Author's Note: I'm back with more! I worked on most of this last night and was planning to post it today. I just feel like I'm grappling for attention if I post a new chapter RIGHT AFTER someone else does. I hope you like this! MORE MAL AND GENYA for the win! You are all so lovely! I know I don't deserve your amazingness. I could just kiss you. 3 More new characters in this chapter! Please warn me if I'm headed for Mary Sues or cliches.
Malyen Oretsev
Everything, in its simplest form, was gray. The tents, the air, the sky, the ground, the people.
Serafima and I dodged through the soldiers passing us by. Some men stopped to slap me on the back, to congratulate me on finding the stag, and others paused to gawk at Serafima, who ignored them all. Women in this unit were few and far between, and all the men were lustful and lonely.
I hurried to keep pace with Serafima as she jogged through the mess of armed men and to the group of trackers and officers gathered around a podium, upon which Colonel Raevsky stood, glaring, his cap off, leaving his balding hair for the world to see.
My eyes darted around the crowd, searching. I sighed in relief when I saw Mikhael (albeit a heavily injured one) leaning against one of his other companions. His eyes were cast downward. Serafima had healed him nicely, but it had been too late for Dubrov.
Serafima tugged at my elbow, bringing me back to the present. "Join the crowd," she said. "If anything feels awry, give me a signal. I have a bad feeling about all these soldiers in one place. It's as if we're packed sardines. And try to keep your kvas down, at least until the Colonel's done speaking." She drifted off and stood at the platform, stoic.
I positioned myself beside Mikhael, who didn't acknowledge my existence. I knew how this would go. He would try to give us all the silent treatment, but in a few days he would crack. Mikhael got over things easily, and I was sure it wouldn't be different despite his best friend's death.
Colonel Raevsky pounded the platform with his fist. "Soldiers! ATTEN-TION!"
I straightened my back as best I could.
"Let's cut to the chase," he said. "In our mission for Morozova's herd, we only got back three men. May the soldiers who gave their lives meet their Saint face-to-face."
We all gave a military salute.
"Unfortunately—you already know—the herd has already crossed into Tsibeya. I am happy to let you know though, that you won't have to fret over this anymore. The hunt for Morozova's stag has been terminated."
Grumbles echoed through the crowd. Six men dead, all for naught. I felt the urgent desire to stab the Darkling, wherever the bastard was. We listen to his orders, and this is what we get? "This is an outrage!" someone yelled. The shouting stopped with a fierce glare from Raevsky.
"I have been commanded by the King himself to travel down to Shu Han. A select few of you will be chosen to accompany me." He took a piece of paper from his hand. "Serafima Artemieva, Mikhael Borovsky, Olga Rusakova, Yury Urban, and Malyen Oretsev." Serafima's stony eyes widened.
I clenched my fists; Mikhael's face paled. The other soldiers breathed a sigh and some gossiped quietly. Colonel Raevsky waved his hand toward a young captain, beckoning him to the stand to take his place. Raevsky's feet landed on the gravel as he commanded, "Those who I have just named please join me immediately."
The four of us (including Yury) and Raevsky gathered inside a large olive tent; the Colonel's quarters. The receiving room for guests was bare, and cushions were the only things separating us from the packed dirt floor. Mikhael leaned heavily on my shoulder and Serafima stood on his other side while Yury lazed in a corner. We all stared silently at the colonel.
He looked down at his gold timepiece. "Where's Olga?" he growled.
"I'm here, sweetheart," said a low, husky voice. I turned around.
There she was. Olga Rusakova: the golden girl. Thick, straight yellow hair fell to her waist, which was small, bordering on the extreme. Thick lips and large brown eyes. Shapely figure and golden skin that was served well by her tight-fitting olive and gray uniform. I remembered the time when I was with her in a dark room, and I had to quash a shiver.
Her mouth turned up at the sight of my, Mikhael's, Yury's, and Raevsky's ministrations. Serafima rolled her eyes.
It was no secret that they were the two most stunning girls in the unit, perhaps the entire First Army. But I'd never met two people who were so opposite, and who detested each other so.
