carved in any chair."
He frowned.
"You choose the Etherealki table when you first arrived." he reminded her.
Alina tilted her head.
"I think those rules are stupid." she said plainly, as if stating that the day was cloudy.
Half the hall gasped, a third choked, and the other third remained silent. Except for Nina, who was laughing quietly into her cup. Fedyor cleared his throat and uttered something that sounded like "Saints".
"But General Kiriga-"
"Did he say it was punishable?" Alina asked, resuming her breakfast. After the sweets she had had earlier with Genya, she wasn't truly hungry, especially not for oatmeal.
Sergei hesitated, his eyebrows coming to touch each other.
"Well, no bu-"
"Then if I bother you, just look the other way while I talk to my friends."
Michail and Fedyor smiled, the latter giving her an accepting pat on the shoulder.
Nina took her hand under the table.
"Friends, uh?" she asked after swallowing a spoonful, a playfulness to her tone.
There was something underneath her gaze, under the way she held her hand under the table.
Alina thought of The Darkling, of the overwhelming sense of power, righteousness, perfection, that she had felt when she kissed him. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hot breath all over her and his personal fragrance drowning her blissfully. She could've stayed pinned up against that tree for him forever if he wanted it so.
Instead, he had left that very same day, under the protection of his shadows and far away from the gaze of her light. Without even a word, or something to remember him by.
Alina wanted to believe there was something there; that The Darkling felt something for her. The way he talked to her sometimes, like she was something worth worshipping; the way he stared at her sometimes, like he wanted to ravish her. Her heart didn't speed up in his presence for nothing; she didn't lose connection to her mind around him for nothing; and she didn't long for his mere presence and the smallest praise for nothing.
But she had done that before, for a very long time, and it had given her nothing but pain.
And here was Nina, who Alina was just starting to get to know. Pretty, funny, smart Nina, who seemed to enjoy making her blush.
Alina would be lying if she said that Nina made her forget about The Darkling. She didn't. She never would.
But Nina was here. To be her friend at least, apparently. Maybe it was due to Alina's uniqueness, but being one of the few favoured by their General, the Summoner doubted it. Nina was here, and something in the way she was staring into her dark eyes with those pretty green orbs of hers, and the way in which she almost hesitantly held her hand, told Alina of something else.
She smiled -charmingly, she hoped- but didn't squeeze back.
"Yes, if you want to."
"How couldn't I?"
They turned back to their meal, establishing an easy chit chat with the Corporalki, grey eyes always on the back of her mind.
The Darkling
Talking to his mother had been pointless, so he decided to train Alina himself.
But first, he needed to collect himself, and just how convenient was it that the king wanted to attempt another crossing.
The Darkling did not think it was a great idea, and expressed it so, especially when he 'demanded' that the Sun Summoner led the crossing.
"That is one of the most stupid things to come out of your mouth, you miserable fuck." he had been tempted to say; instead, he went for a more civilized answer. "Miss Starkov is not yet ready for a crossing."
"What happened last time-"
"It was an accident triggered by fear; her very first demonstration." he cut him off smoothly. At the moment, he did not care about being rude to the king. He did not like the fact that he could not care to know the names of at least those in higher ranks in The Second Army; he liked even less that he called her by her ability only, and with such a dismissive tone, as if she were nothing more than that. As if Alina were not one of a kind. He frowned at the intense thought, but kept on going: "Miss Starkov needs to learn how to control her abilities just like any other grisha has to."
"She's a Sun Summoner."
That was not even a point. A Squaller was a Squaller, but without training and care nothing good would grow. Alina had spent the first two decades of her life hiding her gift, probably unaware of it for most of the time. It would take time to get her ready, but The Darkling was a patient man, and he cared little for kings that ridiculed Ravka.
"And I am her General and I say she is not ready for a crossing!" he spoke, hushed, hurriedly, his anger almost getting the better of him.
He could feel Ivan's eyes on him, as well as those of the advisors of the king. With his usual façade, he silently dared them to say something.
His eyes settled on the king, who removed in his seat uncomfortable, not able to meet his gaze, his red forehead clad in sweat.
