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.
There will be two Winter Fetes in this story. One is this chapter, when Alina is sixteen, and the other will be when she is seventeen. The second one will be where Darklina properly begins.
The Winter Fete
The Winter Fete had never really interested Alina before.
Considered by the King and Queen to be the biggest event of the year, it was barely tolerated by the Grisha at the Little Palace, who disliked wasting hours of time practicing what amounted to party tricks, or having to use the Fabrikator workshop not for inventions that might actually assist them but to create fancy fireworks and decorations.
Younger Grisha students never attended the event and Alina, who didn't enjoy the idea of being stuck in a crowd of people who all wanted to grasp at her hair and clothes and ask for the Sun Summoner's blessing, had never been bothered by having to stay quietly in her room at the Little Palace when past Winter Fetes had gone on.
This year was different, though. This time, as a prelude to her visit to the Fold, she was apparently going to be the star performer.
"Only don't call it 'performing' when you're anywhere near the Darkling," Genya warned her, "he thinks the Winter Fete is a giant waste of Grisha time."
Alina definitely agreed with him. Surely her upcoming trip to the Fold would be demonstration enough of her abilities?
The Tailor rolled her eyes when Alina voiced this opinion, "you know the King, he will gladly waste enough resources to feed a city for months just so he can look impressive to his court and the ambassadors. He wants to remind everyone that he has the Sun Summoner in his city, as if he can take any credit for you."
Genya nearly knocked over one of the glass vials from her kit as she spoke angrily about the King, although she was thankfully quick enough to save it from falling and smashing.
"He hasn't … how has the Grand Palace been?" Alina asked carefully.
Her friend relaxed slightly, "the Queen has been an absolute harridan. She's obsessed with looking her best for the Fete, but what she wants is going to make her look completely unnatural. I hope there won't be any small children around because she'll absolutely terrify them. The Darkling has kept the King busy preparing for the ambassadors and discussing the trip through the Fold and how to deal with General Zlatan."
She paused for a moment to take a breath and Alina took her hand, "he came to my room once a week and a half ago," Genya continued, squeezing Alina's hand so tightly it was almost painful, "but I haven't seen him since."
"I can accidentally blind him during the Winter Fete performance, if you want," Alina offered.
She was rewarded with a small smile from Genya, "that's sweet of you, but we don't need that kind of trouble right now. I'll deal with the King soon enough."
Sometimes she wanted to ask the Tailor what her plans were for the King. It was probably better not to know, though, if only so it would be easier to put on a mask of shock and grief when the inevitable time came.
And it would come. Fairly quickly too, if Genya's vicious, anticipatory smile was any indication.
Alina wasn't generally a violent person, but when it came to the King, when she remembered all Genya had endured, she hoped he suffered.
Alina was in the Throne Room at the Grand Palace with David and a number of other Fabrikators going through the steps of her performance.
She was going to be on a dais the whole time, but David and his team had been installing a number of Fabrikator-made mirrors high above them for part of Alina's demonstration. Now she looked up as David pointed them out, all while mumbling at top speed about how they were designed and made. She could only catch one in every five or six words, but it sounded very clever and she smiled at him, grateful for all the work he had done.
She wished Genya could have been with her, to have the chance for a little time with David, but the Tailor was busy all day with the Queen, whose mood was currently so high-strung that it wasn't wise to risk her wrath by asking for Genya to have some extra free time.
All six of her oprichniki had accompanied her to the Grand Palace and they were stationed at all the entrances to the Throne Room, ready to ensure Alina and the Fabrikators were not disturbed.
The servants of both palaces knew better than to challenge an oprichnik, but the Darkling was apparently concerned that the Apparat might use her visit as an opportunity to accost her with more ravings about her saintly duties.
From the bits and pieces Alina heard from Marie and Nadia, the almost cult-like following across Ravka that centred around the Sun Summoner was still going strong, encouraged and led by the Apparat.
Sankta Alina they called her. She never felt like a saint, though. She embraced her power, loved her light, but she had never wanted to have sainthood foisted upon her. Saints never had a happy ending, after all, and she was well aware of how easily adoration could turn to hatred, how people turned on their idols when they realised they weren't gods but simply people with flaws.
