Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy and its characters – it belongs to Leigh Bardugo. I do not own the Shadow & Bone TV series, which was developed by Eric Heisserer for Netflix and based on Leigh Bardugo's books. Any recognisable dialogue is from the books or TV show – some lines may be included verbatim, others in an amended form.

This is similar to the two 'Years' chapters and is a series of vignettes from when Alina is thirteen years old.

Lady Starkov

When Alina turned thirteen, the oprichniki stopped calling her Miss Starkov and started calling her Lady Starkov.

She briefly wondered if the change in address was the oprichniki's own decision, but quickly discarded that thought. Though six of them had been assigned solely to protect her for the last five years, they were still the Darkling's personal guard, answering only to him, and she doubted they would give her a different title without his express order.

"I don't understand it," she confided in Genya a few days after her birthday, "I mean it's not like any of them talk much, so why does anyone even care what they call me?"

Her beautiful friend shook her head in exasperation, "appearances matter, Alina, whether we want them to or not. The title is a sign of respect."

Alina privately thought she hadn't done all that much to be worthy of respect. Her abilities were progressing fairly well – she could resist Baghra's amplification consistently enough to satisfy the old woman and the scope of her powers grew at a steady rate, so that she only had to suffer being whacked on the leg with Baghra's cane every few weeks rather than most days – but she was far from being ready to take on the Fold.

In Alina's opinion, all the change of address seemed likely to do was isolate her from her peers and make her even more different than she already was.

"Do you think they'd go back to 'Miss Starkov' if I asked?"

"Saints," Genya gasped, "what are you thinking, Alina? You can't refuse this kind of honour from the Darkling."

"Well, he might have asked me before he did it," she grumbled, "it's going to be like my first day all over again."

The Tailor watched her with wide eyes, "honestly, Alina, surely you must have known something like this would happen eventually. You are the Sun Summoner, after all."

Alina only shrugged. The truth was that she tried not to think much about the future or the unknown time where she would eventually have to enter the Fold. Thoughts like that usually just led her down a road of panic and fear.

"No," Genya shook her head, clearly recognising the expression on Alina's face, "no more of this self-doubt, Alina. You are going to be fine. You'll train and deal with the Fold and then, Saints willing, we'll finally be able to have a meal that isn't mostly herring."

Alina let out a loud laugh, "I think it would be worth all the training and trouble just to banish herring for good."

Genya lifted her tea-cup and chinked it gently against Alina's, "to a life without herring."

Well, thought Alina, it's not the most saintly of motives, but there are worse things in life than wanting to be rid of herring.

After the oprichniki and servants started to treat her with more formality, most of her Grisha peers became, if not exactly cool towards her, at least more distant than they had been before. It wasn't quite as bad as she had feared it might be, nevertheless it still frustrated her.

She had always been set apart from them, with her black and gold kefta, but as children they had usually all played together without worry. Now, as they grew older, her 'otherness' made some of them uneasy – to be favoured by the Second Army General was a great honour, but most of the younger Grisha tended to be nervous around him.

Besides, their training was beginning to specialise, and Alina had to work alone more and more, while she watched her peers train in pairs and groups.

Genya, at least, was as wonderful as ever. And Zoya still used every opportunity to try and humiliate Alina during combat training.

"I never thought I'd appreciate Zoya, of all people," she told Fedyor, when he was back at the Little Palace for a week's break, "but at least she doesn't stammer whenever I talk to her … or run away."

"You're a very special girl, Alina. Sometimes that can be intimidating."

"They've known me for years," she protested, "but now I have a ridiculous title and suddenly they're all looking at me like I'm some kind of saint. It's not even a real title, just a courtesy."

Fedyor sighed softly, "do you know why the Little Palace has walls in the first place?"

She thought about making a flippant remark, but it was clear that it wasn't the right moment for it. Besides, she'd heard enough horror stories to understand why her home was so well protected. She simply nodded in answer to his question.

"For years," he continued, "being Grisha was a death sentence. At least now, thanks to the Darkling, we're protected. Feared. That's how we survive, not by being overlooked, but by making them look and making them know we're powerful. All of Ravka has been waiting for you, Alina, and that is why they call you Lady Starkov."

"I get that the whole country wants to see the Fold gone," she said, "but I haven't even done anything yet."

"It's bigger than that," Fedyor explained. You are hope for the country, yes, but a myth come true for Grisha. It was a Grisha who created the Fold. If a Grisha destroys it, maybe … maybe we wouldn't need these high walls to protect us anymore."

