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.

The poetry quoted here is from Sonnet 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

War Matters

Alina found herself rushing to the Little Palace Infirmary on her sixteenth Birthday.

She was supposed to have been spending the day with Genya, Marie and Nadia, but they had been interrupted mid-morning by news that two soldiers of the Second Army had been injured seriously enough that they had been returned as quickly as possible for treatment at the Little Palace.

It was sad news but not unusual. A lot of injuries could be treated by Healers in the field, but the most serious wounds required more prolonged treatment. The difference, in this case, was that one of the injured Grisha was Fedyor.

Alina felt dizzy when they told her and she barely heard what was being said apart from a few terrifying words.

Blood loss. Severe trauma. Possible infection.

She ran all the way to the Infirmary, Genya close behind, to find two Healers and three students working on Fedyor, while Ivan sat in the corner of the room with his head in his hands.

Neither of them had ever seen the intimidating Heartrender look so starkly human. It was more than a little disturbing.

And Fedyor … he was so pale, so still. His eyes were closed and there was no trace of his usual cheerful smile.

Ivan looked up when they entered, eyes slightly bloodshot, though there was no trace of tears to be seen.

"Is he … is he going to be alright?" Genya asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"He'll be fine," one of the Healers answered, "he'll have to stay here for a week or so, and he'll need to be out of the field for at least a month, but the Field Healers did good work and there shouldn't be any issues now."

Relief coursed through Alina. She didn't really remember her parents and she had never had siblings but, similar to how Genya was a best friend and sister rolled into one, Fedyor was the closest thing she had to an older brother and his loss would devastate her.

"What happened?"

"Fjerdans," Ivan told them tersely, before spitting out a series of swear words that made the older Healer give him a very sharp look, "an ambush on our side of the border."

"Well, I hope they paid for it," Genya murmured.

Ivan's eyes glittered with rage, "oh, they did."

Alina could see bloodlust in his eyes and she knew for certain that none of their attackers had survived the fight. She was fiercely glad of that.

"Come on, now, you two," one of the Healers came over, "Mr Kaminsky needs peace and quiet to recover. You can come back in a few days to visit."

Alina noticed that no one made an attempt to try and get Ivan out of the room. A wise move really, since she knew the Heartrender would have refused point blank to leave and, with the Darkling still away, Ivan was the most senior and intimidating Grisha in residence in the Little Palace.

The last thing anyone needed right now was for him to knock out all the Infirmary personnel because they tried to kick him out of Fedyor's room.

"Bye, Fedyor, get better soon," she and Genya chimed in unison, not sure if he was even conscious but wanting to pass on their best wishes in any event.

Ivan glared, clearly thinking they were disturbing his husband's rest.

"Ok, ok, we're going," Alina put her hands up in a peace gesture, before tugging Genya out the door.

"He'll be fine," she said as they walked back to her room.

She refused to let it be a question. The Healers had said Fedyor would be alright and she refused to think otherwise.

"Of course he will," Genya agreed with a nod.

They both crossed their fingers anyway. Just in case.

-x-x-x-

Two days later, Alina returned to the Infirmary alone, Genya having been called to assist the Queen.

As she entered, she saw Ivan reading out loud from a book, his deep voice gentler than she had ever heard it.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace."

Poetry. Ivan was reading from a poetry book.

Reading it very well, she had to admit.

Still, nothing about the scene in front of her really fit in with her image of the stern Heartrender.

But this was Fedyor, after all, and if Ivan was going to be soft for anyone then it would be for the man lying propped up on a pile of fluffy pillows, a soft smile on his face.

Alina coughed quietly, knowing that Ivan would absolutely hate it if she witnessed him displaying too much sentimentality.

In only a few seconds he had dropped the book out of sight and turned around to level her with a fierce stare.

"No intimidating Alina, moyu lyubov," Fedyor said as he reached out to entwine his hand with Ivan's.

It surprised Alina that Ivan was allowing such a thing. Everyone knew about him and Fedyor, but they were usually extremely private with any displays of affection.

"I can sit with Fedyor if you want to take a break," she offered.

And take a bath, she thought to herself. She wasn't stupid enough to say that out loud, though. It looked as if Ivan hadn't even tried to get properly clean since his return from the front. Every room in the Little Palace contained small devices designed by the Fabrikators to keep the air smelling fresh, but even they couldn't mask the smell of blood and dirt coming from Ivan.

Alina idly wondered if the Healers had attempted to get him to freshen up, or if they hadn't even dared to try when his temper was so short. Almost certainly the latter.

