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 Sea Whip
Genya took one look at Alina and knew.
"Are you sure?" the Tailor asked her seriously, "because it's ok if you're not, Alina. You do not have to do anything you don't want to."
Alina knew that Genya had good reason to be cautious, to be worried on her behalf.
After all, Aleksander was more than capable of inflicting both physical and emotional damage on her, if he wanted to.
The thing was … she knew he didn't want to.
"I'm sure," she promised her friend, "so wonderfully sure."
Genya laughed then, clearly amused by the sappy smile on Alina's face, and ran her finger across the mark on Alina's neck, "do you want me to remove this?"
She shook her head. The mark was a reminder of some very good memories, and she'd rather enjoyed the way Aleksander's gaze grew more heated every time he glanced at it.
"I'm happy for you," Genya said sincerely, "and a little jealous, really."
"David loves you," Alina insisted.
"You're sweet, darling," the Tailor sighed, "and I know he loves me. It's only, I won't be truly free until he is gone."
She knew who her best friend was referring to, knew the trauma that Genya hid under pretty smiles and a polished façade. Alina reached out to hug her tightly, hating that the situation was still hard even if they had successfully managed to keep the King away from the Tailor for months.
"Soon," she promised Genya, "I swear."
It was coming, it had to be. Aleksander hadn't exactly said it out loud, but she had learnt to read his silences, his glances. It wouldn't be long.
"Well, enough of my moping," Genya said brightly, the tremor in her voice barely noticeable, "we better finish your packing."
Alina scoffed, "as if you haven't already arranged everything perfectly."
"Perhaps," her friend admitted, "but you might want to check my work."
Alina shook her head, "I trust you, Genya."
"Well, that's good, because Baghra wants to see you and you haven't got long."
"Baghra?" she asked curiously, "what does she want?"
"Who knows," Genya shrugged, "all I can say is – better you than me."
-x-x-x-
"Close the door, girl," Baghra ordered, "are you trying to freeze me."
Alina didn't bother offering any sort of retort. No matter how ridiculously hot Baghra kept her hut, the woman always scolded her visitors for letting in a breath of fresh air.
"Genya said you wanted to see me."
"Yes. They tell me that you and my fool of a son are going to search for the sea whip."
Alina wasn't sure exactly who 'they' were but she assumed it was some of the few Grisha who seemed to have more loyalty to Baghra than to Aleksander. She could never exactly figure out why that was the case – Baghra might teach most of the students but Aleksander had certainly done more for the Grisha than Baghra ever had.
There was no use worrying about it, though. Aleksander kept a close eye on those who interacted with his mother and dealt with them in his own way.
"Yes," she replied, "we're leaving in an hour or so."
Baghra sighed deeply, "and I suppose you'll pay no attention to my warnings. Grisha power was never meant to be limitless."
"Morozova's amplifiers were designed to be used together," Alina countered.
"So says one version of the story. Who knows really," Baghra muttered bitterly, "the Bonesmith was mad by the end, no one can really be sure what exactly he planned, and whether he actually managed it."
Alina thought of trying to justify herself. She could attempt to explain the itching on her wrist, the desperate need in her soul for the sea whip.
Baghra wasn't likely to be impressed.
Alina knew, though, that one amplifier would not be enough, not for the Fold.
With one amplifier she had managed a thin path through the Fold. With a second, she could hopefully widen it and maybe create further pathways.
She deliberately didn't want to think about the third amplifier. Perhaps she would crave it like she did the sea whip, but something told her that it might be wiser to leave the firebird alone.
Baghra did have point, after all. Power shouldn't be limitless and she wouldn't put it past whatever gods or forces of nature kept the world turning to consider it a huge cosmic joke to take everything from her if she chose to wear the third amplifier.
And if she didn't die, or find herself stripped of her power, what would become of her with three amplifiers?
Aleksander was terrifyingly powerful, so much so that he would live indefinitely as she would, but he did have limits.
If Alina had three amplifiers would she have limits, would there be anyone to stop her if she lost control?
Or would she become some sort of vengeful being, entirely lost and without humanity.
The idea petrified her.