It was a hopeful thought, the promise of a time where Grisha and otkazat'sya could live peacefully together. However, she worried that it might not be realistic. Grisha seemed to be considered as pets who did party tricks, cannon fodder or dangerous weapons to be controlled, which did not suggest integration among the otkazat'sya would be easy.

That was Fedyor, though, optimistic to the core.

"A nice dream," Alina sighed softly.

Fedyor wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a warm hug, "don't be so despondent, Alina. You're stronger than you think."

She couldn't help but smile. "I see you and Genya have both appointed yourselves as my personal morale boosters."

He laughed, "well, then, this seems like the perfect time to share something that turned up in the recent shipment from Kerch."

"Shokolad," her eyes widened, "however did you get hold of that, Fedyor? I thought the King and Queen hoarded it all."

"It pays to be friends with the kitchen staff," he reminded her, "now come on, Nina once told me there was nothing better than melted Shokolad on top of some warm waffles."

"I adore you, Fedyor, have I ever told you that?"

"All the time," he grinned, "but it's nice to hear it anyway."

(It turned out that Nina was right. Alina had never tasted anything quite so delicious as Shokolad covered waffles).

"Saints! What happened?" asked Genya, eyeing Alina's mud-caked kefta and the dust in her hair with dismay.

Alina winced slightly as she sat down, "I got paired with Zoya in combat training. I broke her nose – it was glorious, Genya, really – and then she used her powers to toss me into a wall."

She couldn't help the pride that slipped into her voice. No matter what the Squaller had done afterward, Alina had managed a solid punch that had landed with a satisfying crack.

"She used her powers in training! Botkin must have been furious."

"I've never seen him quite so serious," Alina told her, "Zoya actually looked kind of scared."

"It's not Botkin she'll have to worry about," Genya said grimly, "the Darkling's back from one of his campaigns tomorrow and I don't imagine it will take long for him to hear about what happened."

Perhaps Alina should feel bad. She'd never really experienced the Darkling's displeasure herself, but everyone knew he wasn't to be trifled with. She didn't have much sympathy for Zoya, though – the older girl should have known better than to use her powers in the training grounds.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Genya asked, "have you been to see the Healers?"

Alina nodded. Her oprichniki had insisted on it.

"I had to argue with Igor to stop him from carrying me to the Infirmary. It looks worse than it is – I got lucky."

"Didn't you say Zoya threw you into a wall."

"The wall was far away," she explained, "I'd lost quite a bit of momentum so I didn't hit it that hard, really."

Genya sighed, "Zoya should be the one who considers herself lucky, then. I don't want to think what the Darkling would have done if you'd been seriously hurt."

"Surely these things happen in training sometimes."

"Almost never, and Zoya's fifteen – she should have better control than this. Besides, you're not anyone, Alina, you're the Sun Summoner."

"I know, I know," the Tailor added, before Alina could argue, "you don't want to be treated any differently. It can't be helped, though – you're the only Sun Summoner, the one hope we've got when it comes to the Fold."

"Urgh," Alina sighed, "enough about the Sun Summoner stuff. Are you free at all tomorrow – the Healers told me I should take a day off to rest, 'in case of complications'. I bet we could get a good two or three hours in the banya without anyone interrupting us."

Genya's eyes lit up, "the Queen is at a tedious state event tomorrow, so once I've wiped away all her blemishes and crow's feet in the morning, I'm free again until I have to help her prepare for dinner."

"It'll be so nice to just relax for a while," Alina smiled.

"Without all the Corporalki hogging the banya," the Tailor added with a pleased look on her face.

"They really should institute some sort of rota," Alina said, "it would certainly stop all the arguments."

Genya shook her head, "the only one everyone would listen to is the Darkling. And no one is about to ask him to waste his time on something so trivial."

"But anyway," the Tailor continued, "onto more important topics, like a detailed description of exactly what happened when you punched Zoya on the nose."

Alina laughed, "oh, Genya, it was a beautiful, beautiful moment."

"Details, details," Genya trilled.

"Right," Alina began, "well it all started when Botkin paired us together and she smirked like she couldn't wait to humiliate me. I admit, I didn't think I'd actually manage to land a blow on her. It surprised me almost as much as it did her."

"Oh, I wish I'd been there."

"Well, I'm sure Marie and Nadia will give you a play by play soon enough. They got so over-excited about the whole incident that Botkin threatened to make them run laps for the next half hour."

"And then Zoya tossed you into the wall."

"I wasn't expecting it," Alina admitted, "I was still in shock that I'd actually hit her. And also still mentally gloating over the wonderful cracking noise when my fist collided with her nose."

"It's an event that deserves proper reverence," Genya said seriously, even as her mouth twitched upwards.