She turned her attention back to David, who was gesturing above them as he explained how the Fabrikator mirrors would enhance the spectacle of her performance.
It was a simple trick, really, but one designed to impress the guests who would have little or no knowledge about how Grisha powers worked.
The Darkling had given her very little direction as to her performance. He would darken the room and the rest would mostly be up to her.
However, he had warned her not to show off too much. They wanted to dazzle their audience, but it wouldn't do to show them too much power, to remind them that Alina, if she wished, could so easily burn or blind them all.
It was a fine line that the Grisha had to walk when it came to the Winter Fete. Be talented enough to amuse but not intimidating in a way that might make the King or his court too fearful of what they could do.
"All alright?" David asked, looking as if he desperately wanted to get back to his desk in the Fabrikator Workshop, the one place he always seemed at home.
"Great, thank you," she told him, "and will you be at the Fete, David?"
He muttered something about a new project and explosive chemical reactions that had to be carefully monitored.
"Surely you could come for a little while," Alina suggested, "I know Genya is looking forward to the performance."
Genya considered the Fete in just as scornful a light as Alina did, but she had said she was excited to see Alina's performance after she had helped prepare the Queen. It would be a nice opportunity for her best friend to have a few minutes with David.
The Durast went a tiny bit pink when he heard Genya's name. Alina knew the two of them liked each other, but their relationship moved so slowly that the most popular guess for the ongoing Little Palace betting pool was that they wouldn't even kiss for another eight months or so.
"Well," he mumbled, so quietly she could only just hear him, "I suppose Oksana did say she would look after the project for the next few days …"
"That's brilliant," Alina beamed at him, "I guess we'll see you then."
She turned and hurried away before David could change his mind.
Genya would certainly be pleased.
"You look nervous."
Alina turned to glare at Ivan, very much wishing it was Fedyor escorting her over to the Grand Palace rather than his grumpy husband.
"I'm not nervous," she retorted.
"Well, you look it," Ivan said coolly.
She let out a little growl of frustration, almost positive he was trying to rile her up for his own amusement. The Darkling insisted his best Heartrender could be funny, but Alina thought any sense of humour Ivan had must be a warped thing.
She could see his lips quirk upwards in a brief smile at her irritation and she resisted the urge to kick him. For one, it probably wasn't becoming of the Sun Summoner to do such a thing. For another, he would definitely kick her back.
There was mutual relief when they split just before they reached the Throne Room. Ivan headed in to find the Darkling, while her oprichniki escorted Alina to a small room nearby where she could wait until she had to make her grand entrance.
After a few minutes the door opened and a blur of white, gold and red entered the room.
"You look fantastic, darling," Genya hugged her, careful not to muss her kefta.
Alina laughed, "this is your wonderful work, Genya. You saw it an hour ago."
"I am wonderful, aren't I," her friend agreed.
"Where is the Queen?" she asked.
Genya rolled her eyes, "preening in front of the court. That woman drives me insane. She insisted she felt too unwell to go to the Fete tonight, just so her ladies would fawn all over her, and then, at the last minute, surprise, surprise, she decided she was better."
"I'm sure you worked your usual miracles," Alina reassured her.
"Of course," Genya sniffed, "I don't do sloppy work, however much I might want to with her."
"Now," the Tailor continued, "how long do we have before your entry."
Alina, having lost track of the time, looked over at Tomek. He held up five fingers.
"Five minutes," Genya said, "I should get a good viewing spot."
"David will be around somewhere," Alina winked at her, "he was thinking of staying in the Workshop, but he seemed quite intrigued when he heard you would be present."
The Tailor blushed prettily at Alina's words, "well then," she tried to sound calm and collected, "I should go and find him. It would be rude to leave him on his own."
"Absolutely rude," Alina agreed, trying to hide her smile.
A slightly flustered Genya left after another quick hug, turning back to say "good luck," before she vanished out of the door.
Alina fussed with her kefta for a few minutes, even though it was perfectly neat already, before Leonid knocked on the door and nodded to her to indicate it was time.
