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.

Assassination Attempt

Alina was about to turn fourteen when she finally figured out exactly why Genya wore a kefta in servant's colours, and where (or who) her extensive jewellery collection came from.

There had always been vague whispers, but she had never really understood or paid much attention until recently, determined not to listen to gossip about Genya. Part of her wished she could have stayed ignorant forever.

Alina had never respected the King of Ravka, but now she knew that she hated the man for what he did to her best friend.

She remembered that the first piece of jewellery had appeared almost two years ago. Genya had been Alina's age and that monster had …

She could scarcely bear to think of it.

"Surely the Darkling can stop this," Alina said, confused and concerned, "if you just told him."

"I told him as soon as it began," Genya told her, "and he immediately offered to remove me from the Grand Palace and send me far away from the King's grasp. He gave me a choice, though – if I chose to stay then I would be assured my revenge one day, my chance to give the King a well-deserved reckoning."

"But, Genya," she protested, "how do you bear it?"

"I am a soldier in my own way," Genya gave her a sad smile, "I picked my path and one day soon the King will dearly regret what he has done."

The Tailor's words were ominous, but Alina could hardly blame her for speaking ill of the man who abused her, even if he was the King of Ravka.

She wanted to protest more, to try and see if there was any way Genya could be moved away from the Grand Palace without giving offence to the King to whose caprices and whims they were subject.

Genya's expression was closed off now, though, and Alina knew better than to try and bring the topic back up.

And so Alina let her best friend talk a little too fast about her most recent visit to the Fabrikator Workshop (David still seemed to be mostly oblivious to her presence, but he had actually said hello without prompting this time) while she busied herself with styling Alina's hair into an intricate braid.

Genya had said that the King would one day regret his actions and Alina had no doubt that her prediction would come true.

Still, she stored up all her own rage on her friend's behalf and promised herself that if she ever got the chance then she'd blind the King so he'd never be able to leer at a woman again.

It was late when Alina found the Darkling alone in the War Room, looking over some troop formations. She knew he was leaving for a brief trip to Balakirev in the morning, though, and he wouldn't be back until a few days after her upcoming Birthday.

He took one look at her and sighed deeply, "there is nothing I can do, Alina, not now."

"How –"

"Genya was here just a few minutes ago. She was extremely distressed about what you had discovered. I believe she found it something of a comfort to have a friend who was unaware of her … situation."

"Situation?" Alina seethed, "he's … he's raping her and you're not doing anything about it!"

"Do you think I enjoy the idea that one of my Grisha is being violated in such a way?" he asked, bitter and angry, "I am not a god, Alina, no matter what some might say. I gave Genya to the Queen knowing that she might be ostracised by the students who did not understand the importance of what she was doing, but I never thought … the King hadn't ever tried to touch one of my Grisha before Genya."

"Why not just remove her from the Grand Palace? Why give her the option to stay in such a situation?"

"Doesn't Genya deserve the chance to choose her own path? I was very clear that she could leave with no repercussions and she chose to stay, to complete her mission."

"Revenge," Alina whispered, thinking of what Genya had said to her, "you offered her revenge."

"I chose my path and one day soon the King will dearly regret what he has done."

"I do not take what has been done to Genya lightly, Alina. However, there are delicate plans in motion and one wrong move could send us back to a situation similar to the one that existed a few hundred years ago, when Grisha – children and adults alike – were hunted and killed for the crime of simply existing. I will not let Ravka become another Shu Han or Fjerda, Alina, I will not allow it."

"But why must Genya stay there?" Alina asked, "surely you have other spies within the Grand Palace."

"None so effective as Genya," he said, "and what would happen when the Queen demanded another Tailor. She's become used to having all her flaws erased and she will not let that go easily. There are no other Tailors – the only student who shows talents that might possibly lean in that direction is barely thirteen years old, and if she went to the Queen then there is nothing to stop history repeating itself. The King's morals are not as they should be, as I'm sure you've realised. Besides, if I try and remove Genya from her position completely then there might be accusations of disloyalty levelled at me. I cannot protect the Grisha without the power the King gives me, at least not yet."

The Darkling sounded so reasonable, so regretful. She didn't think what he said was a lie. He cared immensely for his Grisha, taking every loss personally. Still, there was a hardness to him sometimes, a sense that he believed the ends justified the means.