"I don't want absolute power," she told Baghra, unwilling to share her other thoughts with the woman she didn't fully trust.
"Hmph," Baghra snorted, "perhaps not now. We'll see what happens after a few decades with my son."
And that was where Alina believed Baghra fundamentally misunderstood Aleksander. Power was incredibly important to him and it always would be, but he had spent centuries lonely, waiting for the Sun Summoner. He would probably guess just as she did that there was a risk to taking the third amplifier, that she might lose her power and the eternal life that resulted from it. And if that happened then he would eventually lose her.
Aleksander feared very little, but she knew he hated the thought of being alone.
Alina wanted to tell Baghra that she didn't need to believe the worst of everyone, that it wasn't true that all things were bound to turn into disasters eventually.
She wasn't quite brave enough, though. And she thought that Baghra, more than most, could be forgiven for believing the worst of humanity.
"I have to go," she said instead.
The old woman simply waved her away, moving closer to the fire.
Was there anything to be done for Baghra?
It often seemed as if the woman loved and hated her son in equal measure, that she considered it entirely futile to try and make Ravka safe for Grisha because everyone but them would turn to dust soon enough.
It was a depressing view to take, really, one that seemed almost entirely devoid of hope.
Saints, would Alina end up like that one day? Bitter and twisted and tired and so very, very sad.
Alina wanted the middle ground. She didn't want to forget her friends or her pain, but she needed to be able to move forward, to keep living on and on and on.
Deep, dark thoughts for a seventeen-year-old.
She put such worries aside for the moment. She had to focus on the sea whip, and then on whether she could widen the path through the Fold.
Any existential crisis would just have to wait.
Four days later
"A storm is coming, moya soverennya," Tomek warned her, "would you like to go inside the tent?"
As Aleksander had predicted, careful notice was taken of the threads of gold woven into his kefta. He still wore all black some of the time, but a number of his keftas now featured her colours and it was a clear sign to all the Grisha and oprichniki of the shift in Alina and Aleksander's relationship.
They'd begun calling her moya soverennya soon after they began their journey towards Os Kervo and, though it was odd to begin with, she appreciated the mark of respect and acceptance of her relationship with their General.
None of them batted an eye at her sharing Aleksander's tent, or his bedroll. In fact, they clearly expected it since they hadn't bothered to pack a separate tent for her.
Alina noticed that Mal seemed horrified whenever she emerged in the morning, as if he thought she'd undergone some sort of torment overnight. She spoke to him most days, asking to hear tales from his time in the army and telling him stories about the Little Palace, but he never seemed comfortable hearing about how she had developed her power or her Grisha friends.
Mal liked to talk about Keramzin, clearly nostalgic for years gone by. Alina tried to contribute to the conversation, but she really remembered very little from her time in the orphanage and didn't miss those days in the way Mal seemed to.
They made their way towards the coast using largely minor roads and routes that were not well-travelled. It wasn't common knowledge that the Sun Summoner was travelling outside the Little Palace and they wanted to keep it that way.
Those left back in Os Alta, like Genya, Marie, Nadia and Zoya, had been ordered to keep Alina's absence from those in the Grand Palace for as long as possible. The King, ill again, was not likely to be a problem, but the Apparat was a different story.
She knew he had a large following across the country, that he manipulated the people and stoked the fires of their religious fervor. He might call for her to be worshipped as a saint, but she didn't trust him to have her best interests at heart, or Ravka's.
The plan was for them to disguise themselves as a normal supply ship when crossing the Fold using the pathway Alina had created. She and Aleksander would have to stay below deck, as the most recognisable figures, but she didn't think there would be much of an issue.
The presence of Grisha by the Fold wouldn't be too much of a problem. Squallers were still used for some of the skiffs, to keep the traffic on the path as fast-moving as possible, and it wasn't uncommon to see other Grisha travelling to the west side of Ravka to get supplies or reinforce the First Army.
Shaking her thoughts away and shivering slightly at the harsh wind, Alina ducked inside the tent as Tomek had suggested.
