Chapter 3

Aleksander let her drift asleep in his arms. He didn't think he could sleep, but he didn't mind. His body was strong from using his power recently, and he was quite content to revel in the heaven of having her in his arms. For the first time in centuries, he had hope. Alina could be everything-the end of his worries with the Fold, the power needed to stop the torture and murder of Grisha everywhere, and maybe even the soulmate strong enough to match his lifeline. He tried not to get too carried away with his dreams, but it was difficult as she lay half naked beside him with only his black kefta draped around her.

Ivan was in the war room and pacing with anxious energy, he could hear, despite Fedyor's attempts to calm him down. It was likely important. Ivan didn't rattle easily. He really should go see what it was, but it was difficult to pull himself away from her.

Eventually, he forced himself to leave the bedchamber and hear the report. He sighed. "What is it?"

Ivan strode to his side, nodded in respect, and then quickly dived in. "Marie and Genya were attacked in the fitting room. Alina was the target."

He clenched his fists. He had expected something like this, thus why he had insisted on the decoy in the first place, but his anger at them for actually attempting it … he found it hard not to unleash a dark burst throughout the Little Palace. "Who?" he asked. He would kill those responsible. How dare they try to kill her just for being different, for being special? Grisha had endured the attempted genocide of their people for far too long.

"We have a suspect in custody. He's being held for your interrogation, sir."

"Good," he said. He appreciated having someone to torture for it. He would make the death slow. And he would enjoy it. His darkness needed to be released.

"Genya?"

"Alive. Shaken, but well, sir. The assassin shot her straight in the chest, but it hit her kefta."

He was relieved. Genya was a favorite of his. She understood ambition and sacrifice for her people. "Marie?"

Ivan shook his head. It took all of Aleksander's control not to let darkness fill the room again. That could have been Alina, would have been Alina if not … And she would have been gone just as easily as Luda had been taken from him, just for being Grisha. Dark emotions overwhelmed him. He really needed someone to kill. Luckily, the moron had been stupid enough to get caught so he could do just that.

He glanced behind him at Alina's sleeping form in his bed. "Fedyor, stay in my chambers with her, keep her in a calm sleep until I return."

Fedyor nodded his acknowledgement.

"If anyone besides myself or your partner approaches this room, anyone at all, kill them." He was taking no chances with Alina's life. The assassin was likely not alone, and he could not lose her.

He noticed Ivan's eyes looking at her with curiosity. He met his heartrender's gaze and cocked his head to ask if he was really peeking at her, and then he used his power to cast a shadow over her body for her privacy.

"Is that how you're going to convince her to wear the Stag?" Ivan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aleksander stared at him until he made Ivan nervous enough to add a quick "sir."

He quickly checked his protective instincts. Ivan was trustworthy, not at all interested in women, and thoroughly committed to their plans. "She doesn't require convincing. She wants to. She wants to protect and help Grisha, and she knows she needs more power for it. She will do it willingly. Our interests are aligned."

"And if your interests are ever not in line?"

He shrugged. He didn't want to go to that possibility, that she might turn on him and betray him some day, that someday she might not understand his determination to protect Grisha. It was not a good thing to be thinking about when he was already riled. Ivan had likely done that on purpose. Ivan had been pushing caution with Alina and making sure they could control her power. David had a theory on how they could make that possible, but Aleksander didn't like it, and Ivan knew it. Ivan was probably using the moment to remind him what it felt like when things went wrong. When you trusted the wrong person, Grisha ended up dead. Aleksander did not need that reminder, and he was overwhelmed with enough dark thoughts without dwelling on these theoreticals. "Show me to this assassin." He would direct his darkness where it belonged.