Ivan looked extremely reluctant to leave, but Fedyor gave him a soft smile, "you've barely slept for the last week, moyu lyubov. You deserve to rest."

"Fine," Ivan said shortly, after a few moments of silence.

He stood, giving Alina a death stare that said if I come back and there is anything at all wrong then they won't ever find your body.

"Thank the Saints," Fedyor whispered after Ivan had left, "I love that man more than anything, and he really does read poetry divinely, but the smell these past two days …"

Alina grinned, "you could have just told him."

Fedyor shook his head, "he would have been so hurt. Besides, I was enjoying the poetry – I can't often persuade him to read it to me."

"Now," he said, "tell me everything that's been going on while I was away."

They spent a happy three hours talking and laughing together as Alina relayed all the Little Palace gossip to Fedyor.

Marie was still saying she and Sergei were just friends. Nadia was seeing a quiet Alkemi a year older than them. Botkin had taught them a new move in combat training which enabled slender Alina to flip one of the tall, broad Inferni. Baghra was apparently in a good mood and hadn't smacked anyone with her cane in four days (that rumour wasn't confirmed and seemed fairly hard to believe). Nina had come back briefly for a break from her secretive mission in Ketterdam and had consumed such an obscene number of waffles in one sitting that there was talk of giving her a commemorative plaque.

"And Genya's actually been on a date with David," she told him.

"What!"

"Well … sort of."

Fedyor looked confused, "how does one 'sort of' go on a date."

"Technically it was a trip to check on one of the Fabrikator projects stored out by the lake – just in case they need to douse any fires again – but they went on a walk in the gardens to get there and he gave her a flower so I'm counting it as a date."

"We need to keep our standards low when it comes to David," Fedyor nodded his agreement, "I swear that boy lives in an entirely different world to the rest of us. It's not exactly uncommon for the Materialki to be a bit oblivious to the world outside their work, but he takes it to the extreme."

Ivan came back as they were trying to decide how they could help David realise what was right in front of him.

He certainly looked much better, a little more rested and infinitely cleaner. Although he had decided to be polite enough not to insist that she leave immediately, Alina could tell he wanted to have Fedyor to himself again.

"I better go," she said, "I've got an essay to finish for tomorrow."

Fedyor reached out to squeeze her hand affectionately, "it was good to see you, Alina."

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she told him, smiling happily at how much he'd improved since he had first returned to the Little Palace.

"You can come back tomorrow if you want," Ivan added gruffly.

"Thanks," she said sincerely, since she knew the concession was one that it was hard for him to make.

Alina waved on her way out but they were already entirely engrossed in each other.

Ivan could be an absolute pain but, Saints, he and Fedyor really could be beyond adorable together.

She closed the door quietly behind her as she left and decided to go and find Genya, planning on professing a sudden desire to visit the Fabrikator Workshop.

It was never too early to start putting into action her and Fedyor's matchmaking ideas.

"Alina, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing here?"

"Err, skinning a rabbit."

She thought it was fairly self-explanatory, but Genya seemed entirely baffled to find her in the kitchen.

"Why?" asked the Tailor.

"Oh, well," Alina blushed slightly, "it occurred to me recently that I don't actually know how to do anything more complicated than make tea and sandwiches. I thought I should learn some survival skills, just in case."

Genya shook her head, "Alina, unless you're planning on doing something ridiculous like hiking through the forest alone, you'll never need to know anything like this."

"But Marie was telling me all about the survival class she and Nadia did in preparation for any future postings. How to set traps, what plants and mushrooms are safe to eat, things like that. Why didn't I do that class? It wasn't ever on my schedule."

"You had all that reading to do," Genya reminded her, "teaching you about statecraft and military strategy. Besides, you won't be going to either the Fjerdan or Shu front, nor will you be spying in Kerch or Novyi Zem. And when you go to the Shadow Fold you'll be with the Darkling and plenty of guards – you won't need to hunt your own food."

"It seems like a useful skill to have anyway," Alina countered, "and the Darkling can do it. I remember hearing some of the other Grisha saying he helps them hunt when he's on campaign."

"Well, he had to learn as a child, before he took over from the last Darkling. But you're our Sun Summoner, Alina, we're not about to put you in danger or leave you in the middle of nowhere to fend for yourself."

"Still, there's no harm in –"

"Nope," Genya began putting all the items away, picking up the half-skinned rabbit with a grimace and handing it to one of the kitchen staff, "we don't have the time. The banya is empty for the first time in ages and we absolutely need a good steam."