"And that was it," Alina finished, "I was a bit dazed but Marie and Nadia helped me up. Then Igor and Leonid escorted me to the Infirmary."

"Well, congratulations," the Tailor smiled, "you've made my day, no … my week. The thought of Zoya's perfect nose being damaged – even if she can go to the Healers – is going to make an evening spent with the Queen and ladies bearable."

"Glad to be of service, Genya," Alina said, "but if you don't mind, I really need a long bath."

"You are a mess," Genya conceded, the twinkle in her eyes making it clear her comment was in jest, "and I am very nearly late for the Queen. There is nothing more tedious than a lecture from her about punctuality, when she can never arrive at an event on time herself."

"Good luck," Alina called, turning her attention to the important issue of whether to use all the sweet-smelling bath products she had or just most of them.

It was time for a luxurious soak in her tub while she relived her triumph over Zoya once or twice (or a dozen times).

-x-x-x-

Rumours abounded about what exactly the Darkling had said to Zoya after the incident in combat training, but at dinner one evening Marie swore that the older girl had been seen leaving the War Room in tears.

"I heard he's sent her off to exile in Tsibeya," Sergei, who was passing by, told them.

Nadia scoffed, "don't be stupid. She was in the dining room this morning for breakfast like normal."

Sergei flushed angrily, "well maybe she's leaving today."

The three of them began to bicker, but Alina just tuned them out. It made sense for Zoya to be punished, but the Squaller was too talented to be dismissed entirely and she was sure that Zoya would be back to her usual confident self in no time.

As if her ears were burning, the girl in question chose that moment to walk into the dining room.

The room didn't go silent, but there were definitely more than a few people staring at the Squaller, who went a little pinker than usual, though she kept up a confident façade.

Zoya took a seat and began eating quickly. None of her usual friends or hangers-on moved to sit with her, but she looked for all the world as if she didn't care in the slightest.

She was gone in less than ten minutes, determinedly not looking in Alina's direction.

"Well, that was awkward," Marie said.

Nadia and Sergei nodded in agreement.

Alina said nothing. There had been something in Zoya's expression as she left the room, a brief, fleeting vulnerability that reminded her that the Squaller was human.

Forgiveness was supposedly divine, or some such thing, so maybe Alina should follow that directive.

(she still dreamed of having another chance to hit Zoya in the face, though – after all, she was human too).

Genya needed to collect something from the Fabrikator Workshop.

"I thought they tended to deliver whatever they made," Alina said, "less chance of someone startling them and causing another explosion, like the one last year that took out a huge chunk of the wall and nearly sliced two Alkemi in half."

Genya blushed and Alina narrowed her eyes suspiciously. The only times her best friend blushed were when the mysterious DK was involved.

"They were busy today, so I said I'd come and pick it up," the Tailor told her, "don't worry, I gave them plenty of advance warning."

Alina only hummed, following Genya through the door and over to a Durast who pushed a parcel towards them without even looking up from her own work.

They didn't leave straight away. Instead, Genya led the way over to a pale, thin boy with long brown hair that fell into his eyes. He was hunched over what looked like a pair of gloves.

"Hello, David," the Tailor gave the boy a brilliant smile.

Genya's smile had made boys and girls alike fall over their feet, stutter to a halt and, on one memorable occasion, trip into the lake. This boy didn't even look up.

"David," she repeated.

She didn't sound irritated, only faintly resigned.

The boy looked up, "oh, hello."

"Alina," Genya said, "meet David Kostyk, genius Durast. David, this is Alina. The Sun Summoner."

Ah, David Kostyk, Alina thought, DK.

She had seen David around the palace before, usually with his head in a book, but she had never been properly introduced and hadn't known his name.

David inclined his head vaguely in Alina's direction, but didn't say anything else.

"Don't take it personally," Genya shrugged, "if it's not made of metal or glass, he's generally not interested."

Now there was an edge to her voice. Alina noticed how often she shot David little glances, even though he didn't look up.

Unrequited love. Well, that was a little depressing. If someone like Genya – beautiful, clever, talented – couldn't get the boy she liked to even look at her then what hope was there for the rest of them.

Still, as they were leaving Alina happened to look back, only to see David watching Genya intently.

Huh, maybe not quite as unrequited as she had first thought.

"I'm not getting up. I'm sick."

"Darling, you're Grisha. We don't get sick."

Alina coughed loudly. Even to her own ears it didn't sound at all convincing.

"This is about the Fjerdan exam you have today, isn't it? You really don't need to worry – we can't all be fluent in half a dozen languages like Nina, or perfect at accents like Marie."

