"The Darkling is going to train you?!" Alisa's excited voice harmonised with the enthusiastic chorus of Nadia and Maria. I let out an involuntary sigh, knowing that this revelation would create quite the commotion.
"I don't think anyone else has been trained by him before," Ivo added, his tone conveying a blend of amazement and scepticism. "There have been some lessons, of course, but not daily training sessions like this."
"I'm betting he just wants to spend more time with you," Alisa continued, a playful glimpse in her eyes.
"Or perhaps it's because we've never had a shadow summoner before?" Eskil chimed in, his dry humour cutting through the speculation. Just then, one of the Darkling's Heartrenders—his name was Ivan, I believe—approached our table as I finished my breakfast.
"Solberg," he addressed me, with authority in his voice. "You're coming with me."
"The prophecy is coming true!" Maria's voice echoed behind us as Ivan led me away.
Through a labyrinth of corridors, we arrived at an unfamiliar part of the Little Palace. Eventually, we stopped before a grand door, and Ivan gestured for me to enter. Stepping inside, I found myself in a spacious room, elegantly simple, with soaring ceilings. A few chairs and a table were clustered in one corner. Near a window stood the Darkling, his gaze fixed on the Grand Palace emerging from the morning mist in the distance.
"Good morning," he said, turning around. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, thank you... uh... and yourself?" I stammered awkwardly, still embarrassed by our interaction the previous day.
"Are you… nervous?" He raised his eyebrows, an amused crease forming on his forehead. "I do not intend to beat you with a cane, if that's what you're worried about." he chuckled. "But we do have a lot of work. I wanted to delve into the summoning directly, but something struck me last night," his eyes bore into me. "Yesterday, when I entered your room, you shrouded yourself with shadows. Why? Did you not realise it wouldn't hinder my vision?"
"No, I… I didn't," I confessed, avoiding his gaze.
"Can't you see through the shadows? Through darkness?"
"I can! At least… I can see through the ones I summon, but… I couldn't see through your shadows in the fight on our way to Os Alta."
"My shadows?" He tilted his head to the side, deep in thought. "Can you see through the darkness in the night?" His gaze made me uneasy. He looked at me like I was a complicated puzzle he enjoyed solving.
"Better than others," I nodded. "But not as well as I see through my shadows," I shrugged.
He chuckled and looked at me in disbelief.
"I always thought you referred to them as 'my shadows' with an affectionate sentiment… it never occurred to me that you would…"
"That I would what?" I prodded when he paused.
"Nevermind," he replied, a subtle smile gracing his lips. "Shall we start?" With those words, he clasped his hands together and the entire room plunged into darkness. I blinked repeatedly, questioning if my eyes were even open. I couldn't see anything at all.
"Now," his voice emerged from the shadows behind me, startling me. His breath grazed my ear, and the whisper sent an electric tingle down my spine. "Find me." I extended my hand behind me, but he had already vanished.
"I can't!" I protested. "I can't see anything!"
"Then try harder," his voice seemed to come from a different part of the room.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus. I couldn't see him, but… I could still sense him. Every time he came closer to me, all the hairs on my body stood up. I concentrated on that sensation, trying to pinpoint its source. I took a few tentative steps forward when a gentle shove landed on my chest. I staggered back.
"Why did you do that?!" I snapped, frustration seeping into my voice. I despised feeling helpless.
"I don't doubt you would instinctively find me, Klara, just as well as I would find you. Like calls to like. But we are working on your sight, so I would recommend keeping your eyes open," the Darkling advised, a nudge brushing my arm.
Instinctively, I reached out in the direction of the nudge, but my hand merely swept through the air. Or… did it? I felt… something. Not a physical touch, but a potent presence. The air seemed denser, almost charged.
His shadows! I realised. He's not actually touching me, he's using his powers to do that! Reaching toward the source of the peculiar sensation, I attempted to catch whatever caused it, but it eluded my grasp like liquid slipping through my fingers.
"Oh, you'll have to do better than that," he chuckled, nudging me once more. I sensed a trace of amusement in his voice.
"Why do I need to see through your shadows? I'm not planning to fight you."
He chuckled once more. "You're a powerful Grisha, Klara. You've got a long life ahead. Just like I do." One of his shadows playfully tapped my shoulder, and I instinctively turned, attempting to seize it, only to feel another nudge from a different direction. "With our kind of power, a lifetime can stretch not just for decades, but even centuries... And even the closest of allies, friends even, might… drift apart over such an expanse of time. You never know. Someday, you might need to fight me," he said softly, nudging my chest again. He was only teasing me, but his words still sent shivers down my spine. "But that's not the real point. Though you have accepted your powers, something is still missing. You don't quite understand them."