It wasn't much warmer inside – Fabrikator work was good, however there was only so much it could do to keep the cold out of the Grisha tents – but at least there was a small stove and a bedroll with a pile of inviting blankets and furs.
Aleksander was sat at his travel desk, reading through a pile of paperwork and making copious notes with a frown on his face.
"Everything alright?" she asked.
He nodded absently, "just trying to ensure all the pieces are where they need to be."
She rolled her eyes, "cryptic much. You're going to have to tell me the plan eventually, you know."
He snagged her hand as she walked past, pressing his lips to her wrist, "soon," he promised her, "there are still a few variables to be dealt with."
"Is Prince Nikolai one of them?" she asked.
He glanced at her approvingly, "such a clever mind, solntse. We do need to wait and see if he makes a move, since we've now made him aware that we have the proof of his illegitimacy. The question is whether he will wisely choose to melt into obscurity, or if he will try and challenge for the throne."
"Well, we'll have to hope he picks the first option. It would be nice to avoid bloodshed somewhere."
She knew it wouldn't be possible for many of the other pieces in this chess match that Aleksander had been playing for so long. The King would have to die, Vasily and the Apparat too, and that did not really bother her. The Queen could probably be pushed into exile. They would have to see how many of the nobles fell into line.
"Hmm," was Aleksander's only response.
He wasn't nearly as averse as she was to bloodshed, didn't have the same moral scruples about it. If it would keep their people safe and their country strong, he'd find a way to justify his actions. It was true that it would be easier if Nikolai were dead, but she'd heard nothing objectionable about him, saw no reason why he should die simply because his mother was unfaithful and cruel, and his step-father a philandering, abusive and greedy man.
"Will you come to bed?" she asked.
The tent wasn't exactly conducive to the sort of love-making they'd enjoyed in his bedroom in the Little Palace, but she liked feeling Aleksander's warmth next to her as she slept, enjoyed the simple sensation of being held against his chest under the blankets.
And if his hand slipped lower, if he kissed her thoroughly to muffle her moans as he rocked into her, well … that was just a bonus.
He looked at his papers, as if assessing whether there was anything requiring his urgent attention. Clearly, there was not, since he stood and followed her to their bedroll.
She felt the urge to preen a little as she watched her undress with a half-smile, but it really was too cold to linger in her nightclothes, so she slipped under the blankets, sighing happily at the feeling of being snug and cosy.
He joined her quickly, sending tendrils of shadows throughout the room to snuff out the candles, then settling in next to her.
She could feel his hardness pressing into her back and wriggled her hips a little, receiving a pinch on her waist in return, "behave, milaya," he warned her.
She moved again, unable to resist teasing him.
He growled a little, lifted her up and turned them so that he was on his back and she was straddling him, "well then, my Alina," he told her, "take what you want, if you think that you can manage it without waking the rest of the camp."
It was a challenge to be sure, one she wasn't sure she'd succeed at.
Still, she couldn't resist him, no matter what looks she might get in the morning.
(the next day dawned bright and clear. Ivan only shook his head. Fedyor winked at her. Her oprichniki tried to hide their smiles. Mal wouldn't look her in the eye).
They crossed through the Fold pathway without incident, seen by outsiders as just another skiff taking goods for trade in the west.
Alina thought it was a shame that she couldn't see more of Os Kervo, but Aleksander insisted that she needed to stay hidden as much as possible. Although most of the population didn't really know exactly what the Sun Summoner looked like, it was likely that they would look with interest at any young woman with Shu features seen in the company of Grisha and oprichniki.
Their ship was waiting for them, already arranged by some of the Grisha spies that Aleksander had in the west.
She walked onto the ship with a barely-restrained curiosity. It would be her first sea voyage, her first time outside of Ravka.
Although she knew they wouldn't see much, being in the middle of the sea, it was still an exciting experience for her.
She only hoped they found what they were looking for.
Alina tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.
To begin with, she had found the gentle rocking of the ship helped her enjoy a good night's rest, but the longer their sea voyage went on, the more she began to be plagued with dreams of the sea whip.
Her empty wrist almost seemed to ache now, as if it could sense the amplifier close by.