"I can just hear Zoya now," Alina grumbled, "the Sun Summoner, did you know she can barely even manage a basic greeting in Fjerdan?"

Genya rolled her eyes, "who cares what Zoya thinks, especially since she's in disgrace at the moment? You're far better than she is in History, aren't you? You can't be good at everything. Now come on, if you don't hurry up then you'll miss breakfast."

"It'll just be kasha again," Alina muttered, "I'm sure it wouldn't kill anyone if they let us have sausage, bacon and eggs every now and then."

"Well, why don't you bring it up with the Darkling when he's back."

Alina snorted softly at the idea of talking to the General of the Second Army about the breakfast options, "no thanks. I don't want to get another lecture about solidarity with the Ravkan people."

"Then you will just have to suffer the kasha," Genya told her, "be grateful you have fruit to make it a little more exciting. The Fabrikators only perfected the greenhouse a few weeks after you arrived. Before that we only got fresh fruit a few months out of the year."

"You had to eat kasha on its own?" Alina asked, wide-eyed.

Kasha was far better than herring, but it was still bland if eaten without some accompanying berries or other fruit.

"Yes, our sufferings were great," Genya rolled her eyes, "so you see, a Fjerdan exam really isn't too bad in comparison."

"Alright, don't nag," Alina sighed, "I'll get up, but I won't like it."

"Well done, darling," her best friend smiled indulgently at her, "and to make you feel better, I managed to sneak some Shokolad out of the Queen's stash for you to have after your exam."

"Best. Friend. Ever."

Genya winked, "and don't you forget it."

"Look at these, Alina."

Nadia and Marie had just been on a trip into the city and had bought back a pile of painted icons they had found at various market stalls, all of which depicted 'Sankta Alina'.

She didn't like it, not at all.

"I haven't even done anything," she said, "I'm not a Saint, not even close."

"They're not very accurate," Marie noted, "look at these two, they're both blonde."

Alina wrinkled her nose. It was well-known that she was half-Shu and that her hair was dark. As if it wasn't bad enough that people were trying to push unearned, unwanted Sainthood onto her, it seemed some of them wanted to pretend she was an angelic-looking blonde. No one had ever accused Alina of looking angelic.

"And see the dress that one is wearing," Nadia pointed at another icon, "it's ridiculous. It doesn't look anything like your kefta."

"Get rid of that trash," Ivan loomed over them, glaring disdainfully at the icons, before he turned to Alina, "the Darkling wants to see you."

Alina got to her feet while Nadia and Marie swept up the icons. As she followed Ivan towards the War Room she didn't bother trying to make conversation. He wouldn't tell her what the Darkling wanted and he had little patience for the chatter of anyone who wasn't Fedyor or the Darkling.

There were a dozen or so people in the War Room when she arrived, but they all hurried out once they saw Alina, nodding deferentially first to the Darkling and then to her. Ivan closed the door as he left, though she imagined he would be waiting right outside, along with her oprichniki.

Alina couldn't help but be a little concerned. The Darkling was, if she remembered correctly, only back at the Little Palace for a week and probably had a thousand things to do. For him to ask to see her, rather than sending a message through Ivan, Fedyor or her oprichniki, suggested he had something important to discuss.

"How are your lessons?" he asked as he flicked through a pile of papers.

"Baghra hasn't hit me with her cane in nearly three weeks, so training is going quite well. My other lessons are fine."

"Even Fjerdan?"

She could hear the teasing note in his voice even as she flushed slightly.

"I saw your latest test scores," he added, "I suppose it's good that I have no intention of sending you near Fjerda anytime soon."

"I can't be good at everything," Alina retorted, echoing the words Genya had told her a few weeks previously.

"No," he agreed, with the slightly condescending tone of a person who always seemed to excel at everything they did. She had heard him speak Fjerdan and while he wasn't fluent in the language (as he was in Shu and Kerch), it was a near thing.

A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

"You haven't had any further issues with Miss Nazyalensky, have you?"

She shook her head. She hadn't spoken to Zoya since the incident during training, although a very formal apology note (probably written by the Squaller under great duress) had been delivered to her by her oprichnik Dimitri.

"Good. Rest assured that she has been quite thoroughly reminded of the standard of behaviour expected of her."

He looked up from his papers then, eyes cold. She thought about the rumours that said Zoya had left the War Room in tears and she believed them more than ever – the Darkling was very good at expressing his disappointment without words, and if he had chastised Zoya then even the proud Squaller would probably have crumpled.

"Now," he said, "I wanted to see you to discuss a security issue. I know you're aware that the Apparat has been mentioning you more and more frequently in his sermons."

