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.
A Night To Remember
Alina and Nadia burst into loud giggles.
"I panicked," Marie told them, embarrassment clear, "I didn't expect Sergei to ask to meet my parents."
"So, you set him on fire?" Alina laughed.
"It was an accident," Marie insisted.
"The Squallers had to launch him right into the lake," Nadia told Alina with glee.
"Set ablaze, nearly drowned … and he still wants to go with you on your trip home?"
Marie blushed and nodded, "he even bought gifts for my parents, and for my siblings."
Alina had never been particularly fond of Sergei, but she had to admit he was going a little bit up in her estimation right now.
They were distracted by a knock on the door and then Genya entered, a line of maids behind her carrying various boxes.
"Hi, Genya," Marie and Nadia chimed in unison, much friendlier towards the Tailor now than they had been during Alina's first few years at the Little Palace.
"They need the two of you to practice your demonstrations," Genya reminded them.
"Saints, we're late!" Marie cried out, grabbing Nadia's wrist and pulling her best friend towards the door, "see you later, Alina."
Alina had barely lifted her hand to wave before the two girls were out of the door, the sound of their hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor.
"What have they done to you?" Genya asked as she looked askance at Alina's half-styled hair.
"Oh, they were just having a bit of fun."
"Well, it's a good job I'm here now," the Tailor said, "we've got a lot to do."
"There's six hours until the Fete, Genya," Alina reminded her.
"Barely any time at all, darling," her best friend said, dismissing the maids as she chivied Alina into the bathroom, "into the bath, quickly now, you can have ten minutes to soak but no more."
Genya, she thought with a smile, would make a good drill sergeant if she was ever so inclined.
"I don't know why I have to put on a show again," Alina complained to her friend as she made the most of her brief time in the bath, "the ambassadors were all at the Winter Fete last year. And if they don't remember that then they certainly remember the trip into the Fold."
"The King does like a spectacle," Genya said with a moue of distaste, "and he insists on the Fete every year to show the Grisha off like we're performing monkeys."
Alina squeezed her friend's hand. Genya's hated of the King was perfectly understandable to her.
"He'll regret it soon enough," the Tailor added, her voice barely a whisper, "he'll soon see that trying to treat us all like pets was a mistake."
Five hours and forty minutes later, Alina had to concede that Genya might have been right about the time needed to prepare.
They had just finished getting ready with only twenty minutes to spare.
Alina wasn't one to fuss over her face but, just this once, she thought the time spent was worth it.
Genya, of course, was a miracle worker. Admittedly, Alina was a far cry from the skinny, sallow child who had arrived at the Little Palace nine years previously, constant use of her power making her both strong and pretty, but with Genya's work she could admit she looked stunning. Her dark hair was glossy and shiny, braided and pinned up into a complicated style held together by the pins the Darkling had once gifted her, as well as a gold hair comb studded with diamonds. Her skin was smooth, her lips pink and shiny, and her eyes decorated with kohl and a sparkly gold powder.
And then there was her kefta.
"It came out even better than I imagined," Genya grinned as she ran a hand over a non-existent wrinkle and admired the full outfit.
The design was Genya's and David (sworn to secrecy) had assisted with the creation – his talents ran more towards other areas but between him and Genya it was easy work to bring the kefta Alina had imagined to life.
It was made of heavy gold silk and delicately embroidered in black with both blazing and eclipsed suns, as well as a pattern that somehow made her think of the antlers of Morozova's Stag, truly a kefta worthy of the Sun Summoner.
"You do look good in black," the Tailor said, "but I must say that you're like a queen in this."
There was something in Genya's voice when she spoke, some secret meaning Alina couldn't quite figure out.
However, she had no time to puzzle over what Genya might be hinting at. There was still perfume to dab on, some final touches to her hair and her jewellery to choose (the pendant from the Darkling, as well as some glittering black and gold bracelets).
"He won't be able to take his eyes off you," Genya murmured.
"What? Who?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing," her best friend waved away her protests, "come on, you can't be late."
"Fine," Alina grumbled.
