Genya closed the last button of her Kefta. With great difficulty, she had sewn the torn buttons back on and now looked at her work in the stained hand mirror.

Even in the dim light, Genya had managed to change her face back to its original shape. Only a slight throbbing in her left temple reminded her of the last hour, which had been like her own personal hell. And it would only get worse.

Beautiful as ever, every square inch of her skin poisoned, Genya stepped out of the empty guest room. Leaving her kit behind, one of the guards would find it and take it to its place for safekeeping until Genya had to visit the Tsarina again.

She followed the sounds of music and the babble of voices and reached the ballroom where Alina would give her performance.

Thousands of candles lit the magnificently decorated halls, massive flower arrangements spilled over tables and railings. There was a smell of honey wine and meat roasted in garlic and pepper.

The Tsar and Tsarina were seated on a pedestal above their guests and occasionally deigned to smile arrogantly. Genya turned her face away and moved along the edge of the crowd, unseen by the many high-ranking individuals in the room. The buzz of voices was a hum of many foreign tongues, of different dialects. People and Grisha stood shoulder to shoulder, dressed in brightly coloured, foreign fabrics.

As a child, Genya had secretly followed the older Grisha, hiding between flower pots and candlesticks, watching the hustle and bustle, the clash of different cultures, from a safe distance. Hardly anything else had fascinated Genya as much as the splendid festivities organised by the Tsar and the Tsarina.

Now she wanted to merge with the shadows, make herself invisible and float out of the palace disembodied. She wanted to get away from here.

"Your Highnesses, ladies and gentlemen," Kirigan's voice carried low and clear over the crowd, filling every corner of the great room and snapping Genya out of her thoughts. The music and conversation ceased. Tensely, dozens of pairs of eyes turned to the general, who, dressed all in black, seemed to have grown out of the ground. He paused meaningfully, his gaze searching for someone in the crowd.

Alina stepped out of the mass of people and, with a flattered smile, grasped his outstretched hand.

"Alina Starkov," he gently pulled her towards him.

Alina climbed the two steps to the platform Kirigan had chosen as her stage. He spread his free arm, increasing the tension with yet another pause while Alina took her place at his side, "the Sun Summoner."

No one dared to stir.

Genya could still see the fear in Alina's gaze before the Darkling casually circled his wrist. Shadows crept across the floor and climbed the walls, extinguishing the candles and enveloping the hall in night-black darkness.

For a moment, every sense seemed numb. Genya could neither smell the food nor hear a single sound nor see anything but absolute blackness.

Slowly her eyes became accustomed to the darkness and some of the foreign guests gasped in fright.

Genya shivered. If only they knew how strong and dangerous the Darkling's power really was. Darkening a room was hardly worth mentioning.

Genya knew the stories of soldiers fighting alongside him, how he could kill a hundred men in the blink of an eye with blades of night and shadow.

Kirigan's shadow moved smoothly through the darkness as he descended from the platform to give Alina the space she needed.

Genya lost sight of him and instead looked to Alina's silhouette. The Sun Summoner hesitated. Tense, Genya ran her fingers over the top of her sleeve. The movement calmed her and she repeated it a few times until her heartbeat slowed again and the roaring in her ears grew fainter.

All at once, as if someone had ripped open the curtains, summer sunlight spilled into the room.

Genya blinked. Some of the guests raised their hands to shield their eyes from the glaring light; Genya's eyes burned. She wanted to avert her gaze but could not. Something inside her refused to let Alina out of her sight.

With a concentrated expression, the Sun Summoner held a ball of pure light between her hands. She lifted her arms slowly and it rose above the crowd, dividing into thousands and thousands of tiny particles of light that danced glittering through the dark air. Warmth and light poured over the crowd in waves and Genya briefly thought she was in a meadow in midsummer, her face stretched towards the sun.

She looked at Alina, whose gaze wandered to the Darkling. A smile appeared on her features, illuminated by her own light, then Alina turned her gaze to Genya.

She could not read Alina's expression, the smile remained, but the look in Alina's eyes shook Genya to her core. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach resembled an ecstatic leap as much as the fear-filled fall that followed.

Alina called the light to her, the shadows disappeared, and the hall found itself once again illuminated with candlelight. Instead of the ecstatic applause Genya expected, one of the noble women sank to her knees.

"Sankta Alina," she whispered, stunned, her hand on her heart. Many more followed her example, soon the room was filled with the sobbed, whispered or delightedly shouted words "Sankta" or "Sankta Alina".

"Music," the Tsarina clapped her hands impatiently and Alina descended from the platform to mingle. Like a magnet, she attracted all sorts of high-ranking people, eager to shake her hand or exchange a word with her. The Darkling, who usually never left her side, was nowhere to be seen. Genya had a feeling that she would have liked to ignore. Discreetly, she let her gaze wander and spotted the General only a few steps away to her left.

He looked at her coldly and Genya's insides froze. She followed his silent command and left the room after him, walking past the guards into the dimly lit stairwell.

A massive spiral staircase descended five floors, the railing overloaded with floral arrangements and silk ribbons that wove through the lush greenery and soft pastels. The candles in their holders on the wall flickered as the Darkling passed them. Genya followed him around a corner, where he stopped.

Without another word, Kirigan grabbed her chin and tugged it up roughly. Genya remained silent.

She hoped the poison on her skin would drive its claws into his heart and curdle the blood in his veins. The next moment she feared her own thoughts. She owed Kirigan everything, her life and more. It was not right to wish him dead.

Kirigan inspected her face, then let go of her chin.

"I see your skills continue to improve," he remarked, and Genya frowned slightly. Had he taken her here to tell her that?

She knew she was powerful, that was one of the few things she didn't need her General's confirmation on.