Raevsky swallowed. "Well, then." He eyed the group as we gathered in a circle. "As I've stated, we are all going to Shu Han to act as a sort of stand-in for the King Alexander, may the sun shine before his name. From now on, we are the guards of Vasily Lantsov, the heir to the throne, may Ravka bloom from his footsteps."
Yury's dark eyebrows scrunched. "Doesn't the mighty tsarevitch already have a battalion looking after his ass?" I tried not to smile.
Raevsky glared. "He does, but they are incompetent compared to us devoted soldiers." Then he ran his meaty hand through his thinning hair and sighed. "I've measured how long the journey will take, and it will be around three weeks, with some stops here and there. We will get to Shu Han by the third or fourth week of their foolish holiday. The truth is, though, we are the first defense of the heir and the Sun Summoner if a battle breaks out during the peace accords, which you've all heard of by now. The fourth week is usually the most dangerous and we'll be walking on thin ice…"
I perked up at 'Sun Summoner' and lost track of the rest of the conversation. Serafima shot me a warning glower. Alina. Alina was in Shu Han and I would see her in less than a month. I nearly jumped up and down, but stopped. Wouldn't she still be mad at me after our argument? What if she doesn't accept my apology? Then a darker thought made my enthusiasm freeze like a corpse. If Alina's there, then the Darkling will be, too.
Genya Safin
The room froze when Alina fell unconscious in Vasily's arms. Then, it exploded into a commotion of noise and colors.
The Darkling was talking to a server, signaling toward the double doors. The Fjerdan Queen's face was blotched with anger and the Emperor looked like he needed a couple of bottles of wine to be rid of his misery. The other Fjerdans and the guards talked amongst one another. Zoya smirked at Alina's lifeless state, small face pressed against Vasily's chest. I wanted to break the Squaller's perfect nose, but she stormed out of the chamber before I got the chance, most likely to inform the other Summoner bitches about what had happened. Thank the Saints at least, that the Kerch ambassadors weren't here.
David's eyes had taken on an owlish shape, wide with confusion and uncertainty. He moved his face toward mine, and I almost caught my breath. My hands itched to move his shaggy hair away from his face. He stared down at his feet and muttered, "Someone should get Alina to her rooms."
I nodded and looked at my half-empty glass of champagne. "I'm sure the Darkling sent the cooking maid for someone." The Darkling was turning to Vasily now, gray eyes cold and vicious.
David bobbed his head. "Good." His teeth worried the flesh of his lip. "I'll be up at my workrooms." He left without even a farewell. My eyes suddenly itched with senseless tears.
I observed the long chamber, and seeing that no one was paying attention, slipped through the servants' door. Maxim, Liko, Roza, Irina, and Ju were already there, and they were sitting like ghosts atop marble counters. Smells of glazed turkey, honeyed nuts, and sweet strawberries covered in chocolate lingered in the air. The ovens were all laid out on one cream-colored brick wall, radiating warmth. Despite what just happened, my mouth was watering.
"Poor Alina," Liko said, swaying his legs. "Such a sweet girl having an unpleasant prince ask for her hand in marriage in front of all these intimidating royals. And chattering servants." I couldn't describe the situation better myself.
"Any one would have fainted under all that stress," Roza pointed out. "It is only their first night here, and it's quite clear that she positively loathes him."
Ju whispered, "You could tell that she was about to get sick. Who would want to make baby princes with someone who's done more whores than he owns horses?"
Well, I said to myself. News certainly travels far.
I grinned at her. "Are you sure about that? Because he has more horses in his stables than the First Army. He would have to have had a lover in every village in Ravka for it to equal."
"That's disgusting," Maxim said, grimacing. "Those poor groomers and servants, having to clean up after that cavalry."
I sat on the counter beside Irina. "I've met people with those jobs. The poor men were never the same again."
All of us laughed. I heard another spurt of chuckles and jumped at the sound.