"Alright, alright," she agreed.

It wouldn't do any harm to make a quick trip to the banya. She could always finish learning how to skin and cook a rabbit another day.

The Darkling had returned from his recent campaign clearly frustrated.

From what she gathered, there had been no major losses, but the constant small skirmishes were wearing on him. He had only come back to the Little Palace now that Ivan and Fedyor's period of leave had come to an end and the two of them could go back into the field.

As was usual when he returned from a period of months away, the Darkling had spent the first few days ensconced in his office dealing with a mountain of paperwork and then the tedious task of reporting to the King, who always expected too much and never offered enough resources.

Now, though, four days after his return, he had spent a few hours training with Alina in the clearing in the forest surrounding the Little Palace.

It had been a fairly successful session. He had beaten her, of course, but she had held him back for almost fifteen minutes and there was a spring in her step when they arrived back at the War Room, where he was going to give her a few basic reports to read as part of her training in how the running of the Second Army functioned.

Unfortunately, the reports lowered her mood considerably.

Supply issues, problems with First Army soldiers who were hostile to the Second Army, Fjerdan and Shu soldiers venturing further than usual into Ravkan territory, and always having to spread the Second Army Grisha too thinly to keep them as safe as would be ideal.

"I want to help," she told the Darkling when she was finished with the reports, "I should be helping."

He put down his papers and looked over at her, "and what exactly is your plan, Alina?"

"I … I could go with the skiffs through the Fold, help bring supplies back safely."

"The Sun Summoner being used as a glorified night light," the Darkling retorted coldly, "I think not. You cannot spend all your time going back and forth through the Fold – it is a waste of your abilities and a threat to your safety."

"I just want to do something," she protested, "if I could only –"

"No, Alina."

His words sounded very final, but she pushed anyway. He had let her see some of his reports now and she knew how many skiffs were entirely lost in the Fold or came back with only half their crew.

"Just a small corridor to Novokribirsk," she suggested, "enough to let supplies through but not armies."

"We've spoken about this," he said, an irritated note in his voice, "you aren't strong enough yet."

Once, his words would have stung. Now she knew he was simply stating facts – she might be powerful but the Shadow Fold was the product of merzost, something far out of the realms of Alina's experience.

"If I could practice, maybe at the edge of the Fold."

"Alina," he gave her a hard look, "the Fold is not like normal shadows. The energy and power you would have to expend simply to cross it would exhaust you, let alone trying to destroy it. And I will not have you putting yourself in that sort of danger."

She fell silent. It was never wise to annoy the Darkling, especially when it came to the Fold. He was probably right, anyway – if her light faltered in the Fold, even for a few seconds, then it could be deadly for her and anyone else with her.

The Darkling sighed then. There were no dark circles under his eyes, nor were there any signs that he was anything less than fully alert, but he seemed, if not tired then a little worn down.

"There is talk of uprising in West Ravka," he admitted.

"Civil war?" she asked, eyes wide, "surely not."

His expression turned dark, "our own people, turning their backs on us."

The lights in the room dimmed as his shadows spread, "our foolish King spends and spends on his hideous palace. His fool of an heir throws away money on horses. The army never has enough. And all the while, as Shu Han and Fjerda circle us and wait to spot weakness, Ravkans are turning on Ravkans, turning against the Grisha who have protected them for so long."

The shadows became almost oppressive and Alina put her hands out to call the light and dissipate them.

"You are not alone," she promised, "we can find a way to unite Ravka."

"They will never fully trust me," the Darkling said after a moment, "to them I will always be a descendant of the most hated Grisha in Ravka. No matter how I help protect Ravka's borders, despite the lives that my Grisha help save. I am only ever a reminder of the problem."

He looked as young as he always did, like he was only ten years older than Alina, but his expression was a bleak one and his eyes seemed ancient in that moment.

Alina remembered the journal she had read, the one that had suggested that the Black Heretic had not been what the stories suggested.

Ravka was generally considered the best country for Grisha. They had to serve in the Second Army, but that was usually better than death or experimentation or indenture. Still, even in Ravka there were many misconceptions and damaging rumours about the Grisha. The otkazat'sya nearly universally considered the Darkling to be almost the devil incarnate, thanks to his ancestor's creation of the Fold, despite the fact that his work as General of the Second Army had saved countless Ravkan lives over the years.

"They don't understand," she said, "but we'll show them. We'll deal with the Fold and they'll see the truth."

