The Future Is A Faded Song

Lillianna paced back and forth, her bell-like skirts swaying to and fro like the pink petals of a flower about to fall. Genya had just finished making the final touches to Lillianna's appearance, before abruptly taking her leave, no doubt taking some time alone to compose herself. It was uncharacteristic for Genya to lose control as she had, not with her penchant for being poised and perfect. On reflex, Lillianna's hand flew to her throat, still feeling Genya's fingers around it. Once again, she had forgotten who she wasn't and who Genya was.

The floor suddenly creaked behind her, making Lillianna whirl around, ringlets flying out around her face. The Darkling stood in the doorway, his handsome features rendered almost rictus. The sight reminded her vividly of last night, the memory making her stomach roil. Again, he didn't seem to be of a mind to observe the proprieties but she had made the mistake of appearing to be of the same mind. Not that any objections on her part now would have made any difference anyways, since his apparent consideration of her well-being was only surface.

The Darkling tilted his chin, his too dark gaze flickering over her with faint disinterest. Obviously Genya and the others had done their job well in tricking her out like a prize pony, everything executed to his satisfaction. Taking off his black leather gloves, the Darkling then came towards her, moving with that unnerving stealth that made her blood freeze. He threw the gloves onto her bed with careless grace, the ebony cutting a strong contrast against the ivory, a portent of their future together. "There has been a change of plan," he said coldly, startling her. "You will not attend the leave-taking today."

Lillianna stared at him. "Why?" she blurted out, bewildered. For hours she had put up with being dressed and decorated like a tree on the occasion of Sankta Nikolai and now it had all been for nothing.

"Unfortunately, Genya will not be attending you in the manner that you wish," the Darkling continued, acting as if she had not spoken, "she has enough constraints on her time. Genya will of course continue to oversee your household for the time being. But anything beyond that is out of the question."

Lillianna shook her head in disbelief. "Are you not aware of what is going on?" she exclaimed, anger overcoming her fear. "Of what is happening to her? Don't you at least have a duty of care" -

-"I have discussed the matter at length with Genya," the Darkling interrupted, halting her with his hand. "She has made her choice. Do not interfere where you do not understand."

Lillianna scoffed at this. "I understand more than you think," she said bitterly, "your broodmare surprisingly has a brain after all. Ever since arriving here, I've come to astonish myself on occasion."

The Darkling exhaled sharply, sweeping his hand over his dark head. "Genya told me that you were not enlightened of my intentions until the very last moment," he then said with exaggerated patience. "I apologise for this oversight but your mother informs me it was done with your best interests at heart. She explained that you are of a... delicate disposition and she consequently felt it more appropriate to tell you closer to the time."

"So I wouldn't baulk in the traces, is what you mean."

"What I mean is that I wished for the greatest of discretion regarding the situation," the Darkling said, startling Lillianna by suddenly sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Your safety was of paramount importance. It may be hard to believe, but I do have your best interests at heart."

"Well, you have to protect your investment, don't you?" Lillianna said smartly, picking up an ornate perfume bottle, before setting it down again, fighting the insane urge to throw it at his head.

The Darkling looked at her for a long moment. "You asked if I needed a sun or a son," he said abruptly, startling her, "but that is beside the point. Children will be a natural consequence of our union, if the Saints grant us that... blessing."

Jaw tightening, Lillianna studied him in turn, seeing through his fine words, how he was neatly evading the issue. The very idea of bearing his children suddenly struck her as utterly ridiculous. For another mad moment, she was tempted to laugh, her lips trembling threateningly at the thought before she steadied herself.

The Darkling arched a brow. "Whether our children are otkazat'sya or Grisha is irrelevant," he then said smoothly, too smoothly, "all that matters is that they will be raised as good Ravkan citizens who will love their country as their father does."

"But did you really know my father?" Lillianna snapped, voice cracking. "Or was that another falsehood to get what you wanted?"

"He was a good man," the Darkling said, unperturbed. "A fine soldier."

Lillianna picked up the perfume bottle again, before putting it down, trying to find the truth in his lie, head still reeling at what Genya had said, Genya who had just went to the Darkling, telling him everything. All that made sense was that her mother had indeed sold her to the highest bidder after all, Lillianna feeling like a fool to have thought otherwise.

"If you want to throw it at me, you have my permission," the Darkling said lightly, making Lillianna's head snap up in surprise. "The perfume bottle," he explained, gesturing to it. "That's the third time you've picked it up since I came in."

Lillianna slammed it back down on the dressing table, her hands shaking despite themselves. In vain, she tried to smooth back her hair to hide it, only to further rumple the damned ringlets.

The Darkling watched her with an amused expression, which only served to disconcert Lillianna even more. She couldn't connect the cold stranger with the relaxed man in front of her, the Darkling fading from one to the other in mere moments. "You're looking to lash out at me again, aren't you?" he observed, leaning forwards. "First, the summer peaches. Then, Genya" -

- "I did not" -

- "Hideous, isn't it?" the Darkling said as she picked up the perfume bottle for the fourth time. "Remind me to pick you out something prettier."

Lillianna set it down once more, fuming. "It's execrable," she choked out, "and so are your manners."

"You know I visited your estate a few times during scouting expeditions to the North," the Darkling said conversationally, as if she hadn't just insulted him, getting to his feet, "I believe there is good hunting to be had there."

Lillianna tried and failed to compose herself. "My father always said so," she said stiffly. "It's where the wolf pelt for my shuba came from."

The Darkling suddenly stepped towards her, making Lillianna take an involuntary step back in turn. "I don't hold you at fault for wearing that shuba. But understand this. Only Etherealki are allowed to wear that shade of blue," he said simply, advancing on her again, "the same as I'm the only Grisha allowed to wear the colour black unless I decree otherwise. Perhaps these customs seem quaint to you. However, whilst you are not Grisha, you are to be my wife and therefore have a position of import to uphold. So you must respect the rules we live by for I cannot be seen permitting you to break them."

As he stood there, towering over her, Lillianna had to fight the urge to flee, remembering what Genya had said of his rage at Varvara's indiscretion. "If - if - if you wished to be discreet, you shouldn't have sent your own troika and carriage, then," she then said with some difficulty, remembering the heavily cushioned black velvet seats and the distinctive two overlapping circles etched in the glass windows, depicting the sun in eclipse.

The Darkling looked down at her, eyes unexpectedly becoming amused again. "As you so picturesquely put it, I had to protect my investment," he then said, inclining his dark head with mocking courtliness.

Lillianna stared up at him, sudden rage rushing to her head like wine, making her see red. Before she realised what she was doing, she slapped him across the face, the force of the blow making her reel back. The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot. Time seemed to hold its breath, Lillianna rooted to the spot, chest heaving. The Darkling simply stood there, dark hair falling over his brow, his face utterly bloodless apart from the scarlet staining his skin. Without a word, he took her hand, the very one she had struck him with, before raising it to his lips, his brutal kiss burning her flesh. And then he was gone, his cloak swirling behind him like smoke.

The only hope, or else despair
Lies in the choice of pyre of pyre
To be redeemed from fire by fire...