A blond head popped out behind one of the rows of infinite tabletops. The gold hair belonged to quite a handsome man, who had a freckled face and laugh lines. He looked to be about thirty, but the pure, sizzling energy in his big blue eyes made him appear twenty years younger. "How right you are, young lady," he laughed. "I've had that job meself, and let me tell you, I have a new respect for personal hygiene. Me sister is very proud of that fact."
Irina skipped lightly to the man and gave him a hug, her slender form swallowed by his broad arms. "You know I am, Amos. If it wasn't for that job, you'd still be bathing only once a year." Now that I looked closer, it was quite obvious they were related, seeing as they both had the same freckled hands and blue irises, the same blond brows and lashes, same cast to the nose.
He squeezed her tighter. "I didn't bathe once a year, you silly swan."
"You're right about that," said a lady's voice. A dark head suddenly appeared, silky braid shimmering in the low light. The woman's eyes had the Shu tilt and her mouth was full and pretty. She punched Amos in the arm and winked at Irina. "Otherwise I wouldn't have married this bastard." She had a gray stripe in her hair that looked astonishingly beautiful. Now, if only the queen took some advice from this woman…
Amos gave a wicked smile. "Oh, Bao, me dark little jewel," he purred, reaching to caress her. "It is only because of you that I even started using soap."
"And a hairbrush," Irina gibed.
Bao rolled her black eyes, which seemed to give off a friendly light. "It is by the grace of my god that I married you. I pray every night that our child does not have your sense of cleanliness, you quixotic flirt." She patted her rounded stomach with such protection and affection that I nearly cried. My companions watched mutely beside me, eyes twinkling, grateful for the distraction.
"Oh, but my heart!" Amos burst out. "Me eyes were captivated by your beauty, so if it wasn't for that and your superb cooking, I wouldn't have approached you."
She huffed. "I was the only woman whose face was uncovered. I hated you when I first laid eyes on you. You called me 'old hag'!"
"I've always had a penchant for the older, seasoned women. My treasure, you must forgive me my ancient sins." He kissed Bao's cheek.
"She's your wife," Irina blurted. "She'll hold you to your sins till your deathbed, and you won't be able to do anything about it because you are already married and you cannot take it back."
Bao wrapped an arm around her. "I believe you've just found the perfect definition for marriage, my dear." She peeked at her husband. "I forgive, but I never forget."
Amos pursed his lips. "I am doomed to a life of mercilessness and daily baths." He glided toward me. "And who might you be, lovely girl who I've never met before?" He kissed my hand, ever the gentleman. "You seem to be good-humored and compassionate, my lady, so why don't more people such as you exist in this corrupted world? You are a jewel in a world of worthless stones."
"Beware of Amos," Bao muttered, elbowing him, Irina at her arm. "He'll only break your heart."
I chuckled naturally. "I don't mind at all. Amos is a true gentleman." It was all true. There was something about his flirtations that seemed pure and friendly, utterly respectful.
Bao snorted. "Just wait until he starts singing to you."
"I'm afraid it is too late for that." Amos spun me around and sang, "Tall and pale and young and lovely, the lassie from Os Alta goes walking…" He had a lovely voice, low and pleasant-sounding.
Roza hopped off and draped an arm around Amos's neck. "And when she passes, each one she passes goes…"
Amos smiled, and his tenor voice blended smoothly with her soprano as they hummed, "Aaaahhhh."
Maxim nudged me. "I sang this to my grandmother one time, though with a few minor differences."
Amos slapped him on the back. He winked at Ju and shook Liko's hand in greeting. "And what might those differences be, oh Lord Green-eyes?"
Maxim rubbed his hands together. "If you must know, my grandmother was a foul old lady. I'll show you." He ran up and down the aisles of marble slabs like a child. Seeming to find what he was looking for, he draped a brown blanket of sorts over his shoulders and back. His bronze, fine-looking face twisted into a horrible sneer. "Short and green and old and ugly, the haggard witch from Duva goes limping…"
Maxim climbed atop a granite table and hissed. "And when she passes, each one she passes goes…EEEWWW!"