He wouldn't remove Genya, not if it would put everyone in the Little Palace at risk.

In a way she could understand. It was the sort of decision a General had to make. Didn't the First Army Generals do the same every day, losing half a dozen people to save a regiment, holding the power of life and death over their soldiers?

This was Genya, though. Her very best friend. It hurt so much to know what she was enduring yet to find out that there was nothing she could do to help.

She felt a tear drip down her cheek, her frustration expressing itself in sorrow.

"I will do what I can for Genya," the Darkling told her, "but I cannot promise anything, Alina."

"Maybe I should show the Grand Palace just how dangerous light can be," she muttered, only half-joking.

His mouth frowned disapprovingly, but there was something glittering darkly in his eyes that seemed to approve of her violent thoughts.

"Try not to get into any trouble while I'm away," the Darkling warned.

His voice followed her as she left the room, quiet but determined, "it will all be worth it in the end, Alina, you'll see."

Alina thought of beautiful Genya and the scars she bore that no one could see. Of a King that took and took and took and didn't really give in return. Of a war that never seemed to end. Of Grisha suffering and dying despite the Darkling's efforts.

Saints, it was a mess. And only time would tell if it was all worth it.

Alina never cared much about her birthday. The Darkling always presented her with a gift, occasionally in person but usually through one of her oprichniki, and Genya, Nadia and Marie liked to make a fuss, but it never seemed like a day of particular note to Alina herself. After all, she didn't even know the real day, only the Duke's birthday, the one all the orphans had shared.

However, she decided to do something a little different for her fourteenth birthday. Genya had been less animated than usual since Alina had discovered the horrible situation she was forced to endure, and she wanted to cheer her best friend up.

She had promised the Queen that she would perform 'a little lightshow' (the Queen's words, spoken with a condescending smile while Alina gritted her teeth) for the ladies of the Ravkan Court the next week, and in exchange Genya had been allowed the afternoon off for Alina's birthday.

It wasn't much, just a ride through the palace grounds and a small picnic, but she thought it would be a nice break for them.

The Darkling being absent, Alina had been forced to go to Ivan, as the most senior Grisha currently staying at the Little Palace, to get permission for the picnic. He had ordered that all six of her oprichniki should accompany them, together with three Grisha – Heartrender Elena, Squaller Maksim and Healer Marit. Alina didn't bother to suggest that such a guard was unnecessary considering they were still within palace walls, knowing that he'd probably revoke his permission for the excursion out of irritation or sheer spite.

In the end, though, the Darkling himself had arrived back in time to give his agreement to the outing.

He had only returned the night before, three days earlier than expected. Few in the Little Palace were aware he was in residence, but Alina knew. Somehow, she always knew when he was within the palace grounds, as if she could sense the shadows shifting when he was nearby.

He had invited her to breakfast that morning, chastising her for choosing only the sweet pastries even as he tipped what looked like half a cup of sugar into his coffee. He had handed over her gift with scarcely a word, his lips quirking upwards in the smallest smile when she thanked him for the beautiful Fabrikator-made bracelet with glittering black and gold gemstones.

Now he was ensconced in his War Room with a pile of paperwork, taking advantage of the fact that most of the occupants of the both palaces believed him to still be making his way back from his most recent trip to Balakirev.

-x-x-x-

"How did you get hold of all of these?" Genya asked as she took a bite out of a pastry, "usually I'm the one sneaking you treats from the Grand Palace. Saints, did you get the Darkling to terrify the cook?"

Alina laughed, "don't be ridiculous. Fedyor sweet-talked her into giving him a basket – you know everyone in the kitchens adores him."

"It's the smile, and the puppy dog eyes," Genya said wisely.

"Hmm," Alina agreed, "don't you ever wonder about him and Ivan, the original Mr Grumpy? Sometimes I don't understand it at all."

"Yes," Genya nodded, "but then you see them together and it's just so sweet."

She was right. Alina would never call Ivan cheerful, but he was certainly softer around the edges when he was with Fedyor. And thank the Saints for that, really – it had saved them all from multiple lectures about decorum and training over the years.

Genya lay back on the blanket they were sitting on, letting the sun warm her face.

"You'll burn if you're not careful," warned Alina, who was wearing a ridiculously large, wide-brimmed straw hat and glaring at anyone who tried to suggest it was ugly.