The hallway was empty now as she made her way to the golden double doors that led to the Throne Room.
She stood, hands clasped together, and tried not to fidget as her oprichniki took up positions around her.
The doors opened and a loud, clear voice announced her, "the Sun Summoner."
No mention of Alina Starkov. She knew it was another layer of security, a way to try and limit those who could identify her. She felt grateful, really, glad that none of the gawking guests would have her name.
The noise levels rose as hundreds of people stared and chattered excitedly at her entrance. Many of those present had seen her previously, but most of the ambassadors visiting for the Fete had not and their gazes were especially curious and calculating.
Her formal kefta was longer than her everyday one, so she walked slowly to ensure she didn't trip down the stairs. She was thankful that Genya had agreed to the comfortable silk slippers she now wore, rather than the pinched, heeled monstrosities she had heard that some of the court ladies wore.
When Alina reached the bottom of the staircase, her oprichniki cleared a path towards the thrones, so that she could greet the King and Queen.
"Moi tsar, moya tsarita," she curtsied a little stiffly, not quite used to the heavy and ornate formal kefta.
It was clearly satisfactory enough for the King, though, since he nodded and waved her away with a hand that clutched a half-full glass of wine. The Queen only sniffed, considering almost everyone at the Fete to be unworthy of her notice, while Prince Vasily made her shudder as he leered at her.
Thankfully, the Darkling moved from his place at the King's side to offer her his arm and escort her to the edge of the room so that they could watch the performances.
"You look lovely," he complimented her, brushing her wrist with his bare hand so briefly that she only felt a rush of reassuring calm rather than any amplification of her power.
"Thank you," she smiled at him, "you look … imposing, powerful."
He looked painfully handsome too, but she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. Anyway, he seemed pleased enough by her words – she got the feeling he was very much satisfied with the intimidating aura he managed to project without even trying, something he must have perfected over the centuries.
He stood by her side to watch the various performances that she had seen the Grisha practicing over the last few weeks.
The Inferni shot arcs of flame over the heads of the guests and the Squallers sent spires of glitter whirling around the room.
The guests oohed and aahed as they watched. Alina almost wanted to laugh – the displays were impressive, but she knew exactly what those Grisha could do on the battlefield: hurl objects through the air, whip up vicious storms, set entire forests or fields aflame, and so much more. Over the years the Grisha had mastered the art of acting like the tame pets the King thought them to be, reassuring him that the Second Army was there to serve him and would never consider rising up to topple him from the throne he did not really deserve.
She wondered if the King ever saw past the façade, if any of the Grisha ever slipped and showed their teeth.
The Lantsov Dynasty were on borrowed time. For now, though, it was business as usual.
When the glitter had settled on the floors, the Tidemakers and Squallers brought a massive wave crashing over the balcony, hovering barely inches above the crowd.
There were a few cries of alarm, but then a group of Inferni raised their hands and the water exploded into mist.
Alina hadn't practiced with them but, on a whim, she sent light through the mist, creating a brief rainbow that delighted the guests.
The Darkling nodded his approval, looking satisfied as people pointed and exclaimed over the rainbow.
A few more demonstrations followed, and then the Darkling squeezed her arm gently to indicate that it was time for their own performance.
As Alina made her way to the small dais that had been set up for her use, she saw the Apparat staring at her. His wide, unnerving smile showed off his yellowing teeth and black gums, making her shiver and turn away.
The Darkling held out his hand to lead her up the steps, "are you ready?"
She nodded. She'd felt briefly nervous earlier, when she had seen the crowded ballroom, but she was confident enough with her power to know that she could give the show the King desired.
"Well," he said with a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, "let's give the people what they want."
The crowd was watching them, chattering and expectant, when the Darkling raised his hands and slammed them together. Thunder seemed to echo around them as darkness spread throughout the room.
The chattering took on a slightly panicked edge. Most of the people in the ballroom had seen the Darkling's power before, but Alina knew it tended to unnerve almost everyone, though it had never really bothered her.