Genya was probably only teasing, anyway. And if she wasn't then she certainly wouldn't be referring to …
No, don't get your hopes up, Alina.
She and Genya stepped out into the corridor, all six of Alina's oprichniki forming a loose circle around them.
Alina straightened her back and tried not to sigh as she thought of an evening spent among so many people she couldn't stand.
It was fine. She just had to get her performance over with and then she could escape to her room and spend the night having a long bath and reading a good book.
Hopefully it would be an uneventful night.
"Well," the Darkling said, expression unreadable as he looked at her, "this is a surprise."
"Don't be angry," Alina bit her lip in worry, "it's not that I don't love my black keftas. It's only that black is your colour and I just …"
I want a colour of my own. Want to feel like the equal you say I will be.
He seemed to understand, since his expression softened considerably, "you look radiant, solntse."
She beamed as he reached out to let his fingers brush the two symbols attached by a piece of silk to her new kefta – her full sun and his sun in eclipse, hanging next to each other.
His hand moved to grasp one of hers, bringing it up so he could press a gentle kiss against her knuckle.
She flushed, tried not to tremble. Didn't entirely succeed, if his slight smirk was any indication.
"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing towards the doorway to the Throne Room.
Alina hadn't known that they were going to enter together, an act that she knew would certainly send a message to the people gathered there.
He had to realise that, surely. Did he simply not care what anyone thought, or did he mean something more by it?
Saints, she wanted to know, was so distracted by trying to figure out his meaning that she nearly tripped over her own feet as they moved towards the door.
A voice echoed through the Throne Room, announcing the arrival of the Darkling and the Sun Summoner.
Just before the door opened, a servant appeared, out of breath and almost wheezing as he handed her a gold lace veil, "the King has sent this for you, Lady Starkov, to wear before your performance."
He disappeared before she could ask any questions and she turned to the Darkling, "surely I don't have to wear this?"
"It appears you must," he told her, "it wouldn't do to make waves at this particular juncture."
"It's hideous," she exclaimed, "and pointless too – almost everyone in the Throne Room saw my face last year and they know exactly what I look like."
The Darkling only gave the tired shrug of a man who had dealt with far too many of the King's ludicrous orders and whims to consider this one particularly unusual, "it is ugly," he agreed, "alas, you must wear it."
"You better not let me fall down the stairs," she warned him as put the veil on and tried to ensure it didn't ruin any of Genya's hard work (Saints, the Tailor would be furious about Alina having to wear something so unfashionable).
He offered her his arm in response and she took it, gripping tighter than she usually would just to make sure she didn't make a fool of herself by tumbling over and smashing her head open on the marble floor.
All eyes turned to them as they entered and Alina tried very hard not to blush even though she knew no one would be able to tell either way. She had dealt with the crowds at her first Winter Fete a year previously, but she could see people looking and whispering about her and the Darkling and knew there would be countless rumours in a matter of minutes.
"I look ridiculous," she muttered as they walked down the stairs.
"The veil is ridiculous," he countered, "you look lovely,"
Why did he have to say things like that? It was hard enough to focus with her vision obscured by the veil and now she just felt giddy inside.
He was probably just being polite. Or maybe …
No, she couldn't think about that right now, not when she had a performance to put on, just as soon as she'd found somewhere to dump her veil.
As the Darkling preceded her onto the dais, Alina caught a glimpse of the King and Queen on their thrones.
The King looked pale and gaunt, thinner than usual. He was clearly not entirely recovered from his illness, although he was drinking just as much as he normally did, his glass never more than empty.
Still, she could see a gold-tipped cane hidden just behind his throne, a sure sign that he was too weak to be moving around much. At least, she thought, that would save Genya and the Grand Palace serving girls from being pawed at later in the evening.
She stepped up to the dais when the Darkling gestured, moving slowly and carefully to avoid any accidents occurring thanks to her limited she took off her veil and passed it to a nearby servant (who would hopefully burn the thing), Alina looked out over the crowd.
There were plenty of people crossing themselves already, murmurs of 'Sankta Alina' rippling through the room. She hoped the Apparat wouldn't walk among them, fanning the flames of their religious fervour.