"I'm a Tailor, darling," Genya reminded her, "a little sunburn is easy work for me. Besides, it will cool down soon enough and I want to enjoy the sun while I can."

"How is David?" Alina asked, "have you received any other unprompted 'hellos'."

Her friend brightened, "yesterday he said 'hello', and then he said 'your hair is'."

"Your hair is what?"

"Well, he never actually finished his sentence. He got some sort of a brainwave about his latest project and entirely forgot I was there. Still, it's progress, I think. And I'm sure he was going to say something good about my hair – I mean, look at it, it's wonderful."

Genya's hair was the envy of pretty much everyone. A gorgeous shade, silky smooth, not a split end in sight and always perfectly styled. Even David would surely have something positive to say.

"I'm so pleased for you, Genya."

The Tailor smiled, but then looked a little sad, "at the rate we're going," she said gloomily, "he might hold my hand by the time we're forty."

"I'm sure it's not quite that hopeless," Alina said.

David, she thought, was leaning a little too much into the oblivious genius angle.

"Maybe you should write him a letter," she suggested, "he might write back with entire sentences."

"He does read all his correspondence carefully," Genya conceded, "the Darkling made sure that the Fabrikators all understood the importance of actually checking their post after the debacle where they entirely missed two really important orders for new combat keftas and delayed a mission to the northern front by two weeks."

Alina was about to ask how they managed to keep the Fabrikators' papers safe in their often unstable, explosive environment, but she was suddenly distracted by loud shouts coming from the palace's western boundary.

She looked up, alarmed to see a group of armed, obviously angry men moving towards them.

Alina's Fjerdan was still barely passable, despite years of lessons. Still, that didn't matter much in this case.

It was very obvious from their black and silver uniforms, Fjerdan looks and furious expressions who the intruders were.

Drüskelle.

"Drüsje," she heard them shout to each other, "döda henne."

Witch … kill her. Those words she understood perfectly.

That the men had managed to get past the guards that constantly patrolled the palace walls seemed highly suspicious. One or two perhaps, but a whole group were surely too conspicuous.

Betrayal. An inside job. It had to be that.

They were all on their feet in an instant.

"Fetch help," Dimitri shouted out to Pavel, who was the fastest rider of all of them, "go now!"

Tomek, Viktor and Leonid surrounded her as the Drüskelle moved closer.

Alina looked around worriedly, "where's Genya? Is she safe?"

"Igor has her, Lady Starkov," Tomek told her, "and she's not the target here."

Alina felt a burst of fear. She was the target here, the one who could end up with an axe in her head if they weren't careful.

For a moment she couldn't comprehend what their attackers were thinking. Twelve Drüskelle were certainly nothing to laugh about, but an assault like this on the Little Palace grounds was surely a suicide mission.

And then it hit her, as first Tomek, then Viktor and then Leonid were distracted; as Dimitri and Igor worked with the other Grisha to try and push back half a dozen of the Drüskelle; as Genya ran over and the two girls found themselves surrounded with no way to flee … a suicide mission was exactly what this was. These men didn't care if they died, as long as they took Alina down with them.

She lifted her hands, ready to call the light, but Genya reached out to stop her.

"No," the Tailor whispered, "we don't know how much information they have. They might not know which one of us is the Sun Summoner."

"Henne," one of the men pointed straight at Alina.

"Guess they know who I am," Alina said grimly, calling the light and directing a scorching beam directly at the man's face.

Self-defence, she told herself, even as she cringed when he screamed in pain.

She glanced around to see how the others were faring.

Her oprichniki, Elena, Maksim and Marit were all making a valiant effort to get to her and Genya, but their attempts were being foiled by the Drüskelle.

Alina didn't really know what sort of training the Fjerdan Grisha hunters received, but they clearly knew how to divide and distract a group of opponents. Somehow, in the chaos, Alina and Genya had ended up on one side of the field, surrounded by Drüskelle, while all of their guards were on the other side. The only good news was that Pavel had managed to escape unharmed to find some assistance and the number of Drüskelle was down from twelve to eight.

"I might be able to get you a clear path," Genya told her.

Alina looked at her, wide-eyed, "Genya, no!"