Alina frowned. She didn't like the Apparat or the way he looked at her on the few occasions she was forced to interact with him.

"I have … suggested to the King that he reign the Apparat in, but I'm afraid our Tsar is too enamoured of the idea of having a Saint in his capital city."

"I'm not a Saint, though," she protested.

"And yet they still call you Sankta," the Darkling countered.

She thought that his words were tinged with a little bitterness (although she couldn't understand why) but perhaps she was mistaken.

"I don't go into the city," she said, "and never to the Cathedral."

You won't let me out of the Little Palace, she thought, especially after what happened last time.

"The threat may creep over even our high walls. We had to remove one of your maids just yesterday. She was caught trying to sell locks of your hair to some of the peasants living in the villages just outside Os Alta."

Alina thought she knew the maid he was talking about. Sofia had always seemed friendly, if a little quiet and in awe of Alina. She'd been the one to give Alina her most recent haircut. It seemed insane to think of anyone wanting to buy an inch or two of her muddy brown locks.

"I can't just stay in my room. I have to go to lessons, and I need to train."

"I'm increasing your security," he told her, "your oprichniki will be split into two teams now instead of three, so you'll have an extra guard with you at all times. And I want you to stay close to the Little Palace whenever you go into the gardens – no walking around near the main gates."

"Alright," she agreed.

He seemed to regard her easy acquiescence with scepticism.

She was a little offended, really. She wasn't stupid enough to try and run off – she had no doubt that if she tried such a stunt then he would lock her in her room with absolutely no regret. Besides, she didn't particularly want to meet anyone who took the Apparat's word as gospel.

"Just remember, Alina," he warned her, "these cultists do not care for you, only about the mythical Sankta they have built up in their minds. They would seek to use you for their own ends, rather than for the good of Ravka. If they got hold of you then your safety would not be assured – there are many of them who believe a dead Saint is just as good, if not better, than a living one."

She nodded, and he seemed satisfied that his words would be heeded.

"Off you go, Alina," he said, after a few of silence, "remember what I said."

She could feel his gaze on her back as she left, assessing her as always.

Leonid had joined Pavel and Dimitri, all of them waiting outside for her. The Darkling's orders, it seemed, were to be put into effect immediately.

Alina had been planning a walk in the gardens, but that had lost its appeal following her talk with the Darkling. Now she just wanted to go back to her room and be alone for a while.

Later, when she was curled up in the cosy armchair by the fireplace in her room, she thought about the earlier conversation.

Everyone wanted to use her, it seemed. The Apparat wanted to turn her into a saint. The King wanted her to tear down the Fold. The people wanted to put her on a pedestal (from which it would be so very easy to fall).

What did the Darkling want?

The motivations of the Apparat, the King and the general population were fairly clear. The Darkling was more difficult to read, an enigma who only ever showed some of his hand, while keeping the rest carefully hidden.

Alina was smart enough to know that even when he shared information or asked her opinion, she only saw a small part of the whole. As she got older it chafed more and more, but how could she dare to demand confidences from one such as him?

All she could do was listen, learn, watch and hope that time and patience would reveal more to her.

Alina was engrossed in a book of Ravkan fairytales, trying not to think about the fact that she was stuck inside the Little Palace while most of the students had been able to go into the city, when she heard someone call her name.

"Fedyor!" she grinned when she saw him, "I didn't think you were due back for a few weeks."

"Change of plans," the Heartrender said as he stepped forward to ruffle her hair affectionately.

She looked closer at him. He clearly hadn't stopped to get changed before he came to find her – his kefta was splattered with mud and some dark rust-coloured stains that were almost certainly blood. He seemed tired too, more worn down than usual.

"What happened?" she asked, concern making her frown.

He sighed, "we received information about a facility just over the Shu Han border, one where their scientists were experimenting on Grisha. The security was quite light, so the Darkling agreed we should raid it to see if we could save any of the Grisha there."

His eyes seemed haunted. Alina knew Fedyor had seen his fair share of combat and she felt sick thinking about the sort of things he would have had to witness to put such a look in his eyes.

"We couldn't save them all," he shook his head sadly, "the tortures they were inflicting there … I don't blame our Inferni for lighting the whole place on fire once we were all clear."

"How many?"

She was almost scared to find out the answer, but she had to know.

"There were thirty Grisha there. Nine were already dead. Seven didn't survive the journey back, despite the best efforts of our Healers. The rest came back here with us – eight adults and six children … the children are why I'm here."

Alina almost asked if the survivors were ok, but she knew that was a foolish question. The Healers would ensure they were as physically well as possible, but she had no doubts that they would all be severely traumatised.

