The day progressed without the sunlight really managing to fight its way through the thick fog. Genya was not superstitious, yet even she wondered by now if the heavy curtain of clouds over Os Alta was a bad omen for the winter feast.

She entered her own room just before it was time for her presence in the Grand Palace. Her eyes immediately fell on the tied package that had been placed in the middle of her bed.

Genya hesitated and looked around cautiously. She hated strangers simply entering her room, disrupting the carefully constructed system of order and invading her privacy. Except for the package on her flawlessly smoothed bedspread, however, everything else seemed to be in perfect order.

Inspecting, Genya's gaze slid over her dressing table, which was loaded with all sorts of things she needed when she was working on herself.

Sometimes, when she wanted to be someone else so badly that she felt she had to get out of her skin, Genya dyed her hair brown. As brown as the hazelnuts that lay in a small bowl to the left of the mirror. Her eyes then turned as moss-green as the forest floor behind the Little Palace in midsummer.

Genya stepped up to her bedside and looked closely at the bundle. It was wrapped in the same paper that Alina's Kefta had been wrapped in. Carefully, Genya untied the strings and pushed the paper aside.

Delicate light blue satin was revealed, and Genya held the soft fabric up to the light. A dress. She stepped in front of the large mirror that took up almost an entire wall of her room and held the dress in front of her. The colour of the dress harmonised perfectly with that of her eyes, with that of her red hair.

It was long and would fit tightly, low-cut showing off quite a bit of her skin. Downright scandalously beautiful.

Genya frowned. This dress was made for her. She didn't trust the situation. She didn't usually get presents and if she did, they always came at a price.

She carefully spread the dress out on the bed and discovered a note and a small glass bottle. Both must have been wrappe‚d in the dress.

Genya picked up the note first and read the written words with a furrowed brow.

For tonight. Three hours before it takes effect.

Genya's gaze slid to the small glass bottle and the upcoming evening, and her mission suddenly became reality.

She had believed she would never have to do this again, had believed she had finally escaped her nightmare.

A ringing in her ears clouded her thoughts as she picked up the glass bottle. One last time, she prayed, one last time she would have to do this for Ravka and its future, for her own future.

Genya closed her hand around the small vessel and glanced at the clock. Three hours. She didn't have much time left.

"Help me get through this, Sankta Vasilka," Genya whispered, casting her eyes skyward. Sankta Vasilka, protector of unmarried women. Genya wanted to believe that she would stand by her. She placed the vial on her dressing table, loosened her hair with a casual twist of her wrist.

Then she began unbuttoning her Kefta. The dress lay on the bed like an ominous promise, the glass bottle on her dressing table was the nightmare come true. The Kefta was followed by the white blouse, the ivory-coloured trousers, the black, polished boots.

Genya turned away from all the mirrors as she also got rid of her underwear. She couldn't bear to look at her body, not when she was about to use it, betrayed for Ravka's freedom and her fervent desire to finally belong.

The liquid in the glass vial smelled of lavender and Genya dribbled some of the substance into her palm. With almost mechanical movements, she spread the poison over every inch of her skin. She ran over her forearms, upper arms, shoulders, her collarbone, her neck.

Genya reached for the vial again, spreading the poison all over her upper body. Several times she brushed cold hands over her breasts, her neck, the inside of her thighs. She knew where he would touch her, where he would want to place his lips, she knew where to apply the poison thicker to harm him.

In the meantime, Genya felt as if she was touching a stranger's body and no longer her own. She could feel the poison creeping under her skin, and she just prayed this would be worth it.

She had almost forgotten how scary it was to dance on a tightrope above the jaws of death, eyes fixed on the sky and just praying she didn't step next to the thin rope.

Genya did not wash her hands. Every bit of poison that got from hers to his skin mattered. She carefully slipped into the dress and saw in the mirror that she had been right. It fit like a glove, though it left much of her alabaster skin exposed. There was no way she could go to the festivities like that. Not when all the other Grisha would be wearing their Keftas, not after seeing what Alina would be wearing.

Genya rummaged through the large closet and finally decided on the long Kefta that was meant for formal occasions. Instead of putting on her usual uniform underneath, however, Genya kept the dress on. She slipped into her boots, buttoned the Kefta up to the collar and was only hardly distinguishable from all the other Grisha.

Just a little later, Genya was giving her red hair the finishing shine, there was a knock at her door.

"Come in," she rose quickly and smoothed the fabric of her Kefta.

"The Tsarina has sent for you," a messenger opened the door and Genya had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course, who else would. Even though she had visited the Tsarina only a week ago, the vain cow couldn't seem to get enough of Genya's skills.

"I will be on my way immediately," Genya replied dutifully, silently cursing the ruler.

Though she had long been used to jumping to the Tsarina's whim, obeying her orders, and serving as her whipping girl, anger still simmered in Genya.