Liko clapped at full volume. "Hurrah! I congratulate you for surviving your awful childhood!" The rest of us raised our brows curiously.
"Was she really so repulsive, Maxim?" Bao asked.
"Unfortunately, yes. I believe she bit me one time when I was a babe."
"You must not have suited her tastes," Ju teased. Irina gave a high giggle.
Maxim gasped. "I am delicious."
I snorted. "I believe your little song is missing a little…something."
He jumped to the floor. "I was five when I wrote the cursed thing."
Roza put a hand on her hip. "And your ability for songwriting hasn't improved since then."
"Or singing," Liko put in.
"Or acting," Ju piped up.
"Or flirting," Bao said.
"Or kissing," Irina drawled.
Maxim laid his face in his hands as if he were crying. "Oh, Saints. Not even my own friends think I have an ounce of skill."
"Oh, don't fret," Roza cooed, patting Maxim's golden-brown hair. "You're very pretty."
He sniffed noisily. "At least I have that."
"At least," Amos repeated.
"I know how you feel," I murmured with not a little venom.
"Genya, no," Roza gasped. "That is the farthest from the truth. You are very talented in being a perfectionist, as I am. You have an entertaining sense of humor. And you have a charming personality, which just makes you more stunning." She hugged me briefly. I was beginning to like Roza more and more by the hour. I had the strange sensation that we had much more in common than I'd originally assumed.
"She's right," Bao told me, joining Roza and I in our embrace, and Irina and Ju copied her. "You are more than just a face. Maxim, though, is hopeless."
"I'm right here! And I have ears!" Maxim yelled, injured.
Liko hit the side of his head while Amos viewed the exchange. "Don't ruin the moment."
Roza let go and took a peek out the crack in the door. "It looks as though that Ivan fellow is carrying Alina back to her rooms. If you want to go with her, Genya, it would make sense, seeing that you are Alina's trusted friend and all. I hope you will visit us another time." Her eyes then flickered to the married couple. "Oh, Amos, Bao, you simply must meet Alina! She is Maxim's new infatuation, and fairly nice to look at, as are his exact words."
I lifted a brow. Infatuation?
Maxim, surprisingly, blushed.
Amos made a ridiculous face at him. "Oh? I must see this girl."
I took my chance. "It was nice to talk with you all. I haven't had a conversation like that in years." My velvet skirt wrinkled as I curtsied.
They beamed and bowed to me. What an amusing lot! I thought, and exited into the dining room.
Ivan was waiting flaccidly while the Darkling and Vasily argued, Alina still in in the tsarevitch's grip.
"It's not as if I did anything wrong," Vasily hissed. Oh, what an idiot you are…
The Darkling, though, stayed an icy calm. "You asked Alina to be your queen in front of royals whom she has never met before. You have only seen her twice before this trip, and yet you have already managed to make her the cause of Palace gossip in a matter of hours after your arrival. You've disrupted what was supposed to be a matter of political alliances. What exactly have you done to not make the situation worse?" he snarled, trying to keep composed. "If you are to be Ravka's king, moi tsarevitch, you will have to make decisions with some more forethought than what I have just witnessed." He gestured to Ivan and ordered, "Go. Take her to her chambers. I have a feeling that Alina will not be coming out of her room tomorrow." His gaze met mine. "Genya, will you assist Ivan and stay with her through the night?"
I bowed. "Of course, moi soverenyi."
The Darkling nodded and shot a pointed look in Vasily's direction.
The prince squinted back daringly, then handed Alina to Ivan as if she were a sack of turnips. "I will be visiting her bedchamber in the morning."
The Darkling visibly tensed at the emphasis. "You will not. I highly doubt Alina will want to see you, or let you come within a mile of her."
Ivan and I glanced at each other and scurried out the doors and up the stairs to the Sun Summoner's quarters.
We both stood watching Alina in a coma of peaceful slumber, her chocolate hair spread out over her pillow and across her face. "You know," Ivan said. "She's not nearly as aggravating when her mouth isn't spewing stupid comments."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Hmmph. I could say the same about you, bloodletter.
