i.
Little secrets should be good, Alina thought to herself as she watched the Darkling pace about the room. Their room. She sat at a bench before her vanity table, eyes following him. Hair wet from a bath, shirtless. He was distracted, irritated, like a caged animal, but still she let her gaze slide over the muscles in his body, the way they flexed with each turn, with each clench of his fists.
It had been a year and a half since they had taken Ravka for their own, slowly building from the ground up. She was surprised by that, by his patience in not making everyone bow to him immediately. Maybe it was her influence, she wondered, lip caught between her teeth gently.
Maybe he had always been right about what she could do for him. He was not better, not by the standards of Mal or Nikolai, but for himself?
"What's wrong?" Alina asked as she leaned back against her table, elbows propped up on the ornate wood.
He finally stopped pacing, swiveling to turn and face her. "It isn't enough."
"What do you mean?"
He smiled at her, the edges of it hard and cruel, sending a flutter through her stomach. "Ravka isn't safe yet, Alina. Not while her enemies are still out there."
She thought of the Fold and when he had used her to envelop Novokribirsk. Faintly, she felt the same fear and anger as she had then, but now she felt something different - a certain rightness to it. Not to use it on Ravka and her people anymore, but to use their power against Ravka's enemies.
She was not a good queen, not by any stretch of the word. She was, as she had always been designed to be, a figurehead. But she felt the fire of fierce protection, of wanting better for Ravka. She wanted an end to wars and watching her people suffer.
"Who do you want to take?"
He moved closer to her, standing between her knees as he leaned down over her. "It's not about taking, Alina."
She gave him a hard smile. For Aleksander, it was about taking and calling it justice. Calling it a necessary tactic that he believed would settle the matter.
"Tell me what your plans are, Aleksander, and how can I help you with them?"
A momentary flash of surprise takes over his face, quartz eyes narrowing even as his eyebrows rose high on his pale forehead. Alina buried the worry that sprung up at the look deep inside of her. She had not been what he had wanted from her, slowly coming around to the idea of queen.
His hands came down on either side of her, forcing her back until the wood of the table pressed hard into her spine. One jolt of pain, barely worthy of recognition. He was close enough that his breath mingled with hers, dancing over the lines of her mouth.
Saints, she wanted him. It was a sudden jolt of realization, more painful than the way her spine curved. Her glow cast shadows over his skin, and it was so fitting, that she could do more than stare. Not that she had never had this thought before, had never succumbed to the temptation of his body before this, but she had always tried to bury it after.
Not a good queen. Not a good saint. Not a good wife.
Her fingers danced along the edge of his jaw, watching the way her inner light splayed over his face, the way it twisted to make him both lovesick man and dangerous monster. The way it made her want him all the more. She was not good at what she was trying to do, but damn if she didn't feel as though she was taming the beast.
"Your plan," she whispered in the minute space between them. Alina would do better, she promised herself. She had to. For Ravka, for Mal's sacrifice, for her own sanity. For a boy named Aleksander with a dream.
He still didn't answer her, as if fascinated by her easy light show, by her frank interest when it had always been him to initiate anything between the two of them. He kissed her, hard and needy, teeth nipping at her lip, tongue soothing over the bite. And then he grabbed her hand still lingering at his jaw, enveloping each bright fingertip in his darkness as he kissed them as well.
"I will hear no objections from you?"
The plan was not said yet, wasn't laid out at her feet, but he was still extracting a promise from her before he would tell her.
Alina would have to agree, or there would be nothing for her to watch over.
She thought of Novokribirsk again, of the screams of the people as the volcra launched themselves at a new source of food, of the little boy's face. She thought of Zoya's angry words about the family she had lost there, killed by the Darkling. For a moment, a shadow descends over her as well, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. There was no darkness in Alina's life now, except for what she welcomed into it.
"No," she answered in a soft voice. "You will hear no objections from me. It's time we showed Ravka that we mean to keep her safe."
His hands dropped to her hips, fingers digging sharply into the bone beneath her flimsy nightgown. "I promised, Alina, there would be no more borders."
He lifted her onto the vanity table, kicking the bench aside as he moved between her thighs. Her legs hooked around his, drawing him in closer, her hands moving along the bare expanse of his chest.