"They don't trust adults, you see," Fedyor continued, "they know we saved them, but it's clear they also think we're going to hurt them. I wondered if you could sit with them for a few hours, while we get their rooms set up. We thought they might feel more comfortable around someone younger."

"Of course," she agreed immediately.

Fedyor looked dead on his feet and, although she didn't know how much use she'd be, she wanted to help if she could.

-x-x-x-

Having been found at a facility on the border, it was no surprise that there were both Shu and Ravkan children. All of them were alike, however, in their skittishness, huddled together in a corner of the room.

Alina had no idea what to do with them. She'd left the orphanage before she reached the age when she would have been expected to care for the younger children, and she wasn't even sure how many of them understood or spoke Ravkan.

First, she tried to coax them to eat the food a few of the servants had delivered, but they didn't touch it until they saw Alina eat some herself. She realised with a jolt of horror that their meals had probably been drugged by the scientists at some point.

Once they had eaten they seemed a little more comfortable, a little less wary.

She taught them all a simple clapping game she remembered from the orphanage, though it broke her heart to see how gently they pressed their hands together, as if afraid to touch anyone else with any kind of strength.

She almost squeaked in surprise when the youngest child, barely five years old, climbed into her lap and curled up against her. She ran her fingers through the little boy's hair, humming quietly. A few minutes later he was fast asleep. She looked down at him and shuddered at the idea that anyone could hurt a child the way those at the Shu facilities did.

Seemingly more at ease, four of the other children began to play with the ring toss game that someone had left in the room. The other, a girl of about seven, came up to Alina and sat down next to her. She didn't speak, but she put her tiny hand in Alina's and just held it tightly.

Alina continued to hum and the girl leant against her side, asleep in less than five minutes.

That was how Fedyor found them an hour and a half later.

Alina herself was drowsy, but she kept an eye on the four children still playing even as she shifted every now and then to make the two sleeping children more comfortable.

A small army of Grisha followed the Heartrender through the door. They all had kind, gentle expressions, probably chosen to give the least possible alarm to the children.

She smiled encouragingly at the children as the Grisha began to shepherd them out, presumably to take them to their new rooms. The little girl next to her woke and took the hand of one of the Healers without much fuss.

Fedyor himself lifted the boy from her lap, holding him carefully.

"Thank you, Alina," he shot her a smile, "how were they?"

"Scared to begin with," she admitted, "but they did have some food, once they'd seen me eat it first. Then they played for a while and the two youngest had a nap."

"Good," he looked weary but grateful, "that's good."

"I still can't believe what was done to them," Alina admitted, "they're just children, innocent children."

Fedyor looked briefly furious, an expression usually more at home on Ivan's face, "there are some crimes that cannot be forgiven," he agreed, "I would not blame someone for being wary of Grisha, of what we can do, but this … to harm and kill the way they do in those facilities … it's barbaric."

He sighed softly, "go and have a rest, Alina, we'll take it from here."

Alina walked back to her room in silence.

She was so distracted by what she had seen that on three separate occasions one of her oprichniki had to reach out and gently prevent her from walking into a wall.

She skipped dinner, not in the mood for a chattering crowd. She couldn't concentrate on her studies or one of her books, so she tried to fall asleep. She tossed and turned for nearly two hours, but all she could see when she closed her eyes were the skeletal, traumatised children that she had looked after.

The knock at her door made her jump, but she went over to answer it, entirely uncaring of the fact that her hair was a mess and her clothes were crumpled.

Igor was there, with a small vial and a sealed note in his hand that he offered to her without a word.

"Thanks," she mumbled, taking the items and then shutting the door once more.

She sat down on her bed and opened the note.

Alina,

This is a sleeping draught. Just add it to a glass of water and you'll have a dreamless rest tonight. I thought you might need it.

Fedyor

She didn't even hesitate, opening the vial and tipping it into the glass of water on her bedside table.

There was no need for her to check the contents. She didn't know how to recognise a sleeping draught but she knew that Igor would never have given it to her if it wasn't safe.

She drained the glass in only a few seconds, then lay back on her bed and waited for the effects to kick in.

It was quick acting. She was drowsy after only a minute or two, and she barely had time to think about how grateful she was to Fedyor for sending the draught before she was fast asleep.

As promised, her sleep was blissfully free of dreams.

-x-x-x-

Two weeks later, news trickled in of a series of highly successful raids against some of the Shu border towns.

Alina celebrated with the other Grisha at the Little Palace, but she worried a little about the number of civilian casualties reported. The gruesome experiments performed by Shu scientists were well-known – and the evidence was clear in the too-thin, too nervous Grisha that had recently been rescued – but surely there were plenty of innocent people in those towns. After all, her own parents had been killed in a border skirmish, collateral damage in a fight between Ravkan and Shu forces.