In contrast, most of the Grisha looked relatively bored, sick of the pageantry and having to waste their talents on petty tricks, and already familiar with both the Darkling and Alina's powers.
The oprichniki were eagle-eyed and serious as they stood guard at every entrance. There were plenty of Grand Palace guards, but Alina knew the Darkling didn't trust them to be properly vigilant, preferring to have his own people supplementing the guards.
There was also a young man near the back of the room. Handsome enough, though her heart didn't race when she looked at him like it did with the Darkling, and oddly familiar.
For some reason he made her think of the orphanage at Keramzin, but she couldn't quite place him.
However, she didn't let her mind wander for long, as the Darkling filled the room with shadows and she stepped forward to call the light.
Alina barely thought about the performance, mostly just going through the motions.
Nothing about her demonstration was strenuous. It was well known that she had burned a path through the Fold, after all, and the point of this little display was simply to amuse.
The royalty, nobility and ambassadors present only wanted to be entertained and it wasn't in the best interest of the Grisha to scare them too much with large displays of power.
The temptation to burn a few select people was strong, but Alina resisted the urge. It wasn't the right time, not yet.
As she left the dais, Alina tried not to grimace at the people who swarmed around her.
Her oprichniki were next to her, but she couldn't avoid all the socialising. She had to greet the King and Queen, who were thankfully not in the mood for a long conversation, and then she was expected to speak with a number of nobles and military leaders.
The greed in their eyes disturbed her, the way their hands darted out to touch her as if she were an object rather than a person.
She clenched her fists, willed her power down rather than letting it flare outwards in anger.
Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.
As a group of ambassadors move away to speak with the King, Alina let out a sigh of relief and turned to search for one of her friends, hoping that they would put other guests off approaching her.
She looked around and caught a glimpse of the young man she had seen earlier. He was watching her intently, recognition in his eyes, but she still couldn't quite place him. She frowned, trying to figure out where she knew him from, but then she heard footsteps coming towards her and turned, hoping it wasn't another tiresome courtier.
She relaxed when she realised it was the Darkling.
"For you," he murmured, and she blushed a little even as she beamed happily at the bouquet of her favourite blue irises that he presented her with.
He offered his arm and she took it, giving in to the urge to lean into his comforting warmth as he steered her towards one of the doorways.
Saints, she was being so obvious. He wasn't complaining, but she knew he'd never make a scene about it in the heart of the Grand Palace, no matter what he might truly feel.
"Where are we going?" she asked as they moved towards the exit.
They passed by nobles, ambassadors and Grisha, but the Darkling simply flicked his fingers and the shadows hid them from view.
"I thought you could use an escape," he murmured as he led her through a maze of corridors with her arm still tucked into his.
She looked at him quizzically as they went through some doors and then out of the Grand Palace entirely, their boots crunching the powdery snow as they walked back in the direction of the Little Palace, "is this alright? It's not part of the schedule."
As far as Alina was aware, she was supposed to be meeting Genya in a dressing room to put on an even more ornate kefta for the dinner that would soon begin.
"If you want to go back –" he began, almost teasingly.
She shook her head, perfectly content to avoid another few hours of being stared at and whispered about, "no, this is fine."
They walked the short route back in silence. Alina could hear the quiet steps of some of their oprichniki a few steps behind and was impressed by the ease with which they located their General despite his use of the shadows to keep them hidden.
When the Darkling led them to his receiving room, she couldn't help the shiver that ran through her. Why had he brought her so far away from the Fete? Why had he willingly abandoned the event he hated but always dutifully took part in?
The door to his personal library was closed, but a different one was open, giving Alina her first glimpse of his bedroom.
She tried to stay relaxed as she wandered towards one of the tables, breathing in the scent of the irises he had given her before putting them down carefully.
When she turned to face him, the Darkling was right in front of her, looking down at her as if she was the answer to all of his questions.
She was used to beauty by now. The Little Palace was full of it, after all. But there was something so striking about the Darkling that it made everyone else pale in comparison.