"I may not be in your lessons but I've learnt plenty from Botkin on my own time," the Tailor insisted.

"That's not it," she shook her head, "I'm sure you're plenty capable. But I don't want people to die for me."

"You're the Sun Summoner, Alina."

"And you are my best friend."

"There are too many," Genya insisted, trying to push Alina behind her.

They heard a scream come from the side and looked to see Maksim on the floor, blood pooling around him. Tomek and Leonid were both limping and Igor's arm looked like it was twisted at an odd angle.

Three Drüskelle came charging towards her and Genya. One was stopped in his tracks when Alina sent a beam of light at him that burnt his legs and made him fall to the ground. The other collapsed when Genya produced a dagger and threw it with impressive accuracy straight into the man's chest. It wasn't likely that either man would die of their injuries but they were certainly out of action for the moment.

Unfortunately, the final attacker was coming straight for them, with a fierce expression that suggested he wouldn't be put off by burns.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

She tried to blind him but he dodged the light. She attempted to burn him but he moved out of the way.

Alina had been told before that she might master the Cut after years of practice, or that it might instead take one moment of desperate need.

This was that moment, as an axe came ever closer to her neck.

Her light formed a blade, almost without her thinking about it, and then suddenly the man in front of her was on the floor, the top half of his body cleanly severed from the bottom half.

She touched one hand to her damp cheek and when she looked at her fingers, they were stained red. Immediately, she began to wipe her face with the sleeve of her kefta, desperate to get evidence of her attacker's death off her skin.

I killed him. I killed him. I killed him.

She couldn't stop the train of her thoughts. Logically, she knew she had only protected herself from someone who wished her dead, but still … she had never killed anyone before.

Alina felt Genya wrap her arms around her, heard shouting and the sound of horses galloping towards them.

She looked up to see Pavel had returned with the Darkling himself and four more oprichniki.

As he jumped off his horse, the shadows became a blade in the Darkling's hand almost instantly. He aimed that blade in a wide arc, slicing all but one of the surviving Drüskelle into pieces in the blink of an eye.

Even in her shock, Alina couldn't help but marvel at the way he used his powers. She had become far more comfortable with summoning light since she had arrived at the Little Palace years previously, but the Darkling used the shadows like an extension of himself, wielding the Cut with an ease that could only have been borne of decades of practice.

In the background, Alina noticed that Marit was working on Maksim, her movements quick but not frantic enough to suggest Maksim's wounds were fatal. Her oprichniki were assisting each other with their injuries.

She saw the Darkling nod to Elena, who twisted her hands in the direction of the sole surviving Fjerdan. The man slumped unconscious to the floor, his axe falling to the ground next to him.

Alina looked back at the body in front of her. The man she had killed in the space of only a second.

I did that, she thought, my hands, my light.

A few moments passed and then she realised that the Darkling had crossed the distance between them to stand in front of her.

"Look at me, Alina," he commanded, "at me," he repeated, softly but forcefully, when she swayed slightly as she looked again at the corpse barely a few steps away.

"I …" she trailed off, unable to vocalise her thoughts.

She had always known that her light could be a weapon, but she'd never had to use it in such a violent way before, had never had to kill someone to defend herself.

"You did what you had to," the Darkling told her, eyeing the body dispassionately.

"No one has ever tried to kill me before," Alina whispered after a moment of silence.

For a few seconds she thought he hadn't heard her, but then he sighed quietly, "there have been just over a dozen attempts since news of your arrival spread," he told her, "they've just never got further than the gates."

She felt a flare of anger that no one had ever bothered to tell her. But perhaps it was better that way – it would have only caused her anxiety, given her nightmares.

"Is this my life now?" she asked, "assassins around every corner."

The Darkling shrugged almost wearily, "you get used to it."

He sounded bored, as if assassinations were nothing special. Then again, he was the Darkling, a regular target of assassination attempts by fools who probably had death wishes.

Alina, on the other hand, did not find the experience something to be so easily brushed aside.

"I don't want to get used to it."

She was almost embarrassed by how fragile and shaky her voice was, and by the tears that pooled in the corners of her eyes.

"I do understand how you feel, Alina," he sounded gentle, as if he was trying to soothe, "but you cannot avoid who you are."

She could flee. Run and run and run until she found some small corner of the world where no one had even heard of the Sun Summoner.