"The reports aren't always right," Marie tried to reassure her, "I'm sure it was mostly soldiers who were killed. I've heard a lot of the border towns are used to help smuggle Shu soldiers into Ravka without our army noticing."

"The towns were very close to that facility anyway," Sergei added, "those people are probably responsible for all the Grisha who were locked up there."

Alina nodded, but she was still concerned. Collateral damage was everywhere, in every engagement between enemy forces, be it big or small.

Would there ever be peace, she wondered. And what would it cost?

Alina was tired.

She didn't know what it was, exactly. She was certainly healthy, thanks to regular use of her powers, but somehow she spent most of her time feeling lethargic and slow.

Maybe it was helplessness. The children that had been rescued from the Shu facility had driven home how much the Grisha suffered despite the Darkling's efforts. Soldiers, Grisha and otkazat'sya alike, died on the battlefield in the never-ending war against their enemies. Her powers grew but she still wasn't close to being ready to do anything about the Fold.

She was just a girl. Just one girl.

Sometimes she thought life might have been simpler if she was ordinary.

Alina returned from a gruelling session with Baghra one day to find Genya laying out a curious array of objects on her table. There was a pad of drawing paper and some pencils, two wickedly sharp knives, a bundle of fabric with some needles and thread, and a number of other items.

"You need a hobby," Genya declared, "you've been spending all of your time recently training, in lessons or staring out of the window. Melancholy is not a good look for a Sun Summoner."

"Marie and Nadia got to go to Balakirev for a few days, Zoya is heading to Caryeva in a few weeks and Sergei is getting specialist training in Adena. I haven't left the Palace grounds in over a year, Genya."

"The Darkling has a lot of practice in keeping Grisha safe," Genya told her with a sympathetic smile, "he knows what he's doing. He doesn't want something to happen to you before you've had the chance to learn to protect yourself properly."

"I just think I should be out there, not stuck here. Surely there's something I can do to help, even if I can't face the Fold just yet."

"I wouldn't say anything like that when you're in the vicinity of the Apparat," Genya warned her, "he'll try and take you on some ridiculous Holy Tour of the country."

Alina grimaced. She wished to help, but the last thing she wanted was to be stuck with the Apparat for weeks and months while strangers tried to cut pieces of her hair off or asked her to bless their children.

"It might cheer you up to know that the Caryeva assignment Zoya is going on is an absolute dud," Genya added, "extremely boring surveillance for a month. I think it's part of her punishment for what she did to you in training. She was supposed to be accompanying the Darkling when he went to Os Kervo, but she's missing out on that now."

"At least she gets to leave Os Alta," Alina muttered, although it did help to hear that Zoya's assignment wasn't nearly as glamorous as the Squaller had been boasting it was.

"Nope, no more moping," Genya shook her head, "come on, have a look. I'm sure we can find you a new hobby in no time."

Alina acquiesced and looked down at the table.

Her eyes were drawn to the paper and pencils. She'd enjoyed drawing as a child, though she hadn't had much time to develop any kind of talent, and the idea of being able to sketch the faces of those who surrounded her appealed – it seemed likely that she would remain as untouched by age as the Darkling was, the two of them outliving Genya, Fedyor and everyone else they knew, even those like Ivan with amplifiers, so it would be nice to have a record of them as they were now.

Genya saw the direction she was looking and grinned, "ooh, you have to promise to sketch me first."

"I haven't drawn in years," she warned Genya, "it will probably be awful."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad. Besides, how could I ever say no to a Sun Summoner original?"

"As long as you don't sell it to someone as a Sankta original," Alina sighed.

"Oh, I heard about the hair thing," Genya said, "you should be grateful it wasn't something weirder, really. The stories say that when some of the earlier Saints were alive, people would collect their toenail clippings and mix them into potions."

"Urgh, that's gross, Genya."

The Tailor shrugged, "I'm just giving you some perspective. Besides, I don't imagine you'll have to worry about that now."

Alina had to agree. The servants had already been respectful, but since the Darkling had removed Sofia for trying to sell locks of Alina's hair to peasants, the remaining maids had been almost terrified of her. She had tried to put them at ease, but they went about their work silently and efficiently, leaving as quickly as possible with only a curtsey and a "good day, Lady Starkov."

Alina looked again at the paper and pencils. Her fingers itched to sketch – she hadn't realised until now just how much she'd missed drawing.

"I'll leave you to create your masterpiece," Genya smiled at her.

