Chapter Three: Gratitude
She was regretting her third blini.
Ivan snorted as he continued to herd her to the pavilion, "Wipe that stupid look off your face. People will ask about it."
"Consort," she echoed.
"Don't go getting ideas," Ivan muttered as the lakeshore came into view. Alina was too unsettled to appreciate that first glimpse of freedom, "It's only something to keep the nobles distant. There's no privileges with the title."
Alina's stomach twisted. Privileges. The thought never occurred to her. She was too fixated on the word, and how horrible it sounded. "Is that like. A wif-"
He rolled his eyes, "Don't be a child."
She took a breath. While she had no doubt that the Darkling had attempted to seduce her in order to make a new pawn on his chessboard, she wasn't sure what it meant that his game was continuing after the collar. After their deal. It did nothing to help the roiling in her gut. He's all over you.
"Why," she finally muttered.
Ivan sent her a chastising look, "Why does it matter."
"Because it's my life."
"He is the Darkling. No one-" a pointed stare at her, "-questions his plans."
She swallowed, "So you agree, then."
Ivan looked affronted at the mere possibility, "On what?"
"That it's part of a plan."
His face screwed up into an expression of incredulity, before the Heartrender shook his head, "Of course it's a plan. Now, move. If you want to train with Botkin so badly."
She thought of Baghra. The collar. And how she might need it off sooner rather than later. Alina smothered the questions she needed answered. And instead walked towards the sparring ring.
"Little girl is distracted," Botkin said in a disapproving tone, smacking a training staff against her side in chastisement.
The sting of the wood was enough to get her to tear her gaze away from Baghra's hut, the building was windowless, making it impossible to tell if there was anyone home.
She grimaced, adjusting her stance, "Sorry. Been busy," her mouth twisted in distaste, "Praying."
Botkin's eyebrows rose, but he only shook his head, "Prayer good. Won't stop a fist."
The hint of a real smile made its way to her face. The spar was about to continue, but the fighting ceased when a new crowd made their way into the arena.
He frowned, "Other lesson today. Botkin forgot."
Alina turned, surprised to see Nadia and Marie entering the room. More surprised to see the noblewoman, Kitaar, with them. Both of the Grisha girls tensed at her presence, hesitant for only a moment before Alina was subjected to tight hugs.
"Alina! We've missed you!" Marie cried, her tone just a little too saccharine.
"It's been too long," Nadia echoed, and Alina took a moment to steel herself before she returned the embrace.
The Sun Summoner gave an exasperated sigh, "Sorry. I was. Fasting." She muttered.
The girls pulled back, "Of course," Marie said, clearly not believing the excuse for a moment.
"It's wonderful to have you back," Nadia added, and Alina couldn't help but wonder if it really was. If they were excited, to see the girl who helped destroy a village. Who was a. Consort.
"Sun Summoner," the noblewoman greeted, gold eyes trained evenly on her. Alina looked between her and the two Grisha, frowning.
"Kitaar," she replied, forgetting her title. Again, the noblewoman didn't seem to mind, "What brings you to the sparring arena?"
"Oh, you know each other!" Nadia said with a smile, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "Duchess Kitaar is an ambassador to the Shu. She's been interviewing the Grisha who may be stationed at the border." Selection process didn't need to be said.
Kitaar inclined her head in agreement.
Botkin smiled that strange grin of his, holding up his stave, "Noblewoman fight?"
Kitaar's lips pulled into an enigmatic smile, and she shook her head, "Only with diplomats." She then proceeded to rattle off a few sentences in Shu Han.
The instructor and Nadia both laughed, "Noblewoman watch fights?" Botkin offered instead.
The noblewoman smiled, "Gladly. Though I don't want to impose on the Sun Summoner's time?"
Alina's eyes darted to the hut. Windowless. Lightless. She felt uneasiness once more. Ivan was outside, she could see his hulking, red mass positioned just outside the door. There was no way he'd allow her to go to Baghra's hut. She looked at the expectant faces of Botkin, Nadia, Marie, and Kitaar. If she prolonged her stay here, she might be able to at least see if anyone else went near the hut. Students. Or guards. Or worse, no one.