What kind of life would that be, though, always on edge, always hiding?

And could she really live with herself if she didn't try and stop the bloody, endless wars that plagued Ravka?

Alina found herself shepherded towards one of the horses, sharing it with Genya so that they could head back to the palace.

The oprichniki that had come with the Darkling stayed where they were to deal with the bodies, while the rest fanned out in a formation that clearly surrounded Alina and Genya's horse, eyes alert for any further threats.

She didn't really pay much attention to the short journey back to the Little Palace, lost in thought about what had just happened.

"I'm sorry about the picnic," she told Genya after a few minutes, "not exactly the day I had planned."

Genya laughed incredulously, "I really don't think you need to apologise. It was certainly distracting, if not entirely in the way we wanted. And at least we got to eat the pastries."

"I just wanted a nice day for us both," Alina sighed.

The Tailor shook her head, "a group of Drüskelle try to kill you and that's what you're concerned about?"

"I'm concerned about the assassins too. I just … don't really like thinking about how many people seem to want me dead."

"We'll look after you, Alina. We'll protect you."

"I know, but please don't try and sacrifice yourself for me," Alina said, shuddering slightly as she remembered how easily Genya had offered to clear a path for her at the expense of her own life.

"Oh, Alina," Genya wrapped her arms further around her in a tight hug, "you're my best friend. I'd do that even if you weren't the Sun Summoner."

Alina felt a warm rush of affection for the Tailor, even as the guilt rose inside her as she remembered how proximity to her put Genya in so much danger.

"Breathe, Alina," her friend told her, "we'll be back at the Little Palace soon and then we can relax in your room for a while."

Yes, a rest. That was what she needed right now.

The adrenaline that had kept her alert during the attack was wearing off now and she felt tired and scared.

She just wanted to get somewhere comfortable and familiar and forget for a little while that the outside world existed.

Later, after she had been ushered back to her room and had collapsed onto her bed for two hours, physically and mentally exhausted, she realised Genya was pulling out a clean kefta for her.

Alina looked at the clock and realised what time it was.

"Do I really need to go to dinner, Genya?" she asked, as she sat at her dressing table.

She looked down at her hands again. She had been doing that frequently ever since the earlier attack. She still couldn't quite believe what she had managed to do with her power.

"Yes," the Tailor answered as she ran her fingers through Alina's hair, removing all the knots and tangles as she went, "you really do."

No further explanation was forthcoming and Alina didn't want to pester her friend for one, so she simply remained quiet as Genya styled her hair.

Half an hour later, when she entered the dining room, Genya on her heels, the first thing Alina noticed was the total silence.

The second was that the Darkling's chair was filled.

She barely stopped herself from gaping. She had been at the Little Palace for almost six years and, while she had occasionally eaten with him in his quarters, she had never seen the Darkling join his Grisha for a meal in the dining room.

Alina only realised she had come to a sudden halt, frozen in the doorway, when Genya gave her a little push.

"Go," she whispered, "there's a chair for you."

There was, in fact, a new chair next to the Darkling's. It was similar to his, although there were golden sunbursts worked into the design.

She was sure that the chair hadn't been there that morning.

She walked the short distance to the chair, her chair, trying very hard to act as if everyone wasn't watching her.

"Alina," the Darkling nodded his head in her direction as she sat down, "I trust you are feeling better after this afternoon's … incident."

"Yes, thank you."

It was technically true. She was feeling better than she had been earlier. However, she was still a little shaken.

He watched as she shoved her slightly trembling hands under the table. As always, his keen eyes seemed to see everything. Still, he didn't challenge her words and she was grateful for that.

"So, did you feel like herring, rye bread and absolute silence for dinner tonight?" she asked.

He almost smiled, "it is important to be seen on certain occasions, especially following an assassination attempt such as this. Rumours have the potential to get out of control and it's best for everyone to see their General and their Sun Summoner are both entirely unharmed."

"How are the others? I didn't think anyone was seriously hurt but I was a bit distracted."

"The Drüskelle were the only fatalities," the Darkling confirmed, "the Healers saw to everyone else."

"And the surviving attacker?"

She wasn't sure she really wanted to know the answer. However, she didn't want to hide from what had happened either. She had been the one attacked and she felt it was important that she knew what had become of the man.