"Thanks, Genya. Really, thank you."

Genya's smile softened, "have fun, Alina. You need a break."

The door closed quietly behind the Tailor and Alina grabbed a pencil and some paper, immediately beginning to sketch out the rough lines of her best friend's beautiful face.

-x-x-x-

Two days later Alina shyly presented Genya with a drawing.

"Oh, Alina, it's wonderful!"

"It's not very good, I know," she said, "I need to practice more. I don't think I got your nose quite right, or the shape of your face, or –"

Genya put a hand up to stop her, "it's amazing. I will not have you slandering this work of art."

Alina blushed furiously, "you really like it?"

"I love it," Genya grinned.

"Well, I'll do you a better one some day, I promise."

"Hey," Genya called out as Alina turned to head towards her first lesson, "do you think … do you think you'd be able to do a sketch of David?"

It was the Tailor's turn to duck her head and blush now. It was always odd seeing Genya nervous and unsure.

"I can try," she offered, "but you should keep talking to him, you know – I don't think he's as oblivious to you as you think."

"Oh, David will never look twice at me," Genya sighed sadly.

"I think you might be surprised," Alina said, "just … don't give up entirely."

"I'll see what I can do about a drawing," she continued, "I imagine I could sit in the Fabrikator Workshop for hours sketching him and he'd never notice."

"I love you, I love you, I love you, darling," Genya squealed, giving her a quick hug before she rushed off in the direction of the Grand Palace.

(Alina slipped the sketch of David to Genya the next week, quite proud of how well it had turned out. When she returned to her room that evening there was a veritable feast of cakes and pastries waiting for her, snuck over from the Grand Palace. Alina smiled – it seemed like sketching was turning out to be a more lucrative hobby than she'd expected).

One afternoon, Alina came across Botkin with some of the children that had been rescued from Shu Han. He was watching them all play a game together, chattering together in Shu.

"How are they?" she asked as she sat down next to him.

The children were laughing, but it was easy to see that they were still far too thin, and there was something in their expressions that told her true healing would be a long time coming. She'd only heard pieces of what they had endured and it had been more than enough to horrify her.

"Time and patience are needed," was all her instructor would say.

"Do you ever miss it?" she asked after a few minutes of quiet, "Shu Han, I mean?"

For a moment he said nothing and she thought for sure she'd offended him, "sorry, I shouldn't have –"

"Little girl does not need to worry," he interrupted her, "there is nothing wrong with questions."

He was quiet for a minute before he continued, "Love for a home country does not blind you to its faults. Shu Han is a wondrous place, but there is much evil there too. That is the way of most countries."

It was a good way of looking at things, Alina supposed, very balanced.

"Can there ever be peace, do you think?"

"Peace means many different things to many different people."

She almost sighed. Botkin could be very straightforward when he wanted, but he also liked to give cryptic clues occasionally in the hope that his students would work out the answers themselves.

She tried a different question, "how did you end up here?"

"Botkin goes where he is needed."

If the rumours were true, their combat instructor been practically everywhere. Alina could barely remember the border town that had been her home as a small child, and apart from that there had only been Keramzin and Os Alta.

"What is the world like? I wish I could travel one day … but I sometimes fear I'll never leave these walls."

It wasn't that she wanted to abandon her country, but it would be nice to know that eventually she would be free to cross the True Sea, to visit Novyi Zem or Kerch or the Wandering Isle.

"Everyone has a destiny, xiăo gūniáng, though the path is not always clear."

Another cryptic answer. Did he mean that her path would not be clear of obstacles, or that she might not yet realise what it was? Her head hurt just thinking about it.

"Tea?" he asked, gesturing to the ornate teapot that he preferred over the samovars that were more common in the Little Palace.

She nodded, "thank you."

They sat quietly for twenty minutes, drinking tea and watching the children play. Alina pulled out the sketchbook and pencil she'd taken to carrying with her almost everywhere, drawing almost absentmindedly.

By the time she had drained the last drops from her teacup, she had finished a sketch of the children playing together. It was a rough drawing, but it didn't try and hide the scars the children still bore from their experience. Still, she thought she'd managed to capture the feeling of hope too.

She stood to leave then, hesitating for only a moment before she pulled the drawing out of her sketchbook and presented it to the combat instructor, "for you, Master Botkin."

His mouth widened into a smile that transformed his face., "this is good work."

She ducked her head at the praise and turned to head back towards her room.

"There is nothing wrong with being afraid," she heard him call after her, "only take care not to let fear rule you."

"I'll try, Master Botkin," she promised as she walked away, "I'll try."

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.

The next chapter should be out next Friday.