"What do you mean I don't understand them? Wait… did you say… centuries?"
"Let's make this more interesting," he purred, sidestepping my question and I felt his shadows touch me once more. Countless fine tendrils wound around my skin, coiling around my arms, legs, and body. Their touch was gentle, but as I tried to move, they tightened, anchoring me in place.
"Let go!" I protested, straining against their hold.
"Make me," he challenged calmly.
"I can't!" I declared. The more I struggled, the tighter their grip became. Frustration surged through me like mercury rising in a thermometer. My movements grew sluggish, constrained until I could hardly shift an inch. Maybe if I unleash my own shadows, I can overpower his?
"I said," I started, my breaths laboured. "let…" My eyes closed, anger channelled into my powers. "GO!" I shouted, releasing the pent-up energy. The hold slackened and I was free. I glanced around, shadows retracting to let the light cascade back in. The Darkling towered above me, a hint of amusement dancing on his lips as he looked me over.
"That's a promising start," he commented. I attempted to ignore his close proximity, but the enveloping scent of his kefta made it increasingly difficult.
"How?" I inquired, bitterness edging my voice. "I still couldn't see anything. And all I did was summon my—"
"Your shadows?" He arched an eyebrow. "You didn't summon anything, Klara. You controlled the shadows I summoned."
"I controlled your shadows?" My eyes widened.
"There's no 'your shadows' or 'my shadows.' There are only shadows, one darkness which we can both control," he explained, his gaze holding mine. "Little science is not magic, we don't create from nothing; we manipulate what already exists," he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "Do Inferni have their individual flames? Do Tidemakers possess their own water?"
"I know how little science works!" I protested. "But… I thought it was different for us. My shadows... they're within me. I see them, I sense them…"
"I know what you mean," he nodded. "But the thing you see as 'your shadows' is your power itself. It looks like shadows to you, because that's how you imagine it."
"But—"
"Close your eyes," he interrupted gently, his dark eyes locking onto mine. I obeyed, letting my eyelids fall shut.
"Now, feel the shadows in this room. They're all around you, under every object, between windows, behind you, behind me. Can you sense them?"
"I… yes."
"Good. Open your eyes and move them. Don't say you can't; I know you can. Just concentrate," he directed, coming to stand behind me. I could feel his presence, making my heart race. "Select one and concentrate on it."
I focused on a long shadow cast beneath a chair. He could have as well asked me to move the chair itself.
"Focus," the Darkling whispered.
I could focus a lot better if you weren't standing so close to me that I can feel your breath on my neck!
With a deep inhale, I extended my clenched fist toward the shadow, my brow furrowing in intense concentration as I struggled to harness the power. While keeping my gaze fixed on it, I slowly unfurled my fingers, feeling a bead of sweat form on my temple. A gasp escaped me as I watched the shadow expand, relief flooding in alongside the awe. It was as effortless as manipulating the shadows I summoned myself. A joyous laugh bubbled from within me.
…
From that point on, we trained together every morning, and each session brought something new. Occasionally, the Darkling would prompt me to summon, but we mostly focused on my understanding of my powers and my ability to see through the dark. The progress felt annoyingly slow to me, but I had to admit it was palpable and the Darkling seemed to be pleased with it. I could now see in the night just as easily as in the day. However, I still had difficulty dealing with the shadows he summoned. I was also becoming increasingly concerned about how I felt around him. I was letting my guard down, feeling oddly calm and safe around him, even though he still made me nervous.
Apart from our sessions and my training with Botkin, I mostly kept to myself, spending hours reading about the Little Science and training my skills on my own. I came across a lot of general information about summoners, but there was barely anything about my own powers. Annoyingly, the only mentions of shadow summoners were related to stories of the Darkling's ancestor, the infamous Black Heretic.
The only other person I occasionally spent time with was Eskil. We found a shared interest in spending our free moments in the stables, so we decided to ride around the palace grounds every so often. My choice was always the same pinto I used for my journey to the Little Palace. I didn't know her name, so I named her Sigrid, just for myself. I enjoyed the time I spent with Eskil. It was nothing like the incessant questioning and outlandish theories I was subjected to when I was with the girls and Ivo. We could share a comfortable silence, and when we did talk, I felt free to be myself with him – a sensation I hadn't experienced for a long time.
One morning, the Darkling joined us for breakfast. I couldn't help but glance at him from time to time as he sat at his table and Alisa noticed.