"It's not imposing," Alina said carefully, moving to a spectator's seat, "So long as you don't mind me joining you."
"Not at all," Kitaar asserted, pleased.
They watched as Botkin sparred one-on-one with Nadia, then Marie, and then Marie and Nadia sparred against each other. Alina kept her attention less on the fights, and more on the lake side. She missed Ivan's deepening scowl as she went over the two hour time limit, or the curious glances she received from Noblewoman Kitaar.
After the third hour, Ivan's patience apparently ran dry.
He bowed, but she could see the irritation in the tension of his shoulders, "Time to go."
Alina turned once more to the hut. Debated her chances at pushing her luck further. And sighed.
"Fine."
Without another word, Ivan offered her his arm. Aware of the eyes trained on her from both the noblewoman, the Grisha, and Botkin, Alina grimaced before reluctantly accepting it. No words were exchanged between them as Ivan steered her back towards her gilded cell.
He was waiting for her in her rooms.
As soon as Ivan opened the door, Alina's mouth went dry and her feet stopped at the threshold. On her bed was the Darkling, seated with one leg over his opposite knee and staring into the glass he held in his hand. Its liquid was amber in color.
"Leave us."
Ivan gave a bow and that quick, condescending smirk, before he vanished along with her guards.
Alina stayed standing outside the door. Her fingers curled into fists at her side.
"Come inside." He didn't look up from his glass, and Alina was painfully reminded of the night in his tent, where she had made her trade for Mal's life. When she didn't move, he sighed, and tipped back the contents of his drink into his mouth.
"What do you want," Alina finally managed, wondering how far she could get before someone stopped her.
The Darkling sneered at the question, and still didn't look at her. "Inside, Alina."
"I could run."
"Try."
She tensed, seriously considering it. His lips pressed tightly together as he set his glass on her nightstand.
"Do you like Genya's visits?"
Alina frowned, "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Obey, or they will stop."
He said it so simply, and she somehow knew the only reason Genya was able to visit in the first place was because he allowed it. Just like she knew Genya would stay away if he said so. Alina glared at his still form, but he did not turn his attention from his empty glass. After a few moments of deliberation, she closed her eyes, and took a step forward.
"Close the door."
Her heart hammered in her chest, and her palm was sweaty against the cool, brass of the handle as she shut the door behind her. It was, in a way, darkly reassuring to know that it didn't matter if it was closed or not: no one here was about to come to her rescue.
The Darkling moved his hands to her nightstand, where she now saw a half-consumed bottle of kvass. He poured the sweet liquid into his glass. She stood rigid by the door, arms crossed over her chest and she stared at him like a tiger about to spring.
He took a slow, languid sip, "Sit."
"No."
The Darkling finally looked up, and Alina was shocked enough to let her arms fall limp at her sides. His grey eyes were hard, cold, but purple circles rested underneath them. Dark stubble covered the line of his jaw and part of his throat. For the first time that she had ever seen him, he looked…tired. Almost human.
Almost. "What do you want," Alina tried again, keeping her body positioned near the door even though they both knew it would do her no good with the bones around her neck.
"What do I want…" he repeated, giving a short scoff as he rotated his wrist just enough to send the amber liquid spinning in his glass. Both their eyes trained on the nearly soothing motion of the kvass as it whirled around and around.
"I'm not your consort," Alina bit out after a few rotations.
The Darkling gave no indication that he heard her, or, that if he had, her opinion on the matter was irrelevant. He rested his glass on his knee, fingers tightly around it. "Tell me, Alina," he said in a nearly distant way, "What possible reason have I given you to be so unhappy."
Her lips parted in disbelief, "My neck is a good place to start."
"I gave you power, and it seems as though you're determined to punish me for it."
"You made me a slave!"
His fingers shifted on the glass, "Is this the room of a slave, Alina? Are you not dressed in silk, revered by nearly all of Ravka? Do you not have attendants, jewels, and a palace?" His jaw clenched, and it made the five o'clock shadow on his cheeks more pronounced, "Anything you desire is yours, should you only ask."
Alina stared down at him, "You're trying to convince yourself."