Like almost everyone in the Little Palace, the younger Alina had admired the Darkling, had daydreamed about him and occasionally blushed in his presence. Lately, it had felt like more, a burning desire she was sure would never be reciprocated. She had never imagined anything like this happening in reality, despite his occasional little actions that made her wonder what his feelings were.
And although she had seen more of him than the other students in the Little Palace, and he had always been kind to her, he had often seemed a little removed.
Now, though …
She was young and almost entirely inexperienced but she recognised the want that she saw now in his eyes. It was, if she was being honest, certainly reflected in her own eyes.
Her back was pressed against the table as the Darkling stepped forward.
She read his intentions and was rising up on her toes to meet him as his hands went to her waist and he dipped his head to press his lips against hers.
He was gentle at first, but as soon as her arms looped around his neck, the moment she pulled him closer, his mouth began to move hungrily against hers.
The room darkened slightly, shadows dancing across the wall, but it didn't bother Alina – she did not fear the dark, not with the light inside her.
When Arne had kissed her, he had done so almost cautiously, as if he was scared to break her. The Darkling, however, kissed her like she was his salvation, like she was the one thing he wanted most in the world.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt his power flood through her. It made her feel so alive that she thought she might explode.
When she opened her eyes again a few moments later, as the Darkling's lips trailed across her jawline, she caught a glimpse of her hands, tangled in his dark hair, and realised she was glowing.
The Darkling had clearly noticed what had happened too, since he pulled away to look at her. His expression as he took in the light emanating from her was a mix of awe and lust and possessive want.
He dipped his head to kiss her again.
"Solntse," he spoke the word again and again against her neck, her cheeks, her lips.
His hands gripped her waist and he lifted her so she was sitting on the edge of the table. He stepped in between her legs then, one hand on the back of her neck to pull her face closer, while the other slid up her thigh, causing her to let out a moan that really was quite indecent.
Saints, she could scarcely think. The one thing she knew, though, was that right now she didn't want to be anywhere but here.
A sudden knock on the door dragged them both back to reality and the glow faded quickly from Alina's skin.
The Darkling kept a tight grip on her, expression shifting to anger.
"It's fine," she reassured him softly, "you better see who it is. Maybe it's important."
For a brief moment he looked like he might argue, but then he pressed his lips quickly but insistently against hers once more and let go of her to stalk over to the door and wrench it open.
"What," he demanded tersely.
She heard the muffled sounds of someone reporting, but she couldn't hear exactly what they were saying. She slumped back against the table, a little dazed from the events of the past few minutes.
"Give me a minute," she heard the Darkling say as he shut the door and came back towards her.
She looked up to see that he had a blank expression on his face that gave nothing away.
"I have to go for a little while," he told her, "I'll leave my guards outside. Don't leave the room, Alina, promise me."
"What's going on? Is something wrong?" she asked, mind cataloguing everything that could possibly have happened in the brief time since they had left the Grand Palace, from minor incident to absolute disaster.
"Promise me, Alina," he repeated forcefully.
She nodded, a little irritated that he still wouldn't give her any information but willing to wait a little while before demanding it, "I'll wait here, I promise."
He cupped her cheek with one hand and brushed his lips softly over hers, "I won't be long."
A few seconds later and Alina was alone in the room, still trying to process what had happened.
She hadn't expected this. It wasn't that it was unwelcome – after all, she'd had some very detailed dreams in the last year or so that involved the Darkling – but she'd never heard even a rumour about him being romantically involved with anyone.
Why her, she wondered. The Darkling had such presence and charisma that she couldn't imagine him being unable to charm whoever he wanted into his bed, women (or men) far more beautiful and experienced than Alina.
None that might be forever young like him, though, she thought to herself.
Was that his reason? To choose the one person that might be able to spend eternity with him.
Still, he'd been enjoying himself. Her experience was absolutely pitiful, especially compared to a man who had lived for so long, but she thought he'd liked what they had been doing. And they had been getting closer lately, spending more time together. Perhaps it wasn't as crazy as she'd thought it was that his desire for an equal in politics and governance of the Second Army might extend to his personal life as well.