She was tired of being used and pushed around, tired of all the humiliation. This was true of the Tsar and Tsarina as well as the Darkling himself.

But he could at least offer Genya a prospect of improvement, a reward for her services. Compensation for what she had to put up with on behalf of Ravka and all the Grisha living in it.

Furious, she dashed past the startled-looking messenger, out of her rooms and down the corridors.

Genya walked past the Darkling's council chamber, turned the corner and collided with someone at full force. Someone in a black Kefta. Alina.

The two Grisha lost their balance and within a split second Genya found herself half lying under Alina on the hard stone floor.

The air was forced from her lungs and Genya could manage no more than an exasperated grunt. Her anger at the Tsarina, like everything else was forgotten as Alina's face took up Genya's field of vision only inches away from hers. She had never noticed that the Sun Summoner's eyes were just as dark as the General's, only... warmer.

A second or two passed in which neither of them dared to breathe. Alina's weight on her body became abruptly apparent to Genya and she felt a delicate blush creep into her cheeks.

"I'm... I'm terribly sorry Genya," Alina finally stammered and got back to her feet, "I didn't mean to... I didn't see you."

She brushed the dust off her brand new Kefta and offered a hand to Genya, allowing the Tailor to rise as well. Fortunately, the corridor was completely deserted except for her and Alina, so no one had seen their mishap.

Genya also brushed the dust from the white fabric of her Kefta and just shook her head. "The blame lies with both of us," she murmured absently, avoiding the Sun Summoner's gaze. Still the blush had not disappeared from her cheeks and Genya wondered what in all the Saints names had just happened.

"Are you all right?", Alina grasped Genya's hand anxiously and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The Tailor was still stunned.

Alina looked devastatingly beautiful. The black of her Kefta made her hair look darker, the golden suns on the black fabric seemed to make her skin glow - Genya wondered if that had something to do with Alina's summoner abilities. Or had she really worked on her that much? But the longer she looked at Alina, the more confused Genya became.

"Yes," she finally managed to utter, shaking her head slightly, "thank you Alina, I'm fine." She looked at the Sun Summoner for a moment to see if anything about her work was damaged; Alina, however, looked as perfect as ever.

Genya's gaze drifted to Alina's hand, and she suddenly remembered the poison that was on her skin. A little too jerkily, she pulled away from her and a look of hurt flashed across Alina's otherwise cheerful face.

Before Genya could find clarifying words, the Darkling's smooth voice suddenly sounded behind her. "Alina?"

He pronounced her name like a prayer and even Genya could interpret the slightly glazed look on the Sun Summoner's face. She didn't dare turn around and remained standing with her back turned to her general while Alina's gaze darted back and forth between Genya and the Darkling in confusion.

"Black suits you perfectly," he stated, offering Alina his pale hand. The Sun Summoner extended her hand to him and Kirigan brought it briefly to his lips.

The delicate blush on Alina's cheeks, perfectly set up by Genya, deepened and her eyes began to shine. "General," she greeted him with a bright smile.

Genya felt a twinge. Where it came from, what exactly pained her about the sight, she could not say. So Genya didn't let on and merely straightened her shoulders.

"Wait for me in my council room," Kirigan instructed Alina, "I want to discuss something with Genya." Alina just nodded mutely and slowly moved away.

Genya watched her go, turning her head just far enough to see Alina now bring the hand Kirigan had brought to his lips to her own.

A door slammed shut and the General turned to Genya. He too had replaced his regular Kefta with the uniform meant for formal occasions and now looked more imposing, almost regal, than ever before.

"I see you received my gift," he said in his silken voice, pointing to the hem of the light blue dress that peeked out from under Genya's white Kefta with a twitch of his head.

"I did," Genya nodded, slowly regaining her composure. She knew Kirigan didn't expect thanks. He expected her to complete her mission perfectly.

"I expect perfection from you - now and tonight," he added, and Genya nodded again. Like a will-less doll, caught in the softness of his voice, lulled into his presence. Kirigan pulled up one corner of his mouth into a suggested smile, then slowly leaned in her direction. Genya backed away involuntarily, her back pressed against the cool wall.

The Darkling propped his palm beside her head and inhaled slowly and with relish, his face close to Genya's neck, "Lavender," he murmured.

Genya felt the poison burning all over her skin, struggled to keep her composure and nodded slightly.

"You forgot your lips," Kirigan's tone did not change, his finger on her neck though, was like a cool blade. He traced it over her skin, then stroked her lips. Genya could taste the poison. Her eyes remained fixed on his beautiful face, cool and smooth and in control at all times.

"Now go." He pushed himself off the wall and Genya swallowed dryly.

"Yes General," she murmured tonelessly and continued her way as if in a trance, his gaze still burning on her long after she was out of his sight.