The Darkling hated the Fete, but he certainly knew how to give a show, letting the crowd's anticipation heighten for a few moments before she heard him whisper to her, "now."
Alina called the light. First it was just a glowing orb in her hand that gradually got larger and larger, illuminating the wide-eyed, awestruck faces in front of her.
She split the light then into four smaller orbs, making them dance above her, faster and faster until they crashed back together to form a larger shape that she manipulated and twisted until a magnificent glowing stag stood before them all.
When she had been practicing, she had considered what animal to shape from her light. Someone had suggested a double eagle, the Lantsov symbol, but Alina disliked the idea of such a public show of loyalty to a family she had never cared for. Morozova's Stag had given her an amplifier and she thought it was only right to celebrate that.
After a few seconds, Alina let the shape of the stag fade away as she focused her light and sent a beam towards the balcony that David had pointed out earlier. The Fabrikators had clearly done their work well as the beam bounced off one mirror to another mirror across the room and so on until the room was filled with crisscrossing streams of sunlight.
The noise of the crowd grew, their excitement clear.
Alina crossed her hands and the beams disappeared, but she let the light around her grow until both she and the Darkling were encased in a glowing sphere. As the sphere grew, the Darkling sent out shadowy tendrils of darkness that danced around the light.
Finally, she threw out her arms and slammed them together as the Darkling had done earlier. Now, however, it was blinding light that filled the room rather than darkness.
Alina held the light for a few seconds and, when she let it fade, she saw that almost half the guests were kneeling on the floor, crossing themselves and murmuring "Sankta Alina."
There was raucous applause then, people clapping and stomping their feet and cheering.
At the back of the room, she spotted Genya and David standing close together, Genya grinning at her while David had eyes only for the Tailor. Ivan nodded in satisfaction, while Nadia and Marie waved excitedly. Even Zoya seemed mildly impressed and actually let her expression show it.
The King looked pleased, but also a little disturbed, as if she was a weapon of his that had grown too powerful for him to contain. Good, she thought to herself, smiling a little at the knowledge that she had shown only a small fraction of her power to the guests.
The Queen looked as bored as she often did. Prince Vasily swayed slightly – clearly drunk, as usual. She deliberately avoided eye contact with the Apparat, who always made her uncomfortable.
Genya gave her a discrete thumbs up from the back of the room, still next to David. Her oprichniki smiled at her.
She glanced at the Darkling. His eyes were wide and bright, the way they always were when he watched her use her power.
"You were magnificent," he said, offering her his arm, "the stag was an excellent touch."
She beamed at his praise. Shaping her light into a stag had been something she had only told Marie about, since the Inferni had a knack for shaping her own fire and had been happy to help Alina learn too.
"I was terrible at it to begin with," she confided, "my stag just looked like a blob with antlers."
He gave her an amused smile, "well it looked very much like Morozova's Stag tonight. You have certainly impressed your audience."
Alina looked a little nervously down at the crowd, who were staring and whispering and trying to get closer to her. She was thankful for the oprichniki who surrounded both her and the Darkling, glaring at anyone who got too close.
He could clearly sense her nervousness, and how uncomfortable she was with the murmured 'Sankta' she kept hearing, because he grasped her elbow and led her towards the back of the dais, down a few steps and towards a door that matched so perfectly with the design of the wall that she wouldn't have noticed it if the Darkling hadn't unlocked it with a tendril of shadow.
She had known there were hidden doors that could only be unlocked by the small science in the Little Palace, but she hadn't realised there were such things built into the Grand Palace too. She had a feeling the King was probably entirely unaware of them.
"This will take you to a small corridor next to the Dining Room," he told her, "Dimitri, Leonid, Igor and Pavel will escort you, and Tomek and Viktor will find you a little later. It should give you a few minutes of peace, although I'm afraid you will have to speak to some of the guests at dinner."
"Thank you," she told him gratefully, "I'm sorry, I'm just a bit overwhelmed."
"It is perfectly understandable, Alina," he said, "very few Grisha enjoy these distasteful events. It takes practice to perfect one's courtly mask."