However, to try and figure out the Darkling's mindset seemed a futile endeavour. He was centuries old, fiendishly clever and well-practiced in keeping his plans to himself.
Was there even a point in trying to figure out his motivations? She could only hope he'd continue to share his thoughts and plans with her, or at least some of them.
In any event, something about the two of them seemed almost inevitable. Light and dark, two sides of a coin, balance.
She only hoped that the Darkling agreed. It had been hard enough when she thought her feelings were unrequited but to have it confirmed after what had just happened between them would be devastating.
-x-x-x-
Five minutes passed, then ten minutes.
After half an hour had gone by without the Darkling's return, Alina let out a little huff and looked longingly towards his bedroom. The bed looked extremely comfortable and she'd been on her feet for a while.
It would only be a little rest, something to do other than pace back and forth across the room.
Before she could lose her nerve, Alina slipped through the doorway into the Darkling's bedroom, pulled off her boots and sat down on the bed to take off her hair comb and pull out the numerous hairpins holding her complex hairstyle together.
Dropping all of the hair accessories onto a side table, she ran her fingers through her now-loose hair to try her best to get out the worst of the tangles.
She looked around the room, taking advantage of the chance to see the inner sanctum of the country's most powerful Grisha.
Dark decorations and furniture, the same as all his other rooms. Simple but elegant, the majority of the room taken up by the large bed. Apart from that, the only furniture was a large wardrobe, two bedside tables and a desk and chair that was mostly empty (clearly, he used the War Room for the majority of his work), another door probably leading to a bathroom.
There was a book on the cultural history of Ketterdam on one of the side tables and Alina picked it up, settling against the pile of pillows and beginning to read. If she was going to have to wait then she might as well do something to pass the time. At least this tome looked more interesting than her most recent assignment – An Agricultural History of Ravka.
Her eyes began to droop a little not long after she began reading. It was quite a fascinating book, but it had been a long day and she was clearly more tired than she'd realised.
Just a little nap, she thought to herself, no harm in that.
The bed was cosy, she was warm and sleep was so very tempting.
Her eyes were closed within minutes.
-x-x-x-
"Alina," she woke to the sound of the Darkling calling out for her, the tiniest thread of panic running through his voice, "Alina, where are you?"
"In here," she told him, still half-asleep but nervously realising she had no idea if he would be pleased by the fact that she had wandered into his bedroom and then fallen asleep in his bed.
Relief coursed through her when she appeared in the doorway, the concern on his face melting away to show a pleased satisfaction at the sight of her sitting up, kefta a little rumpled, "don't you look comfortable, zolotse."
She flushed and began to move to get off the bed, "sorry, I was just tired. I didn't know long you'd be and I apologise for intruding like this."
It only took him a few long strides before he was next to her, leaning down to kiss her again.
"I don't mind at all," he murmured after they broke apart, "I'm rather enjoying the image, I must admit."
She blushed fiercely at his words, even more so when his hands went to her waist and he then captured her mouth once more.
They kissed for seconds, minutes, hours. She really couldn't be sure, her head spinning, her face warm.
"What happened?" she asked, when she finally came back to her senses.
"Nothing that can't wait until the morning," he said, hands roaming, lips skimming across any available skin he could find, his touch making her power spark and her skin glow.
She should ask again, should demand answers. Someone could have died, or been seriously injured. However, if she was honest with herself, she couldn't quite bring herself to care right now, not when the Darkling was deftly undoing the clasps of her kefta and slipping his hands underneath her skirt.
There could be a revolution going on outside the door, a fire raging in the Grand Palace just across the grounds, and she really wouldn't notice.
It took only a few minutes for Alina to find herself sprawled out on the Darkling's bed, her beautiful kefta and his black one tossed somewhat carelessly over a chair.
She briefly thought of the orphanage, of overhearing Ana Kuya's admonitions to the older girls not to let themselves become the victims of a seduction that could ruin their future.
Alina was far from a victim, though. She was in fact the definition of a willing, active participant. Besides, the Alkemi had long since perfected a concoction that both prevented the monthly bleeding that plagued most women, while also protecting them from unwanted pregnancies. She was safe to do whatever she wished with the Darkling.