"Very well."
"I am glad that we agree."
He left that very same night, without looking back, without even considering going to see her. A few weeks away from her would do him good, even if it meant sending a few grisha into the Fold. He hoped the crossing was successful.
He rode away from her into the night, where he was at his most comfortable.
These things happened all the time: a sudden possibility for Ravka, a whim of the king, some conflict he had to resolve that left him no other choice but to leave at a moment's notice.
Still, the taste of her lips lingered, as did that of her skin. He could still feel the leaves entwined in her hair as he buried his hands in it, feeling the way her nose brushed against his, so small and soft and cold and lovely.
He was sure he would have asked her to let him have her right there had Ivan not appeared at the right moment. In all his centuries, he had taken all sorts of lovers, and within little time, they faded from his mind until he could only recall the sense of the memory of them. Only one remained in his head: Luda, killed much before her time, and yet, …
…yet, he could no longer recall her voice, and her features were a little blurred in his mind. He could recall the feeling of bitter injustice at her death; but what he remembered most was the bitter injustice all the grisha faced at the time.
Always living on the run, at some point someone would come to a stop. And he had tried, those ridiculous saints the otkazat'sya believed in knew it. Yet, at the most convenient moment, the king turned on him and sent hunt parties all over the territory.
He was almost sure he had loved Luda, and that her death had turned off something inside of him; but The Fold, …that was centuries of fear, hopelessness, betrayal, running and hiding, of being made to feel like grishas mere existence were an abomination.
He swore to himself that one day, he would build an empire, a safe space for grisha and those who were not stupid enough to fear them. He just needed to bide his time.
For him, time was of little matter. A century went by in the blink of an eye yet, then, a skiff returned to Kribirsk and talks of a searing light began, and Alina Starkov was dragged into his tent in her dirty, ragged First Army uniform.
Otkazat'sya always said that time went by faster when one was enjoying themselves, yet The Darkling had to disagree.
The past few months in the presence of Alina Starkov seemed to stretch on, to slow down the pace of his life considerably, and oddly enough, he took something akin to delight in it.
He hated himself for it.
When the sun rose in the morning, he dismounted his horse and entered his carriage instead, taking the opportunity to discuss some last details with Ivan.
Still, all he could think about was the way she had said she would miss him the last time he left and wondered if she would miss him this time around.
It was like a hangover, thinking about his fleeting moment of weakness.
He had considered seducing her, …well, he had come to the decision of doing so when she finally gave up on the otkazat'sya boy, but he had not expected to feel such a rush. He had not expected a lot of things from his plan of seducing the Sun Summoner into his side, and still he had no idea of what he had felt.
Deep in thought, he arrived at the camp just up north of Tsenma and gave a short speech to his grisha. He had no idea how he managed to come up with a different one each time.
As always, he hoped for the best.
People thought him heartless, and he mostly was, but he still retained a small piece, enough to care for his own people. With the pass of the centuries, he had learnt to hide it; it would do no one any favours if their leader seemed weak.
As he laid down to rest that night, he thought of the new, rushed skiff that was being finished and the plan the king wanted to execute. He trusted that his grisha would survive the ridiculous crossing.
A successful crossing meant more time in camps, away from the Little Palace.
It would be enough to reassess his plans to make Alina fit in, enough to detach her from whatever part of him she had clung to that day when she summoned on her own and invited him in, and then grew the tiniest bit when she said she would miss him, and then almost exploited when she kissed him.
She would be his.
There he was again, in a dark maze. Odd, he would often think; being a Shadow Summoner meant he could see through the dark, but this was different. Mayhap this was how everyone else felt when he manipulated the matter around him.
He knew it was a maze by touch; the soft leaves and slightly rough branches they were born from, and its turns gave them away.
He never found a way out. It did not matter where he turned, or how hard he tried to memorize it, or even use his shadows to cut his way through or pull the darkness into him to clear the path, there was no way out.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, there was a burst of light. He closed his eyes and shielded his face.