The Darkling's lips curled upwards into an unkind smile, "he won't be bothering you again, Alina."

"I didn't expect he would," she said, proud of how calm she sounded, "did you discover how the Drüskelle got passed the guards."

His expression darkened considerably and she saw two or three of the Grisha sitting near them edge backwards almost involuntarily.

"It seems the Grand Palace are not as rigorous when employing their guards as they should be. The matter has been dealt with."

She opened her mouth to ask how, exactly, it had been dealt with, but he shot her a severe look that made her think better about asking. It was clear that the Darkling was deeply unhappy about the fact that the Little Palace's security had been breached, and also that he was unwilling to discuss with her what he had done to ensure such a thing never happened again.

They ate the rest of their dinner in silence.

While the conversation did pick up a little among the Grisha seated around them, it was definitely stilted and nervous.

The Darkling stood to leave before the rest of them. She had to smile to herself, despite the stress of the day, when she heard his quiet order to one of the servants to take his dessert to his quarters. Clearly, his sweet tooth was not something he wished the Second Army and students to be aware of.

Alina managed another few minutes once the Darkling had left, before she too stood to leave. Genya appeared next to her as if conjured from thin air, as did Fedyor.

She looked around and was rather relieved to see that Ivan must have gone with the Darkling. She felt worn down and very much not in the mood to endure the company of the Second Army's most formidable Heartrender.

Fedyor and Genya were far better company on the walk back to her room. Between them, they managed to lighten the mood considerably with a series of amusing stories.

Fedyor bid them good evening when they reached Alina's room, wrapping an arm around each of them and pulling them into a quick hug, "I'm glad you're both alright."

Genya followed her through the door, "I thought I'd spend the night, after all the excitement."

Relief coursed through Alina. She had dreaded being left alone and it would be much better to have her best friend around.

"The Queen didn't insist on you returning to the Grand Palace?"

"The Darkling promised to speak with her. If I'd asked myself she would certainly have refused, but she fancies our General something terrible – she flirts with him outrageously, you know – and I think she honestly believes that he'll spare her some attention if she agrees to his little requests."

Alina grimaced. She hadn't spent much time with the Queen, but she knew the woman hadn't been treating Genya well recently. It appeared she also had as little regard for the marital vow of fidelity as the King did. They probably deserved each other.

They got ready for bed quickly, an unspoken agreement between them that they would try and sleep, despite the fact that it was still quite early. It had been a difficult day and the last thing either of them wanted was to do anything requiring concentration.

"Genya," she said quietly as the older girl climbed into one side of the bed, "I could have died this afternoon. You could have died."

Genya's hand found hers and squeezed tightly, "you're ok, Alina. We both are."

"I knew the dangers. Saints, I've known for years. Everyone talks about the safety protocols so often it's become normal. But I don't think I ever really understood, not until today."

It still seemed almost like a dream. She thought back and the fight was mostly a blur. However, the one thing she clearly remembered was how she had sliced a man in half with just a twist of her hands.

It shouldn't be that easy, should it? She knew he was a threat, was well aware that his goal was to murder her. Still, it seemed mad how much damage she had done without a weapon in her hands.

Your hands are the weapons, her mind whispered.

"I can hear you thinking," Genya said, "you don't need to be sorry about what you did. Those Drüskelle were monsters."

"It's just all so … overwhelming," Alina admitted.

"Try and sleep," Genya suggested, "remember that you saved yourself, and you saved me too. Everything will be better in the morning."

Although it took a little while, Alina did fall asleep eventually.

It was an uneasy slumber, though, as images of the Drüskelle invaded her dreams, scene after scene of everything that could have gone wrong, of everyone who could have died.

She tossed and turned, until she felt Genya wake too, and lay one of her hands on Alina's arm.

In an instant she felt more relaxed, calmer. She looked at the Tailor with a raised eyebrow.

"My abilities do fit best into the Corporalki order," Genya shrugged, "I haven't really developed my skills in that area, but I can calm someone a little, even if not as efficiently as a Heartrender could."

"Thank you," she tried to smile gratefully, but she imagined it came out more like a grimace.

"Sleep, Alina," Genya whispered, "we're ok."

She slept.

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.

The next chapter is another Genya Interlude (covering this chapter and a little bit after). It should be out next Tuesday.