Ivan sneered. "I wonder what would have happened to her if she had not been gifted with such power. Would she still be an insignificant orphan?"
I glimpsed at him out of the corner of my eye. "She would still burn brighter than you, Ivan."
Alina Starkov
I rolled over in my silky bed, relishing in the feel of the fabric against my skin. I was spending a few seconds in the blissful place between dreams and reality, when memories of the previous night invaded my thoughts. I grumbled and opened my eyes. A pair of gold irises stared back at me. Two inches from my face. "Saints!" I squeaked.
Genya burst out laughing. "I've wanted to do that for ages!"
I frowned, but couldn't see through the curtain of my hair. I pushed it impatiently out of my face and shifted my gaze to the ribbon that was still at my waist, yet another reminder. I whimpered. "Oh, Genya! I haven't felt this humiliated since the time Ana Kuya caught me kissing a boy on my cot and then told all the servants about it afterward." I gnawed on my lip, fighting rash tears.
Genya waved her hand dismissively. "If a prince had proposed to me in front of an audience, I would have fallen unconscious, too."
"That doesn't make it feel any less embarrassing," I whined.
I wrapped my arms around my legs. "You should have held to your promise and danced on the table. Perhaps it might not have been such a mortifying experience."
Her perfect mouth turned up at the corners. "Oh please, Alina. I would have been kicked out of the Palace for disorderly conduct and reprimanded for vulgarity. It wasn't that bad."
I raised my eyebrows.
She settled herself on the side of my bed and picked up a comb that had been laid on the nightstand. The light from the transparent windows glimmered in her eyes. "You should have seen the Darkling!" she whispered excitedly. "He nearly killed Vasily for causing this to happen to you, and forbade him from entering your rooms!"
I could have skipped in relief. "He did?"
"He did."Genya's wavy red hair sparkled like molten rubies as she nodded. "I thought he would punch Vasily right then and there. I'm just glad he didn't." She sighed wistfully. "Though, I would have loved to see the Darkling in a match to the death, preferably shirtless."
I rolled my eyes, but I failed to mask the red in my cheeks.
Genya waggled her flawless brows. "Stop pretending you wouldn't want to. He really is something to look at. That white skin and those lean muscles…" She fanned herself with one hand.
My jaw dropped. "You've seen him? With no…"
She winked. "Fresh out of the banya."
A knock sounded at the doors. Genya fretted. "That must be him." She took something red out of her pouch and rubbed it on my lips, then forced a mint into my open mouth. I sat unmoving "Good luck," she said gently and went off.
Just seconds later, the Darkling came into view, his kefta like a shadow. His hair was a soft mess on his head, and his quartz eyes glittered.
I blurted the first question that I thought up. "Where are my guards?"
He answered coolly, "The King fell ill last night. It is not serious enough to prevent him from going on with the accords, but enough for all of his guards to protect him closely. So today, all meetings have been cancelled."
"Oh," I said meekly.
The Darkling sat very near to me. "How are you, Alina?" His hand cupped my chin so I looked into his eyes.
"Utterly humiliated," I admitted.
He slid closer. "I know you are worried about the gossip, Alina, but it will fade with time. You can be sure of it though, that Vasily will propose to you again, most likely in the privacy of his own quarters. The fool won't make the same mistake twice, I hope."
I giggled nervously. "I just…wasn't completely sure of what to say in the midst of all those people."
"No would have been a good answer."
My eyes widened. "Are you jealous now?" I asked, dipping my lashes.
His lips quirked up in a half-smile. "Perhaps I am only being protective of you."
I played with the blanket. "And from what are you protecting me exactly?"
His pale fingers grazed my cheek. "I'm trying to stop you from marrying someone who will try to undermine you."
I leaned into his touch and he sighed. "Alina," he whispered, cupping my face in his warm hands. "don't marry him."
"I won't."
I thought I saw something like relief in his eyes, when he asked me, "What would you like to do?"
"Huh?" I said brightly.