Then, ever so slowly, he lowered his arm and his grey orbs settled on the view around him. He was indeed in a maze, now illuminated as if it were a shiny summer morning. In front of him, maybe ten or twelve meters at a distance, there she stood.
Alina.
Dressed in a golden gown, her hair halfway up, the rest falling down her shoulders to her waist in lovely waves; her skin had an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand.
Slowly, her skin went back to normal, but when she smiled, he might as well have thought she was summoning again. She held out a hand and he took a step forward, then another, more than willing to go to her.
Her palm turned upward, making him pause.
She giggled, and then she was off, running down a corner.
He took off after her, following the path made by a thin thread of gold upon the green grass, appearing at her pace.
He ran as fast as he could, his heart racing not only due to the exercise, yet he could not catch her.
He got glimpses though. Skirts billowing freely, hair flying behind her back, a mischievous little smile and glinting eyes as she turned another corner.
It only made him run faster.
She, on the other hand, seemed to almost float rather than run, at such a leisure pace it frustrated him. How would he ever reach her? She seemed so slow.
Then, he did not get any more glimpses.
He stopped for a moment and remembered to look down.
Walking now, he followed the string of gold, his eyes never daring to stray from them. There was the tiniest bit of warmth radiating off of them, they looked too divine to just lay on the grass. He did not dare touch it though.
The air was still as he took a final turn, walked half a meter and the string came to its end.
Confusion etched on his face, he looked up and saw her.
They were at the centre of the maze. It was simply a square of grass surrounded by walls of tall bushes, and in its centre, there was his very own bed.
Alina sat at the foot, hands on her lap. She was staring at him, head tilted, …waiting.
She stood out starkly on top of his sheets, her gold seeming to shine too brightly, underskirts white even; and she looked so small, as if his own sheets could swallow her whole.
But that was what he wanted, was it not? Swallow her whole into his darkness.
He was not so sure there; and he hated uncertainty.
He knew that she was waiting still, and that he wanted her in a way he had never wanted anyone before.
She placed her hands on each side of her atop the sheets, barely leaning back. She looked so pure.
He leaped.
In a second, he was on top of her, pushing her down into the mattress and taking her face into his hands. His lips came crashing down upon hers.
She willingly took him in. She opened her mouth, and her tongue danced with his, almost shily until he became more ferocious.
She spread her legs, and he was far too eager to settle between them, the only thing keeping them apart his dark kefta and her golden skirts.
His kiss travelled up and then down her jaw, her short gasps driving him to madness. It was so little, yet he felt like he would never get enough.
He kissed down her throat, across her collarbones, almost in a worshiping manner, loving the way her legs pressed to his sides and her hands buried in his hair. He had almost reached her cleavage when she pulled him up by his dark tendrils with a hard yank. He hissed, in slight pain, in great pleasure.
He stared into her dark eyes, all dilated and black by desire. Desire for him. That only made him want her more.
"I want you to take me." she whispered, breathless. "Take me. Make me yours."
YES! That was what he wanted. He wanted her to be his and his alone; he wanted to take her in all the ways one could take someone and get lost in her until he forgot everything but the feel of her all around him.
He leaned down to kiss her again, but she flipped them over.
Her hair was in disarray, her face flushed, her skin sporting red marks of his passion.
She was the most beautiful thing to have ever existed. And she was like him. She was his. She would be.
Alina leaned down, hands going up his chest slowly and grasping his kefta.
Their breaths mingled and he tried to bite her lip, but the little Koroleva evaded him and ran her tongue all the way up his jaw. He groaned, hips pushing up. Hers pushed down in response, slowly, torturingly.
Her hot breath on his ear made him shiver, and he ran his own hands down her back and legs, barely noticing how the bright, virgin gold and white had darkened slightly.
"But only if you are mine too." she whispered to him, sharply biting his ear.
He sat up on the bed, breathing heavy, clad in sweat, all alone in his dark tent.
Guest: Hi there :) Yeah, she should be smarter, shouldn't she? Keep in mind though, this is a twenty something woman versus a centuries old dude. It may take her some time to be at his level.
I love Nina!
Hot take: Alina should've dumped Mal and stayed with Zoya instead.