He shook his head,"you are so young, Alina. You live in a single moment. I live in a thousand. The same cycle repeats itself, the same old fears come back. The Fold is not the problem here."

She thought she knew what he meant, the words he didn't say. The Darkling had always been very clear that he considered most otkazat'sya to be potential threats. There were some, like the oprichniki, who trusted the Grisha, and who understood the importance of his work. But many were superstitious sheep, easily led by someone like the Apparat. What she didn't know was what he believed was the best way forward to erase the persecution of the Grisha.

Part of Alina wished he would confide in her about his plans so that she could understand the risks, the stakes, the aims, all of the nuances she couldn't quite figure out herself. The other part of her baulked at the idea of knowing more – she was already weighted down by the responsibility she felt and she sometimes wondered how the Darkling managed to carry such a heavy burden alone.

He called her young and it was true. Perhaps she might have been offended, but she knew he wasn't calling her a child, he was simply stating a fact. She was sixteen years old and his experience was far, far greater than hers.

She trusted him. Not with everything, not entirely – she might not know him as well as some would think but she certainly knew enough to be at least a little wary of the charismatic, powerful man who ruled the Grisha. Still, she was sure he had the best interests of the Grisha at heart.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. She'd read that somewhere, perhaps even in the Darkling's personal library. But no, she was confident that the Darkling wouldn't lead them to ruin, he loved the Grisha and Ravka far too much for that.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

He looked at her and his expression softened slightly, "you already do, Alina. Your very existence is … it's something I dreamed of for a very long time."

Throughout her time at the Little Palace, Alina had seen people look at her light with delight, shock, fear, joy and greed. However, no one had ever looked as the Darkling did in the occasional unguarded moments she witnessed – with a hopeful awe that made her feel like the most special person in the world.

"It won't be long," he continued, "a new age is coming, Alina. Soon the Grisha will be free."

He stood there, his beautiful face illuminated by the light coming in from the window. In the moment, Alina thought he looked far more like a saint than she ever had.

The Darkling. Patron Saint of the Grisha.

Who knew, perhaps one day people might pray to him.

Alina was back in the Little Palace kitchen.

Having successfully skinned her rabbit without Genya turning up to entice her over to the banya, one of the more patient assistant cooks was now showing her the best way to cook it with minimal equipment.

She knew the kitchen staff probably thought her ridiculous. A girl of sixteen – the Sun Summoner, for Saints' sake – who could just about boil water for tea and put some cheese in between two thick slices of bread. Most Grisha weren't terribly useful in the kitchen, since their talents were far better used elsewhere, but even they could manage to make a basic meal if stuck in the forest for a day or two without rations.

Still, no one ever laughed at her to her face, and they were all very kind. She hoped it was because they liked her and not just because she was the Sun Summoner, but she didn't know for sure and hadn't the courage to ask.

"Very good, Lady Starkov," said Masha, the warm and motherly assistant cook who was helping her, "it smells lovely."

Alina was pleased to say that Masha wasn't flattering her. The aroma of the rabbit stew really was making her mouth water. She wished they had dishes like that more often rather than so much herring.

She ladled some out, proud of her accomplishment, and handed it to Masha with a smile before she sorted out her own bowl.

"A very good first attempt," the cook confirmed as the two of them ate in companionable silence.

They were just soaking up the dregs of the stew with some rye bread when a small girl, about five or six, ran over to them to hug Masha's leg.

"Mama, mama," she brandished a small doll with a happy grin, "look what Alexei gave me."

"How beautiful, Ana," Masha smiled at her daughter, "but don't be rude. Say hello to Lady Starkov."

Little Ana's eyes went wide, "mama, it's Sankta Alina."

"Ana," her mother rebuked her sharply.

"It's ok," Alina said, "I don't mind."

She didn't like the title of Sankta, or all the associated pressures, but she couldn't begrudge such an adorable child her excitement.

"Can … can I see your light?" asked Ana.

Masha looked concerned, "I'm so sorry, Lady Starkov. She's a little too bold sometimes."

"It's alright," Alina smiled softly, cupping her hands together and summoning a small globe of light.

Ana clapped excitedly, "mama, look, look."

"I see, dorogoy," Masha hugged the girl close, "say thank you to Lady Starkov."

"Thank you, Lady Starkov," Ana chirped with a charming, dimpled smile, before running over to another corner of the room, where she began chattering excitedly to a young boy about the same age.

"She's so sweet," Alina smiled at Masha.

"You're very kind, Lady Starkov."

"I quite like children," Alina said, "they're … uncomplicated."

