Hey, people! Thank you very much for the reviews! I'm so happy you love Alina and Aleksander as much as I do. This chapter is shorter than my other ones, but that was done on purpose. It's going to get a lot more interesting at the Little Palace after this, but I'm not going to give anything away; you'll have to read to find out what's gonna happen. :)
Anyway, I hope you like it!
A Single Match
The man with the spiked blonde hair and the eyes like emerald chips, the man who had sold dreamcatchers and complimented a saint, was sitting in a dimly lit room at a lonely house. At the very edge of Os Alta, where no one would overhear his plans. He sat slouched back in his seat, elbow resting on a wooden table. He twirled a single match around in his fingers.
"I hate 'em," a ragged voice growled from the opposite side of the room. He stepped from the shadows, an old man with straggly gray hair. He had wielded a knife a few short months ago, and had nearly driven that knife through an abomination's heart. "They've all turned against us, even the Sun Summoner. She's protecting him, that—that...monster."
The blonde grunted in agreement. "We can't trust her," he muttered. "Not anymore." He met the old man's gaze. "I saw her with him. In the city."
The old Man's eyes widened. "You don't mean that they're...together, do you?"
"It sure looks like it," the blonde replied. He chuckled humorlessly. "I've heard old rumors too. Rumors from when she was in training." He paused dramatically. "And sharing the Darkling's bed."
The old man spluttered in revulsion. He ground his teeth in disgusted fury. "Saint," he spat contemptuously. "Some saint she is, fooling around with that creature."
"Even saints can make mistakes," the blonde replied. He stared at the match spinning in his grasp. "Even saints can die like us."
The old man's flinty gaze turned sharp with curiosity. "What're you gonna do?" he asked.
"Did you know that there's going to be a festival this week?" the blonde asked in reply. He nodded thoughtfully to himself. "At the edge of the city, far away from the Little Palace. Every Inferni will be there, putting on a show. And every Tidemaker will go as well, for safety precautions. It's going to be spectacular, from what I understand." He halted the match between two fingers and examined it through half-lidded eyes. Such a tiny piece of wood, such power in his grasp. "It would be a shame," he added, sarcasm rolling from his words, "if someone were to light a match near the Little Palace that day."
The old man thought this through.
And when he realized what this meant, he smiled.