"I could tell Genya to come back here and keep you company. I can leave you to yourself…"
"No!" I yelped. "No," I repeated more quietly.
The sunlight outlined the edges of his hair in gold as he leaned forward. "All right," he replied, and then kissed me.
The Darkling's lips moved in perfect rhythm with mine. The connection between us opened like the floodgates. He urged me gently to open my mouth with his. The Darkling's kiss demanded more as his tongue moved over my lips hungrily. My arms coiled together behind his neck, and I ran my hands down his broad shoulders and muscular back. A soft sound escaped his throat at my touch.
His hands ran over the curves of my hips, down to my thighs. Warmth spread through my body. He tasted of sweet red apples and spicy cinnamon. Shivers raced up my arms and legs. My skin burned like a fire where his skilled fingers traveled.
He pushed ever closer, our chests touching, and heat rushed through us both. His body slid over mine as his lips dropped to my collarbone, tongue lightly licking the delicate skin. I shuddered, and saw the desire in his eyes as he moved his mouth to my throat and attacked my neck.
I gasped. I felt as if he were devouring me whole, some instinctual hunger encouraging his need. I didn't care though. I didn't care because I felt the same way.
The Darkling fingered the buttons of my pale blue robe, and began loosening them bit by bit.
A shard of logic cut through me. You probably shouldn't be doing this. You're not ready yet, you fool.
I pulled away from him for what seemed to be the hundredth time. An expression resembling pain reflected in his eyes. The rest of his sharp, perfect face remained indifferent.
"Why don't you read to me?" I asked timidly.
He ran a heavy hand through his hair. "All right. If it pleases you. What would you like for me to read?"
I bit my lip and ran my fingers over the titles in my bookcase. "This one," I chose. "This one." I handed the heavy black book to the Darkling. The golden title embossed on its cover said, 'Ser Buchinsky's Collected Works of Songs and Poetry'. He raised his brow.
"You can start now if you want to," I coaxed, then sat next to him on the bed, closing the golden, shimmery drape. Our thighs pressed together, and if felt as though we were the only two people in the world. This moment was between us, and us alone.
The Darkling cleared his throat and started:
'THERE be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like Thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me:
When, as if its sound were causing
—I fell in love with the Darkling's deep, chocolaty voice, creamy and smooth as a lullaby—
'The charméd ocean's pausing,
The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lull'd winds seem dreaming:
And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o'er the deep,
Whose—'
He closed the book abruptly and shook his head. "No. You are too young for that."
I pouted. "Surely you can make an exception."
"I wouldn't want to taint your purity."
I narrowed my eyes. "They're merely words. I can handle sex."
The Darkling smirked. "I don't doubt you can."
I blushed and covered my cheeks.
He laughed dark and lovely.
"Fine," I mumbled. "You can turn to a different poem."
His eyes were smiling, even if his lips were not. "Very well."
'WHEN we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this…'
My eyes grew increasingly heavy, like a curtain dropping. I fought it, but eventually my dreams defeated me and my head slumped against the Darkling's shoulder, nightmares of cold kisses and pale faces dragging me into another world altogether.
Yes, yes I did. I made up a Ravkan parody of The Girl from Ipanema by Frank Sinatra. And yes, I did use two of Lord Byron's poems. (THERE BE NONE OF BEAUTY'S DAUGHTERS and WHEN WE TWO PARTED, by the way.) Poetry and literature and music is really important to me. I REGRET NOTHING. You are all really special to me, even the ones who don't have an account! I look at your reviews every day and they always make me smile :) What do you guess is going to happen in Chapter 7? What do you WANT to happen? Tell me what you really think. I'd rather have an honest troll than a hypocritical fan. Not that I'm judging you, but still. I want you to feel FREE to give me your opinions on ANYTHING. Are these author's notes annoying you?
Post-Script: There is a poll on my profile page concerning me and another Grisha Trilogy Fanfic! Wink ;) Wink ;)
Post-Post-Script: I feel guilty for making you wait so long, I just get busy and overwhelmed a lot. Like we all do.