"Enough is enough," she declared with a determined expression.
"We need the details," Marie chimed in.
"You've got to spill the beans," Nadia added.
"What do I need to spill?" I asked, playing dumb.
"How is the training?" Alisa squeaked excitedly. "Is he great? I bet he's great. Is there anyone else with you when you train? Or is it a one-on-one affair?" She winked, "Did he show you what he can do? And do you-"
"Easy, Alisa, let her breath for Saint's sake," Eskil laughed. "She's barely touched her food, and you're already conducting a full-scale interrogation!" I shot him a grateful smile.
"It's alright, Eskil. She's right. I've been quieter than a mouse lately. I guess I owe you all an update."
"Yay!" Nadia clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Well, it's been… okay," I began. "I'm definitely making progress, and he's not as terrifying as Baghra. He's strict, but at least he's not completely unbearable," I added in a hushed tone. My lessons with him were actually by far the favourite part of my days. But they didn't need to know that.
They all chuckled softly.
"Anyone seems better than Baghra," Eskil quipped.
"Though we've heard plenty of spine-chilling stories about the Darkling too," Ivo mused. "He might be nice to you now, but don't let your guard down."
"He has a point," Eskil agreed. "You don't want to be in his way when he's angry. And you really don't want to be the cause of his anger."
"Come on, he wouldn't harm her!" Alisa's voice was a tad too loud for my comfort.
"Shh, lower your voices!" I chided them nervously. "Or better yet, let's switch topics. We can revisit this when he's not sitting so close."
The girls seemed slightly annoyed but complied, diving into a heated discussion about the eccentricities of the Corporalki. I tuned out, as I'd never truly understood the feud between the various Grisha orders. To me, they were all essentially the same. While it was fine to take pride in your abilities, they shouldn't define everything about you. Lately, I'd learned that merely donning the same coloured Kefta as the Darkling put me high up on the hierarchy. It struck me as utterly absurd. I wonder what the Darkling thinks about it. Is he the one who came with this nonsense or is it some long-standing tradition?
I wondered if I'd ever know. We spent a lot of time together, me and the Darkling, but we only ever talked about the training. There was still so much on my mind. I had so many questions, but I never found the right moment to ask. Our training sessions took up all our time, and he seemed busy with other matters. And even if I tried, he simply changed the topic. He didn't seem particularly eager to answer my questions. Little did I know that everything is about to change.
…
The night before that, I dreamt of Fjerda again. In the dream, I sat in the old wooden rocking chair that once belonged to my mother, the only piece of furniture she brought with her from Ravka. Freya rested peacefully on my lap, her purring soothing me. I was reading one of my favourite books, a hand-written collection of essays in old Ravkan. I remember asking my mother about it once, but she said she didn't know where it was from or who wrote it. It felt almost like someone's intimate diary, bearing the scars of deep, irreparable pain. As I ran my fingers over the words on the page, a phrase caught my eye: The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak.
Suddenly, Freya startled, digging her claws into my leg as a loud noise echoed through the dream. Banging at the door, that was so urgent and aggressive, it jolted me awake.
"Do you want us to break the door in?" a voice called from the hall. Disoriented, I stumbled to the door and opened it. A striking woman in a white Kefta entered, her red locks swaying with each step. Her presence left no room for argument as she ordered the servants to draw me a bath and prepare breakfast.
I frowned and opened my mouth to protest, but she lifted her finger to silence me. "The Darkling warned me that you don't respond well when you're not told what's happening, so let me fill you in. Your training with him today is cancelled. The king has arrived a day earlier than expected and wants to meet you immediately. I'm Genya, and I'm here to get you ready and," she measured me with a lifted eyebrow, "pretty."
I stood there awkwardly, trying to process the sudden change in plans, but before I could gather my thoughts, I was ushered into the bath. "Pretty?" I managed to utter.
"I'm a tailor," she explained. "A bit like a healer, but better. I can heal and also adjust, improve..." She scrutinised my face thoughtfully.
"Fuller lips might suit you," she suggested. "Maybe longer hair… But first things first." Her hand hovered above my arm, healing a bruise from my last training with Botkin.
"Why does the Darkling want you to change how I look?" I tried to hide how upsetting the thought was for me.
"It's not about the Darkling. But the court prefers their Grisha to be flawless," she elaborated. "I won't change anything you're uncomfortable with, but let me at least get rid of the dark circles," she added, noticing my hesitation.