The Darkling had certainly had plenty of time to practice, and it showed in the way he always said the right thing, always knew had to turn a conversation to his advantage, always smiled at the correct moment (even if Alina could detect the falseness in that smile).
"Good luck," she said sympathetically.
She wouldn't want to be in his position, forced to make small talk with banal courtiers who saw them as useful curiosities rather than people and ambassadors looking to exploit any weaknesses.
"Oh, Alina, luck is for the unprepared and I," he paused to give her a quick wink, "am never unprepared."
Alina smiled as she turned and headed into the hidden corridor. She pitied the guests who tried to match wits with the Darkling.
-x-x-x-
Two hours later, Alina was sat at one end of the table that seated two hundred and the Darkling was at the other end. The only familiar faces close to her were her oprichniki, whose presence brought her a great deal of comfort since she felt like a fish out of water.
There were no other Grisha present. Good enough to fight in the war, and to entertain guests, but clearly considered by the King to be unworthy to share a dinner table with him.
As if the lazy duke or lewd count drinking their way through the evening had contributed more to the war effort than Ivan, Fedyor, Zoya, Marie, Nadia, David or any of the other Second Army soldiers.
The only saving grace was that the Apparat was seated too far away to bother her, though he stared at her a great deal with wide, fanatical eyes.
All of those seated around her gushed and praised and smiled.
But every one of them looked at her and saw only a living saint, their own hopes and expectations and assumptions.
None of them saw Alina Starkov. She suspected the only ones in the entire room who did were the Darkling and her oprichniki.
Surrounded by people and noise, in the huge dining room, Alina felt lonely.
She was also extremely hungry considering the dinner had been going on for nearly two hours and they had been presented with over a dozen courses so far.
The problem was that the portions were miniscule and the food was … complicated.
Alina would never say that she was a fan of the herring that appeared so often on the Little Palace menu, but while the food was simple it was always hearty and plentiful. Whatever passed for food at this dinner was paltry and often just not very nice, clearly going more for increasingly complicated presentation on the plate than actual taste.
She wasn't particularly fond of most of the guests sitting near her either.
One of the nobles sitting two seats down kept gazing at her with a dazed kind of awe. Every now and then he would reach out, behind the person sitting in between them, and touch her hair. It was fairly creepy but relatively harmless, although both Dimitri and Leonid kept a close eye on him.
Worse was one of the Shu ambassadors, a few seats down and across the table from her. He kept asking her pointed questions about her family with a clear motive of discerning if he might make a case for her being deported to Shu Han. She wasn't too concerned – she had been born in Ravka to a Ravkan father (and though Shu Han was matriarchal, Ravka was definitely not), the King would not be willing to let the Sun Summoner out of his grasp and the Darkling, of course, would never allow her to be taken to one of the Shu laboratories where so many Grisha were lost.
Still, the man's presence made her shiver with distaste and, while she was sure there was already plenty of security in place, she whispered to Tomek and Viktor to make sure that none of the Fete guests could get near any sections of the Little Palace, especially the dormitories where the younger students slept.
The one bright spot was a cheerful young Kaelish ambassador sat next to Alina. Ailbe ó Ceallaigh was curious without being intrusive and happy to tell Alina all about Leflin, the port settlement that was her home, and other places of interest in the Wandering Isle, such as Istamere (where the caves were allegedly full of fairies) and Fenford.
It only made Alina more eager than ever to travel, though she knew she would need to be wary – some of the Kaelish people considered Grisha blood a cure-all and killed any Grisha they came across so that they might drink their blood. Ailbe assured her that the majority of the population no longer followed such barbaric practices, but Alina knew she couldn't trust that the ambassador was not just luring her into a false sense of security. In any event, she knew she wouldn't be able to travel freely just yet, not until the Fold and the Lantsovs were dealt with and Ravka was in a more stable, secure position.
Eventually, after even more courses, the meal began to wind down. Alina thought she might be able to escape then, but there were apparently toasts to be made. To the King, the Queen, Prince Vasily, the absent Prince Nikolai, on and on until Alina thought they might have named fifty people or more.
She got a mention too, and tried not to grimace when everyone turned their eyes towards her.