As she shifted once more, she felt Aleksander stir next to her and she frowned guiltily when his eyes opened.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, "I should go and sleep in one of the bunks so that you can get some rest."
He tugged her close, pressing a kiss to her hair as his hand settled around her waist, "don't be ridiculous, solntse."
She tried to settle into his embrace but she still couldn't get the image of the sea whip out of her head, no matter how much she wanted to.
Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen.
Rather than complaining, Aleksander simply pulled her even nearer, dipping his head to nip playfully at her neck, having clearly decided the best way to deal with her difficulty sleeping was to tire her out.
Alina's giggle turned into a long moan as he pressed featherlight kisses to her collarbone and moved his hand downward, skimming her thigh but never quite reaching exactly where she wanted it to go.
"You'll have to be quiet, milaya," he murmured, "unless you want everyone to know exactly what we're doing."
His sinful smirk made it quite clear that he had absolutely no problem with them waking the entire ship, if that was what she wanted.
She supposed that after centuries of living, Aleksander has probably lost all semblance of modesty. She, however, was not yet at that stage, making a concerted effort to muffle her cries in the same way she'd attempted in the tent during the journey, even as his clever hands made her want to scream.
In the end, Alina didn't entirely succeed in keeping herself silent. Inevitably, there would be more conspiratorial grins from Fedyor, more eye-rolling from Ivan, more disgust from Mal.
(she still couldn't figure out why her old friend hated Aleksander so much).
She did, however, enjoy a refreshing, dream-free sleep for the rest of the night.
Aleksander's smug grin suggested he thought the whole thing a very successful endeavour.
Alina tried to find a little time each day to continue her experiments with attempting to summon without using her hands.
It wasn't exactly easy, on a ship where everyone always seemed to be on top of each other unless they were out on the deck, but she usually managed to find half an hour or so.
She suspected that Aleksander knew what she was doing, but he never challenged her and made a point to leave her alone in their cabin every now and then.
Little victories, that was what she always aimed for.
She could make herself glow brightly now, without any need to use her hands. And then, with a little concentration, she could focus that light into a blinding beam. She was still having issues with the heat aspect, couldn't yet manage to get it past hot and onto boiling.
Still, she felt far more confident about her chances if she had the misfortune to be captured.
Perhaps, when the Lantsovs were finally dealt with, she'd have a chat with Aleksander about trying to teach all Grisha to use their gifts without the use of hand-movements.
After all, her people deserved everything that could be taught to them in order to keep them safe.
A little less than a week into their voyage, Alina spotted the first ice floes in the dark sea.
They moved slower now, carefully maneuvering around the ice and changing direction regularly based on the trackers' suggestions.
One tracker, really. Mal had always had a preternatural skill, but it seemed to have become even more powerful since they were children. Most of the trackers seemed to lose their abilities out on the open sea, but Mal had no such problem.
Thank the Saints, really. She was enjoying the chance to cross the True Sea, but she had quickly decided that she didn't much fancy long boat trips.
It was still hard to talk to Mal. He spent most of the day watching the sea, occasionally calling out a change in direction, and during his free time he made friends with the otkazat'sya crew members, carefully avoiding all the Grisha.
She tried not to feel hurt. It was true that they had been apart for nine years, that they weren't the same as they had been as children, and that Keramzin was a distant memory to her, but they had been best friends once. Even if they wouldn't be as close as they had been then, it would have been nice to at least be friendly, and to know that he accepted her as Grisha.
Instead, Mal seemed to swing rapidly between staring intensely at her in a way that made her a little uncomfortable or total avoidance.
He seemed to have an unreasonable hatred of Aleksander too. She might have put it down to his general dislike of Grisha, but he never glared so fiercely at any of the others (even Ivan) the way he did with Aleksander.
"He's jealous, Alina," Fedyor told her one evening.
"But why?" she asked.
She was only a childhood friend, after all, one he hadn't seen in almost a decade. Why would he care whose bed she slept in?
Fedyor only shook his head, a little amusement on his face, "never mind, malen'kiy."
"Hey, I'm not that small," she protested.
He grinned and ruffled her hair, "still shorter than me."