"Of what? That I haven't chosen someone so ungrateful to be at my side? That Morozova's stag wasn't wasted on a short-sighted girl who will abandon her country the minute she has an opportunity? "
"That you didn't just destroy a village of your own people and betray your king for your ego."
"That fool was not my king," his grey eyes stayed on her face, before trailing down to rest on the antlers around her throat. The Darkling's fingers gripped harder on his glass, "Sit, Alina."
She looked at him pointedly before going to take a seat at her vanity. The Darkling gave a short, bitter laugh of incredulous disbelief before he set down his glass and stood. Alina stayed rooted to her place, trying not to let her unease show as he took a few, quick steps until he was before her.
"Is this how you repay me, Alina? For my mercy?" His voice was lower now, just above a whisper as he brought one hand to the side of her head. The other rested on the vanity behind her, his arm caging her in as he hovered over her. "Defying me at every turn, desperate to make a fool of me?"
Alina fought to keep her voice even as his fingers started to thread through her hair, "I can't defy you. You've made sure of that."
His body stilled, before something dark and cruel, and, if she were feeling charitable, perhaps hurt, entered his expression, "Thank me for your tracker, Alina." His fingers wrapped themselves further into her hair, "Let me know how grateful you are for his pathetically short life."
Alina bit down hard onto her lower lip. Mal is in Tsibeya. She took in a ragged breath, "Thank you."
"I don't believe you."
Alina's fingertips dug tightly into the arms of her chair. She could hear her pulse in her ears. She exhaled, and tried again, all too aware of the heat of the Darkling's palm against the skin of her neck, "Thank you for saving Mal."
"Then show me."
Alina jerked back as if slapped, "I'm not sleeping with you!"
The Darkling's eyebrows furrowed, just a little, before his fingers went lax in her hair. He scoffed, withdrawing from her. "…At least you are always clear when you think so little of me."
She exhaled, sagging in her seat as he walked back to her nightstand. His long fingers wrapped around the glass, then the bottle. Alina shifted in her seat as he turned around to face her once more, "Then…?"
He took another slow drink, "You are to be our nation's salvation. Act like it," the Darkling's clear, tired stare fixed on her and she saw something in it that made her pull down on the sleeves of her kefta, "No more insults with the noblewomen. No more sulking in your quarters-"
"-you had me placed under guard-"
"-you will address your people. You will be as gracious as you promised to be. And in one week, we are going to give the people of Ravka another demonstration, which you will be all too happy to give."
Alina's stomach flopped, the sound of leathery wings in her ears, "No, I won't-"
"Again, your thirst for theatrics clouds your reasoning," he took a deep breath, "No. We no longer need a Novokribirsk. Instead you will show the Court how you can close the Fold."
She paled, "Close-?"
His lips twisted into a smile she didn't fully understand, "I see I am still your villain."
Alina looked at him with an expression that made her thoughts on the subject perfectly clear.
The Darkling's smile fell into a contemplative, if not confused, frown.
"What?" She asked, not liking the evaluative silence that filled the room.
He forced the frown from his expression, and walked over to her once again. His finger curled underneath her chin as he tilted her head up. "One day," his tone was almost wistful, "One day this will be behind us both."
She clenched her teeth, "I don't want Novokribirsk behind me."
The Darkling shook his head, "Novokribirsk was necessary. Which you will see, when you are finally able to develop some perspective." His lips were warm and soft when they pressed against her forehead, just underneath her hairline. "And one day, Alina, I promise you will also develop a taste for me."
Her eyes widened as he pressed another, lighter kiss over her lips, and then he was gone while her hands were still shaking. The door to her room left open in a mockery of freedom.
Interlude: At Sea
The words on the letter managed to stick out quite clearly, despite the dim lighting from the candle.
"Well," he said slowly, eyes tracing the carefully encoded words once more, "This seems troubling."
The man across from him was silent, his gold eyes flickering up from the letter to the face of his captain. The silence reigned, stretched between the two of them before the larger man cleared his throat.
"Where to."
The captain pressed his fingers against the desk, looking up with a resigned determination, "It's been some time since we've resupplied, hasn't it?"
The larger man nodded.
"Then I suppose we should pull into the nearest port."
The larger man stood, nodded, and left to tell the navigator to head for western Ravka.