And there were many, many things she wanted to do.
"I want you to know my name," he said quietly, pulling her into his lap as her fingers played with the edges of his shirt, "the name I was given, not the title I took for myself, the one only Baghra knows … will you have it, Alina?"
His name. She had rarely thought about the fact that he would have a name, that he could not have been born as the Darkling. He was so powerful, so set apart even from other Grisha, that it seemed almost odd that he would have a name like everyone else. She wanted to know, though, wanted this secret from a man who could be so very guarded.
"Yes," she told him, "I will have it."
"Aleksander," he murmured the name against her lips.
It was a very ordinary name for such an extraordinary man. A name that had been used by kings and peasants alike.
"Will you say it?" he asked.
"Aleksander," she whispered.
His eyes darkened and his expression seemed endlessly hungry.
"Again," he demanded.
"Aleksander," she repeated softly.
He growled at her words, kissing her again, tugging at both her remaining clothes and his until they were both naked upon the bed.
She tried not to look as nervous as she felt. She'd never seen a man in all his glory before, had never had someone touch the soft skin of her upper thigh or let their long fingers wander between her legs.
Saints, she really was starting to see what the fuss was all about.
"Are you sure?" he asked her, "you have to be sure, Alina."
"Yes," she told him instantly, "I'm sure, Aleksander. Please … please just touch me."
"Oh, Alina," he nudged her nose playfully with his own, "my Alina, the things I'll show you."
She smiled. She really couldn't wait.
When Alina woke, she was pleasantly sore, each ache a pleasing reminder of the activities she and Aleksander had engaged in before she had fallen into a deep, sated sleep.
She was also warm, mostly thanks to the muscled arm slung across her, tugging her close.
It appeared that the fearsome Darkling liked to cuddle.
Aleksander, she reminded herself with a giddy sort of delight, she had his name now, one known only to his mother.
As she shifted a little, Aleksander stirred next to her. He sat up, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, "good morning, moya lyubov."
"Hi," she replied, suddenly very aware of her nakedness and a little shy despite everything that had happened between them recently.
As Aleksander moved closer, she felt a hardness press against her lower back and her whole body flushed pink with arousal. Maybe they could …
"My Alina," he sighed, "I'm afraid we need to rise for the day."
She couldn't help but pout at the thought.
He laughed softly, kissing her briefly, "I wish it could have been otherwise, but there are certain events from last night you must be made aware of, and we are due to leave to track the sea whip this afternoon."
"What happened?" she asked, suddenly panicked and concerned, furious with herself for not asking about the reason for last night's interruption as soon as she had woken up.
"It seems that General Zlatan was not with his men on the dry docks in Novokribirsk," Aleksander snarled, "a coward, it appears, as well as a traitor. He has been hiding ever since and somehow managed to sneak onto palace grounds with the intention of killing you."
There was a cold anger in his eyes that told her Zlatan would bitterly regret his assassination attempt.
"How did you catch him? He didn't kill anyone, did he?"
"He murdered two regular Palace guards and one of my oprichniki," Aleksander explained, voice tight with barely restrained fury, "and he stabbed Genya."
"No!" Alina exclaimed, "Saints, is she ok? She's not …?"
"Her kefta did its job," Aleksander reassured her, "there was some bruising but it was the work of mere seconds for a Healer to fix it."
Alina began to scramble up, trying to spot where her clothes were, "I have to go and see her. I can't believe I've left it so long; I should have been with her."
Aleksander caught her around the waist, pulled her towards him, "shh," he ran a soothing hand up and down her spine, his power calming her mind, "Genya is fine, Alina, I promise. There isn't even a mark."
"It's my fault," Alina felt a few tears drip down her cheeks, "Zlatan wouldn't even have been here if it wasn't for me."
"There will always be those who hate us for who we are," he reminded her, "Zlatan was simply the latest in a long line."
"Is he dead?" she asked, her wish for the answer to be yes warring with her desire to hear him scream as she burned him alive.