It was true. For the most part what you saw was what you got. Ana's childish enthusiasm about her light was a thousand times better than the Apparat's almost insane religious fervour or the King's covetous gaze, and it lacked the lacked the weight of the stares her power garnered from the other Grisha.

"Shall I wash up," Alina offered, looking at the dirty bowls.

That, at least, was something she didn't need to be taught. Orphans at Keramzin assisted in basic household jobs from a young age and, while she no longer had to do any such thing at the Little Palace, the chore was not at all a difficult one.

"Thank you, Lady Starkov," Masha nodded her head, "and perhaps if you have time then I can show you the different edible berries and mushrooms you might find in the forest."

"I'd be very grateful," Alina agreed eagerly.

It wasn't like she ever planned to be wandering the forest alone, but there was nothing wrong with being prepared.

"Tell me what you see. The flaws, the weak spots."

The Darkling had invited her to the War Room for a few hours. They had spent a little while discussing her lessons and now he asked her to consider the huge map that covered the table.

It had to be a test of some sort. Alina couldn't imagine that she could tell him anything he didn't already know.

She could feel the Darkling's eyes on her as she walked around the table, trying to spot any problems on the map.

Haltingly, she pointed out a military post that seemed too big for the relatively peaceful area it was in. She noted three weak spots along the Fjerdan border and two on the Shu Han one.

"Good," he nodded, "now tell me more."

She looked at one outpost, which was marked with a symbol that suggested they lost an unusually high number of soldiers. It was in between Caryeva and one of the thinner sections of the Fold.

"They try to desert from the army?" she suggested, "a shorter journey through the Fold to get to the True Sea."

"Fools," he observed coldly, "without a proper skiff those journeys fail nine times out ten, despite it being a shorter crossing than the one that goes from Kribirsk."

Alina shivered at the thought, at the image in her head of a dark route strewn with the bones of those who tried to cross without proper precautions.

She looked away from the map marker, letting her gaze drift elsewhere as she tried to point out other weak spots – too few soldiers or not enough, a wasteful General who took far too many resources and whose men offered meagre returns, a dangerous route filled with bandits, an encampment vulnerable to surprise attacks from Shu soldiers.

"You've certainly been keeping up with your reading," he noted, sounding pleased.

She smiled a little nervously and ducked her head. Compliments from the Darkling were both rare and welcome, but they also made her unusually bashful.

"No need to be embarrassed, Alina. You manage your work far better than our esteemed King."

He sneered the last two words, his feelings about their King very clear.

"Why do you serve a king you despise, one you cannot respect?" she asked.

He tsked softly at her, "you know the answer, Alina."

"There is no serious alternative?" she tried.

"I rule the Second Army with the King's agreement. The Little Palace is a Grisha refuge only because he commands it. For the moment, his favour must be kept if we are to avoid a return to the dark days when Grisha were hunted like animals throughout Ravka."

The anger in his voice made her shudder. Even just reading about those times in the books she found in both the main library and the Darkling's personal one made her sorrowful and furious at the same time. Children and adults alike murdered in horrific ways simply for being Grisha, without any consideration for the good they might have done with their gifts.

There was a knock on the door before she could say anything and the Darkling looked up, any trace of emotion gone, "enter."

The messenger hurried in with a sealed letter, passing it on and scurrying out of the room as soon as possible.

Alina looked on in interest as the Darkling opened the letter and scanned the contents. He looked very pleased by what he read and she knew it must be good news.

"The trackers have found and captured Morozova's Stag," he told her, his satisfaction clear, "we will leave at first light tomorrow to meet them on their return journey – you must claim your amplifier as quickly as possible."

Her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure at the news. However, she felt a rising panic too, since she had never found any references in all the books she had read on how an amplifier was claimed – should the animal be killed a certain way, was there some sort of ritual involved?

The Darkling sensed her panic, as he always did, "the claiming of an amplifier is instinctive," he told her, "you will understand when you see the stag."

"Now go," he continued, "You do not want to be late for your lesson with Baghra. I will arrange for Genya to assist you with packing what you will need. You must not speak of this to anyone else, though, Alina – do you understand?"

She nodded. It would do them no good if the King knew what they were doing as he was sure to interfere in an attempt to gain benefit for himself. Grand Palace spies never lasted long at the Little Palace, but you couldn't be too careful when it came to important information like this.

"I will see you in the morning," he said as she moved towards the door, "very soon you will have your amplifier. We are going to do great things together, solntse, I promise."

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.

The next chapter should be out next Friday.