She should be horrified. Maybe she was, but only of the past horrors she had seen come from what they could do together. Of what the Darkling would do when not stopped, when he was angry with her or desperate or willing to do what it took for his home. Now, she felt a thrill of excitement, as dark and twisted as her desire for him pooling into her gut and setting her veins on fire. This was what power felt like. It felt like drowning, it felt like victory.
It felt like love.
ii.
Fjerda. His plan was Fjerda.
Genya stood next to Alina. They both stood out, vibrant, harsh. Somehow, Genya had convinced Alina to let her do her hair, and it was pulled back in a crisp bun, held together by gold pins.
We're not here to negotiate peace, Alina told her.
But Genya smiled, her good eye dancing with mischief. Then we better look twice as good for destruction.
She wondered if that was really how her friend felt, if she was okay with what they were doing.
Genya had been okay with it before, though, hadn't she? Before the nichevo'ya had gotten to her.
A dull throb rose up in Alina's shoulder at the thought. Not now, she reminded herself. Now was not the time to have doubts, to question the people around her - including herself.
Two women stood side by side, staring out at the field around them as they waited for the Darkling.
"Will he create another Shadow Fold?" Genya whispered under her breath, so quiet that Alina had to strain to hear it.
Will he create more darkness, was what her friend was really asking. Would Alina allow him to swallow more people whole, innocent people. Or was that just Alina's own paranoia?
Was everything anyone said to her anymore a lie, a ploy to get her to talk?
Was Aleksander the only one who was forthright with her anymore?
That was laughable, to suddenly find herself in a position where her husband might be the most honest person in her life.
The look Genya was giving her was guarded, one finely plucked eyebrow arching at Alina. She was waiting for an answer. She was hoping that Sankta Alina might still be in there.
Alina couldn't be so sure of that, anymore.
She folded her hands into the muff she wore, both to keep herself warm but to also hide the glow of her skin. Better to not let too many people catch her light as they hid in the shadows of the forest.
"We aren't here to negotiate," Alina finally said.
Genya rolled her eyes. "I had realized that when we decided to camp in the wilderness, despite the fact that one would think the tsar and tsaritsa of Ravka could go where they would please and still be welcomed into any court." She sniffed indignantly.
Despite herself, the situation, her doubts, Alina laughed. It was a light sound, soft and young. It brought a smile to Genya's face and a scowl to a few of the nearby oprichiniki who surrounded them.
Sour faces, all of them.
"How much of the world are you willing to let him take, Alina?"
A good question. "He has only made one Fold, Genya. Once we show the world the might of our power, they couldn't possibly continue to stand against us, could they?"
The look Genya gave her was pitying, as if she couldn't understand why Alina couldn't understand. And she really didn't. This was the plan, to take one country and make it a victim so that the world would see what would happen to them if they threatened Ravka, if they didn't fall into line.
Her pulse fluttered rapidly.
"Alina…" Genya reached out, placing a hand on the queen's arm. "I say this because I am on your side. I am here for you, and also for what you think is best for Ravka."
She bit her lip. "You think we shouldn't-"
"I think that you shouldn't allow him to be the one who decides what the world is remade into," she whispered.
Genya was right. Alina stayed with him to be his balance. Instead, she was simply holding his chains from the shadows he had created for her.
Glancing down, she stared at her covered hands for a moment before dragging a dark gaze back up to Genya's face. Her friend's mouth was puckered in a stern expression, her eyepatch looking even more fierce now than it had been.
"No more Shadow Folds, Genya," Alina promised.
iii.
The Darkling took her hand, calling to her power. They were in a valley outside of Djerholm, capital of Fjerda. Their army was small, so as to not draw too much attention, but Alina couldn't see how they would be unable to draw attention. Their brightly colored keftas were a dead giveaway, especially in a country that reviled Grisha.
A bitter taste filled her mouth as she remember Harshaw and the tale of his brother.
Fjerda had to be the one who learned their lesson, she agreed. It was easy to see the reasoning behind her husband's ideas, but she would not so blindly let herself be swept away by them anymore. She would weigh each one for herself. They were partners.
He had shackled her so that they could rule equally, and this was what she would do.
Alina pulled her hand out of his grasp, and he jerked his head in her direction.
"Alina."