"He was executed following his interrogation," Aleksander confirmed, "I am aware that you or Genya might have wished to punish him yourselves, solntse, but I was reluctant to leave him alive, even under guard and for just a few hours."
"Did he suffer?"
She thought of all the Grisha that Zlatan had ordered to be captured and sold to Fjerda, Shu Han and Kerch, of people dead because of him, of Genya being stabbed. And when Aleksander simply nodded with a twisted smile all she felt was vindictive pleasure.
Aleksander got out of bed, entirely unbothered by his nudity as pulled an outfit from his wardrobe and dressed quickly.
Alina may have peeked once (or five times) as he got ready.
Once he was fully dressed, he went through his wardrobe and passed her some clothes.
"These are all in my size," she noted with some surprise.
He only shrugged, "I like to be prepared."
It was only then that she realised that, while the kefta he had given her was her regular black with gold embroidery, the one he had put on himself was a little different, with a few gold threads mixed in with the usual black and silver.
She reached out to run her hand over his sleeve, a pleased smile on her face, "you've got my colour."
"Well, I'm afraid I couldn't pull off a full gold kefta like you, moya lyubov, but I think I could get used to a little extra colour."
Embarrassingly, she found herself near tears again. The Darkling's black kefta was almost as well-known as he was and the fact that he was willing to make even a little adjustment to it meant a lot to her.
"There are some biscuits in my receiving room that will have to do as breakfast for the moment," Aleksander told her as she began to pull on her clothes, "we're due in the War Room in five minutes. I'll order something more substantial once the meeting is over."
As if on cue, Alina's stomach began to rumble, and she giggled a little as she finished dressing and made her way into the receiving room in search of the biscuits.
"In the jar on the table by the bookshelf," he told her, snagging her hand as she passed and leaning down to give her a brief kiss that she wouldn't have minded turning a little more heated if she hadn't known they had somewhere to be.
She let out a happy little sound as she opened the jar to find a selection of spice cookies and tea biscuits inside. Having selected four, she passed the jar to Aleksander, who immediately began to eat one and then piled some more into a napkin. His sweet tooth really was amusing.
When Alina had eaten her biscuits, straightened her kefta and used her fingers to comb her hair into something a little less messy than what she had woken up with, Aleksander offered her his arm.
She took it after she reached over to brush a few biscuit crumbs from his kefta, trying not to freak out at the domesticity of the scene she was currently a part of, "what is the meeting about?"
"Just an introduction to the trackers who will be joining us on our search for the sea whip," he explained.
He seemed to seethe when he spoke the word trackers, although she had no idea why. Perhaps he was remembering how long it had taken them to find Morozova's Stag. Hopefully, it would be a quicker search this time – she wanted to travel but didn't much fancy being at sea for months or even, Saints forbid, years, while they tried to track down the second of Morozova's amplifiers.
"Well, let's go then," she said, "I want to see Genya as soon as possible and I need to finish packing for the trip."
"Genya is absolutely fine," he reiterated, "by the time you get back to your room, she'll probably have you completely packed and half the maids in hysterics."
Alina laughed, "well, at least that means she'll hopefully have some time to deal with this," she gestured to her hair.
"Oh, Saints," she added after a moment, "Genya will know."
"Know what?"
"About us … last night … we, err," she stuttered out.
How did she ask if she could reveal where she had been to Genya? Was this all supposed to be a secret? A sudden, horrible thought hit her – was it just one night, a casual thing?
Surely not. The Darkling … Aleksander … he wasn't exactly known for acting on a whim.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "you may explain the situation to Genya. She knows the need for discretion in such matters. And all my Grisha will understand the meaning of this," he traced the gold embroidery on his kefta.
Alina let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding in. It was all new to her, whatever was between her and Aleksander, but she was very relieved to have him confirm that he considered it as serious as she did.
Yesterday, she had hoped for a quiet evening, a quick escape from the Winter Fete.
What she had got, she decided, was infinitely better.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
The next chapter is an interlude from Mal's POV. I'm hoping it will be out next Monday but I'm away this coming weekend with no chance to write so apologies if it ends up being a few days late.