She elbowed him playfully, darting out of the way as he tried to get her back. They both fell through the doorway into the galley, in search of something warm to drink to ward off the chill.
Mal was sat in the corner with two other trackers. He turned his gaze on her as she entered, a confused sort of disbelief as he saw her laughing with Fedyor. He appeared to find her favourite Heartrender almost as intimidating as Ivan (she still didn't understand that) and looked shocked every time he caught them joking or talking together.
Sadly, it seemed Mal had probably bought into some of the many ridiculous myths about the Grisha that were whispered throughout Ravka and other countries.
The Grisha do not have souls. The bloodletters sacrifice babies to achieve their power. The witches set fires to burn innocents alive. They can shapeshift into vicious monsters. They Grisha are cannibals. They worship devils.
Alina couldn't quite comprehend the tales some people would believe, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the Apparat didn't help – he might praise her as a Sankta (a martyr, probably, if he had his way) but she knew he decried the Grisha as a whole.
She'd been sheltered from such rumours when she was younger, kept safe in the Little Palace. It was only recently that she had been made aware of the stories, lies that even some of the trackers on the ship seemed to believe, although they were not foolish enough to speak of such things out loud.
It was painful to think that Mal believed the worst of Grisha, that he could spend weeks in close quarters with them and still consider them somehow inhuman.
The worst part was that he didn't put her in the same category. As if he thought she wouldn't care that he shied away from Grisha, that he despised Aleksander without ever explaining why. As if she was somehow different simply because they had been friends at the orphanage.
Well, they might need Mal to help track the sea whip, but Alina wasn't about to speak with him unless necessary. If he was going to hover one moment and ignore her the next, then she would just leave him to his own devices.
Mal had been everything to her once. However, if he wasn't going to accept that she'd changed and grown over the time they had been apart, then she wanted nothing to do with him.
A day later, the ship passed between two slate stone islands Alina recognised from her geography lessons: Jelka and Vilki, the Fork and Knife. They were in the Bone Road now, a long stretch of water where countless ships had been wrecked.
She assumed the sailors were experienced enough to steer them safely through – Aleksander wasn't the sort to be careless, especially when it came to a ship containing himself, her and a number of powerful Grisha.
The ship slowed as they sailed through the mist and everyone who didn't have to be on deck spent most of their time inside, however crowded it got, since it felt eerily uncomfortable to stand on deck barely able to see the other side of the ship.
Alina watched everyone carefully, wary that arguments could break out with so many people in such close quarters.
Thankfully, the trackers tended to stick together, as did the Grisha. While she wished the groups would mix, that there wasn't such a clear line drawn between them, she knew that a ship in the middle of the sea, with all of them on a stressful mission, perhaps wasn't the best time to be encouraging friendships.
Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long to find Rusalye. It would hopefully make things much less tense once they found their quarry.
"Do you think I'll need to kill it?" she asked Aleksander one evening, "maybe it will be like the Stag."
He shook his head, "Morozova's Stag was unique in more ways that its amplification ability. Rusalye is a younger legend."
She knew the story. Every child in Ravka did. A cursed prince, forced to take the form of a sea serpent and guard the frigid waters of the Bone Road. She had no idea if there was any truth in the tale.
Still, she thought the Darkling was probably right. She dreamt of the sea whip, but she wasn't sure it would be as accommodating as the Stag. While it was nice to believe the creature would simply shed a few scales for her, she thought it was unlikely.
Alina sighed, sorry and frustrated.
"Morozova's amplifiers were meant for you, Alina," Aleksander said, "the Stag was different, but I believe the sea whip will require the traditional method. You must be sure that you can do this, for you will probably only have one chance."
Briefly, she imagined letting the sea whip go, abandoning the search.
She couldn't do it, though. The amplifier called to her, the balance to the Stag's antler bones around her wrist.
If she had to kill the sea whip then she would.
"I can do it," she promised Aleksander.
He pressed a kiss to her hair, one of his hands encircling her bare wrist, sending a jolt of power through her, "you can," he agreed.
It was close. She knew it. Soon she would have her second amplifier.