There was only so much that even these ridiculously excessive people could toast to, however, and finally the King and Queen stood to leave, indicating to everyone that they too could now seek the comfort of their beds.
Alina looked around to see if she could spot Genya, worried that the King's drunken state would lead him to the Tailor's door, but her best friend was nowhere to be seen and the King's hands were (for once) all over the Queen rather than pawing at another woman.
Pavel and Igor appeared on either side of her, ready to lead her out of the crush of people milling around now they were not confined to their assigned seats.
"Let's hurry," she muttered after a brief smile and goodbye to Ailbe, very conscious of the Apparat moving determinedly towards her.
It seemed like they might not make it out before the Apparat caught up to them, but then they were suddenly hidden from view by shadows that crept forward from the edges of the room.
Alina turned to see the Darkling incline his head in her direction before he looked back at the First Army General he was speaking with.
Grateful for his timely intervention, she and her oprichniki left quickly, exiting the Grand Palace and trekking across the snow back to the peace and quiet of the Little Palace and their warm, comfortable beds.
Saints, she was glad the evening was over.
Alina deliberately avoided thinking about the Shadow Fold she would soon be facing.
The morning after the Winter Fete was considered a write-off for most guests and performers.
In the Grand Palace, the royal family, nobles and ambassadors were almost all nursing painful hangovers, late to rise and slow to get ready for the day ahead.
In the Little Palace, things were a little busier. Many of the Grisha who had performed at the Fete were taking the rare opportunity to sleep in if they wished. They, for the most part, lacked the headaches of those in the Grand Palace – it took more alcohol to affect them than it did the otkazat'sya and, besides, they had still imbibed far less than those from the Grand Palace, unwilling to be caught unawares or without their full faculties in a place most of them considered to be enemy territory. Still, there was plenty of activity with the younger students practicing in the gardens or making use of the training grounds.
Genya was directing the final packing of Alina's luggage, humming to herself with happiness at the thought of a trip away from Os Alta. The Darkling had persuaded the King and Queen to allow her to accompany them to the Fold, insisting that the Tailor was required to make sure Alina looked suitably dazzling when they crossed the Fold. The Queen was not gracious about it, disliking the idea of being without Genya's skills for a week or so, but the King wanted the Fold crossing to be a big event and insisted that the Sun Summoner had to look the part.
"I'm sure you could make her look a little more Ravkan too," the Queen had added spitefully.
Alina had clenched her fists and reminded herself that she could not burn the Queen with a searing burst of light, not now at least. She knew Genya would never dream of trying to make her look less Shu and she didn't want to make a fuss in case the Queen became irritable and forced Genya to stay behind.
They were departing in the afternoon, a huge caravan of carriages, carts and horses carrying Grisha, oprichniki, servants and ambassadors.
In a few days they would enter the Fold. Alina, the Darkling, a contingent of Grisha and a large number of ambassadors eager to see the Sun Summoner in action at the Shadow Fold.
She still wasn't entirely sure what the full plan was, but the Darkling had promised they would discuss it on the journey to ensure they were in agreement.
Whatever they decided, she knew it would probably end in death for General Zlatan and his men. She had mostly reconciled herself to that, although she did wish there was another way.
Focus on the big picture, she reminded herself. That was what the Darkling had been teaching her. She couldn't think in days or months or years. She had to start trying to think in decades and centuries, focusing on what the ramifications of her actions would be years in the future. It was hard, though, when she had only lived sixteen years to his centuries.
It was hard to believe that the moment she faced the Fold for the first time was so close. It had been in the works for years and, somehow, she hadn't been sure it would ever arrive.
Alina remembered the nightmares she had suffered sporadically for years, of being shoved into the Fold before she was ready.
This would be different, though. The Apparat, thank the saints, was staying behind in Os Alta. She had no idea how that had been managed but she was grateful all the same. And the Darkling would be with her, a calm, reassuring presence, with extra amplification in case she needed it.
Alina sighed. It was happening, whether or not she wanted it. She just hoped she was ready.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
The next chapter, where Alina enters the Fold for the first time, should be out next Friday.