They would free the Grisha from the fear Fjerda held over them. She would give them freedom and release to join the First Army of Ravka. Finally, Fjerda would know what fear of burning would be like.
"I can't let you create another Fold, Aleksander," she said under her breath. His own hitched at the sound of his name. She was always too daring, barely whispering his truth in front of others.
"You said there would be no objections." Anger flared in his face, but she wouldn't back down from this, not anymore than she had about keeping the First Army.
"I'm not objecting to making them bow," she whispered fiercely.
Behind them, their army shifted uncomfortably.
"Then what is it?"
"You have proven your power once before. You have shown Ravka what you could do, and they have fallen in line," Alina pointed out.
He leaned back, staring at her with more curiosity than anger now. "You wish to be the one to do it?"
"I will be the one who does it."
iv.
Years later, hundreds of them, Djerholm would still be nothing more than a crater of ash and death. Few survived who could say accurately what had happened, and more stories than truths blossomed from that moment.
Alina walked away from the Darkling, out of the shadows of the mountain. Her breath puffed in front of her in the cold air, clouds marring the sky, but she was still able to find the sun. She drew in its power, felt the weight of her amplifiers as she held out her arms. Behind her came several hisses and cries of pain as those looking directly at their queen nearly went blind.
Her world was a visions of whites and yellows and blue twisting into swirls and stars. Heat gripped her body and crawled up her throat as she called forth her power.
Alina was not sure what she would do, or how she would do it. Whatever lessons she had been secretly taking with David - who was not at all happy nor completely knowledgeable about the inner workings of magic - were not enough to create anything as grand as the Shadow Fold. And no, she wouldn't allow the people to suffer the same fates of darkness as the Darkling had. She still had nightmares about the human screams of the volcra as much as she had about the deaths of her army, about nearly everything else that haunted her these days.
This would either be one more small piece to add to the pile or something she could live with during her long, unnatural life.
Scorched earth filled her nostrils, heat washing over her again and again. Until the Darkling rested his hand on her shoulder, snuffing her out. When Alina opened her eyes, what lay before her was something indescribable. Beautiful and harsh, the ground black and scorched. The snow had melted, but so had the dirt and the grass beneath, the trees scorched, and the city beyond them nothing but pillars of death.
Alina took a shuddering breath at the damage she had caused. She should feel horror. She should be ashamed and shocked and trembling with regret.
Aleksander wrapped an arm around her waist, soaking in everything before him with a small smile.
When they both finally turned away after what seemed like hours, she found their men on their knees before her. They were slack jawed, eyes wide with terror and awe and a sort of worship that she knew well when she had been a saint.
"Sol Koroleva."
Alina felt pleased.
v.
Only Genya did not bow before her.
vi.
Fjerda, as was planned, fell into such swift disarray that they did not dare put up a protest against the invasion of Ravka into its borders, both armies working in tandem to secure only the smallest of threats. Those known to hunt Grisha were put on trial before the King and Queen of Ravka.
Those known to hunt Grisha were executed.
Grisha were given safe haven in Os Alta for a price: they had to serve with the First Army.
Most chose to do so.
vii.
Nikolai disappeared, and Alina found that she was happy for it.
viii.
"I have some news," Genya told Alina softly one morning. It had been a year since the fall of Fjerda and the wasteland that its capital had become.
Her friend was distant, as Alina found Genya to always be these days. She was quiet and listless in a way that she had not seen since the march underground. She was distancing herself from Alina, but then, so many people had regardless.
"What is it?" She pushed a plate of sweets closer to the woman, who was well on her way to nearing the end of her pregnancy.
Genya gave a brief, polite smile as she bit into a pastry. Even that she couldn't deny.
"There has been some talk of a rebellion."
Alina smiled. "There are always rumors about rebels, Genya. What we are doing is not going to make people happy at first."
Her friend shook her head. "I have heard that it's Zoya who leads them."
Alina snapped to attention at that, sitting up straighter in her chair. "But Zoya-"
"Was never confirmed to be dead."
She was quiet for a moment, a pang of regret echoing hollowly. "Do you believe it's her?"
"Yes," Genya replied quietly.
Rumors of small pockets of rebels were always a constant. Sometimes they would even root them out, and they would be suitably punished.
Alina didn't think she could hurt her friends, even if they had abandoned her.