The day they found Rusalye, the morning mist was heavier than ever. She stood on the deck and couldn't see a thing unless it was right in front of her.
She didn't like it. Fedyor, Ivan and the other Heartrenders liked it even less, since their ability to sense heartbeats was limited to those they could actually see.
Thankfully, though, the mist began to burn off in the afternoon sun. It was still hazy, but at least they could see their surroundings a little better.
"It's near," she heard Mal murmur as he stood on one side of the deck, watching the water carefully.
He gave careful instructions to the crew. For the next hour they moved slowly through the water, changing course slightly every few minutes.
Next to Alina, Aleksander was tense with anticipation. Rusalye wasn't just an amplifier, but an ancient creature none of them had ever encountered before. Just to be able to see it would be an experience.
Fifteen minutes later, they spotted something moving towards them in the mist, a shimmering shape.
"Saints," she heard about half a dozen people breathe out in unison.
At that moment, the creature's back breached the waves, its body cutting through the water in a sinuous arch, rainbows sparking off the iridescent scales on its back.
"Rusalye," Alina whispered, stepping forward almost without realising it so that she could get a closer look.
She heard Aleksander giving orders to the crew, heard them preparing the harpoons.
She moved further forward, trying to meet the creature's eyes. She wanted to know if the sea whip was anything like Morozova's Stag, if there was any chance that she could let it live.
It was clear enough in mere seconds, though, that Rusalye wasn't like the Stag. Magnificent, to be sure, and centuries old, but the sea whip didn't hold the spark the Stag did, the one that showed it was part of the making at the heart of the world.
Alina looked back at Aleksander and shook her head, a single tear dripping down her cheek.
He nodded and then the harpoons were flying through the air.
The next fifteen minutes were a blur.
Aleksander insisted she wait inside the cabin with David, unwilling to risk either of them being injured by the sea whip as they were pulling it onto the deck.
The rest of them would be fine.
Probably.
Saints, she hated worrying and not being able to do anything about it.
There were shouts outside, the ship rocking slightly, a cry of pain that made her want to wrench the door open and help them, Aleksander's orders be damned.
Half a dozen times, Alina went to wrench open the door. She held herself back, though. She didn't have much practical combat experience, a downside to Aleksander's determination to keep her safely inside the Little Palace when she was younger.
It was true that she could perhaps blast the sea whip with searing light, but she didn't really know how she could use her power against the creature without running the risk of destroying it completely and losing the scales she would need for her amplifier. The trackers and more experienced Grisha would know how to properly subdue the sea whip without killing it outright.
And then a knock came.
"Alina," Fedyor called out, "it's time."
She rushed out, looking around at the chaos on the deck.
Rusalye lay pinned down on the deck, writhing fiercely despite the ropes tying it down. Winglike fins, gleaming scales and wrathful red eyes. Its mouth opened as it snarled to reveal rows of sharp, white teeth.
There was a litany of injuries to be seen. Bloody arms and faces, plenty of wounds and, in one horrible case, a tracker had lost most of their left leg.
Aleksander, untouched apart from his slightly disheveled hair, offered her a knife, but she shook her head. She didn't have the physical strength for the kind of cut that would be required to slice through the creature's neck, and the sea whip deserved a quick death, rather than a painful, lingering one.
She summoned the light, letting it build and build. Then she calmed her mind, focused on the sea whip's neck, ignoring everything around her. The light coalesced into a blade, sharper than Grisha steel, and with a focused aim that came of a great deal of practice on the old trees in the grounds of the Little Palace, Alina neatly severed the sea whip's head from its neck.
Then she stood there, frozen, until Aleksander came over and wrapped his arms around her, "it is done, solntse."
Alina only nodded, tears dripping down her face.
Fedyor took the knife over to David and helped him work a few of the scales free, bringing them to Alina.
She stretched out her arm, her bare wrist waiting for a new bracelet.
David murmured as he worked, and in no time at all the scales were sealed in a fetter around her wrist.
For one brief moment she admired their beauty.
Then the world was engulfed in bright, white light.
And Alina screamed.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
The next chapter should hopefully be out next Monday.