"Now pull yourself together," he then urged her coolly, "visiting the Tsarina is as much your mission as visiting the Tsar. I expect absolute discipline from you. Should you need to fix your face again, you are to do so discreetly."

Zoya. The name flashed through Genya along with a hot wave of anger. Had the Squaller actually gone straight to Kirigan?

"Yes General," she tightened her jaw and her teeth gritted. The slight throbbing in her left temple served as a reminder of her service to the Tsarina and further fuelled her rage. He let go of her chin.

"You're hiding." It wasn't his way to talk around things or put them into pretty phrases. When he wasn't trying to seduce her, his words were usually terse commands or statements. "Look at me." A command.

Genya lifted his gaze and looked at the spot between his eyebrows. The fine wrinkle that formed there in the pale, even skin was evidence of his displeasure.

"You know your task, Genya. Fulfil it and we are finally free, fail and you will feel my wrath."

His voice was hard-edged ice, colourless and cold.

Genya feared if she tried to speak, her voice would fail, so she just nodded silently.

The first time Kirigan had instructed her to go to the Tsar with poisoned skin, Genya had refused. The price had been long hours alone in Kirigan's council chamber, the poison slowly sinking into her flesh and intoxicating her senses. The general just sat quietly at his table, watching as the Tailor squirmed in pain. Genya didn't remember how she got to her room or how long she slept-only the excruciating pain when she awoke. No, she really didn't want to feel his wrath again.

Kirigan clasped his hands behind his back and nodded curtly. "Now go."

Genya turned on her heel and stopped in the corridor outside the ballroom. She had to compose herself first.

Out of nowhere, Zoya suddenly stood in front of her. A light breeze accompanied the Squaller where she walked and stood. It gave Genya the feeling that Zoya was constantly being carried by the wind, that something about her was always in motion. Mostly it was the long, full hair that floated in the breeze.

The striker looked guilty. Seeing that expression on her perfect features was so unfamiliar that Genya was briefly tempted to let the matter die down. Then she remembered Kirigan's words, and the drop of understanding evaporated on her hot anger with a soft hiss.

"I didn't mean to...," Zoya began, but Genya only lifted her hand.

"Go to hell," she replied coldly and pushed past her to disappear into the crowd. Zoya barely took half a step and grabbed Genya's wrist. The Tailor spun around and freed herself from her grip with a fierce movement.

"Touch me again and I swear you will regret it," Genya hissed and Zoya's expression darkened.

"Hear me out," she demanded, and Genya interrupted her with a snort.

"What are you trying to tell me? That you were worried?" she sneered, "Haven't you ever seen anyone with a bloody lip? And you couldn't think of anything better than running straight to Kirigan? Save your breath, Zoya."

The Squaller looked surprised. "No, I - " she began slowly, then fell silent.

"That's what I thought," Genya said quietly, smoothing her Kefta as she saw the Darkling walking down the corridor with long strides.

He gave Zoya a look that Genya didn't know how to interpret, then he had already passed them without giving her another glance.

"Now, if you will excuse me. I have a job to do, which you put in serious jeopardy with your little tête-à-tête with Maria," Genya added, turning away again, "You don't get to be privy to every plan Zoya. Maybe you're not as important as you think you are."

Genya knew it wasn't fair to speak to Zoya like that. Their mission was top secret and so far only the General himself and she knew about it. Zoya could not have known that she had caused almost irreparable damage with her intervention.

In the meantime, a few couples had found their way onto the dance floor, either dancing to traditional Ravkan songs or leaving the stage to the foreign guests as soon as the unfamiliar melodies from Shu Han or Kerch sounded. It was warm and Genya felt the need to get rid of her Kefta, or at least loosen the top buttons.

She brushed her anger off and took a deep breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement and saw Kirigan beckoning her to him. The Tsar was standing next to him.

Genya swallowed the rising nausea and exhaled slowly, putting on a smile and floating over to the two men who ruled Ravka.

"There she is, moi Tsar," Kirigan's voice had taken on the coaxing undertone he used when he wanted something. Genya stepped up beside the General and curtsied. "Moi Tsar," she said with a sweet smile. Her face ached.

"Ah yes," puffing, the Tsar extended his fat hand to her and Genya placed a submissive kiss on his signet ring, "I didn't think this beauty of yours would even show up today, Kirigan."

"Oh yes," the General's voice was still friendly, but the look he gave Genya was icy, "There's no way Genya would trample on your highness's generosity and not accept your invitation. Wouldn't you, Genya?"

Her smile did not crumble. She straightened up again. "I wouldn't miss these festivities for anything in the world."

"Moi Tsar," Alina stepped up beside Kirigan and curtsied for the Tsar. "I was hoping to steal Genya away for a moment, General?" she smiled so dazzlingly that there was no way Genya would have been able to refuse her anything. And yet she wondered - why did Alina want to talk to her? Genya looked at her briefly, nothing about her appearance needed her hand, so what was it then?

"I'm afraid that will have to wait," Kirigan didn't even hesitate. He gave Alina a quick glance, "Genya has been invited by the Tsar to his drawing room."

Genya forced another smile but remained silent.

"I will be waiting for you, beauty," the Tsar waved his hand awkwardly and walked away, two of his guards following on his heels.

"I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow," Genya assured Alina. The Sun Summoner's eyes darted back and forth between her and the Tsar. Before the realisation could spread legibly across Alina's face, Kirigan gallantly offered her his arm. "Come, I wanted to show you something."

She smiled at him and took his arm. Without looking at Genya again, Kirigan turned away and gently pulled Alina with him. Genya watched them go and saw Alina turn her head to look at her once more. Before their eyes could meet, however, Genya followed the Tsar out of the room.