When her work was done, I gazed into the mirror and fought back tears. The face gazing back showed no signs of the trauma I'd endured. It was a version of me that hadn't lived through hell. A version that hadn't been abused, hurt, hunted, and tortured. A version that hadn't taken another person's life.
"It's only temporary," she said, watching me thoughtfully. "But it will serve its purpose for today."
"Thank you," I managed a grateful smile.
My stomach churned with nervousness, yet Genya insisted I eat before we departed. Guiding me outdoors, she led me to the awaiting coach of the Darkling. He joined us shortly after we boarded, settling beside me.
As the coach started moving, I studied his face. It was hard to read, like always, but this time, something felt off. He seemed tense.
"Should I be worried?" I asked, studying his face. "You are worried."
"Am I?" he replied, tilting his head to the side.
"I think you are," I nodded. "Why?" We sat, measuring each other in silence, and Genya, sitting opposite us, seemed taken aback by our intense exchange.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Darkling spoke, never breaking eye contact. "The king isn't pleased that we started your training before he had the chance to meet you."
"Does he want to send me back?" I nervously bit my lip.
"That won't happen," he asserted calmly. "I won't allow it."
"Then… what is it?" I insisted, sensing his tension.
He stayed silent, watching me as if he tried to read my mind.
"He wants you to prove your loyalty to him," Genya cut in. "The Apparat has been poisoning his mind, and now it's-" she fell silent and lowered her head, noticing Darkling's disapproving gaze.
"Prove my loyalty? How do I do that? And who's the Apparat? And why does he-"
The Darkling silenced me with a raised hand. "Too many questions," he dismissed. "We don't have time for that," he gestured toward the window as The Grand Palace came into view. The Darkling tapped on the roof of the coach and it immediately came to a stop.
"Why do I always have to struggle so hard to get even a glimpse of what's happening in my own life?" I blurted out. "Why can't you just tell me, for once?" My frustration was evident as the Darkling seemed to ignore me, preoccupied with opening the door.
"And why can't you trust me, for once?" he retorted, jumping out of the coach. "Wait here," he instructed and walked off to talk with the palace guard.
"And why do you two argue like an old married couple?" Genya whispered in my ear, her eyes wide with confusion. "Be careful, Klara. He doesn't tolerate being spoken back to, and not many people get away with it more than once."
"Really? Well, I don't appreciate someone else dictating my life without bothering to explain-"
"Listen to me!" Genya whispered sharply. "I don't know how you lived in Fjerda, but know that any independence you might have had there is gone now. I don't know why the General is allowing you to disrespect him like this, but what I do know is that it won't be like that for long. You might share the same power, but you are not his equal and you never will be," she urged, her face genuinely worried. "You answer to him, you are one of his Grisha. He is the one who decides what will happen to you, and you are by no means entitled to know-"
Genya's sentence was left hanging as the Darkling abruptly re-entered the coach and took his seat beside me. His gaze moved from Genya's irritated expression to my stunned one, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed the situation.
"What... did I miss?" he inquired slowly.
"We just had a friendly chat, moi soverenyi," Genya replied with a bright smile.
I avoided the Darkling's gaze and looked out of the window instead. The remainder of the journey to the Grand Palace was spent in silence. The coach eventually stopped in front of the majestic building.
I didn't appreciate Genya scolding me like a child, but I had to admit she did have a point. He was, after all, the Dark General. Stepping out of the coach, the Darkling and I walked side by side.
"Let me handle this," he directed. "Only speak when spoken to, keep a low profile and don't talk back to anyone," he paused and faced me. "Do you understand?" he asked, his tone incredibly serious.
"I do," I replied, meeting his gaze briefly before he subtly nodded and offered his arm. As a grand golden gate in front of us opened, it revealed a magnificent hall filled with Grisha, each sorted according to their orders. The atmosphere hushed as we walked in, and every face turned towards us. Genya had vanished from sight.
"We are expected," the Darkling announced, and the room immediately came alive with activity. The Grisha lined up and began to walk through the large door at the end of the hall. First, the Materialki in their purple keftas, followed by the Etherealki in blue, and then Corporalki in red. We followed behind them, two black shadows surrounded by a vibrant flood of colours.
As we entered the throne room, I couldn't help but be struck by the stark contrast between the Grand Palace and the Little Palace. The opulence and displays of wealth visible from the outside were nothing compared to the sheer extravagance of the interior. The Throne Room soared three stories high, with columns stretching tall and adorned with intricate golden designs. Ornate gilded motifs and floral patterns adorned the walls and ceiling, while chandeliers of golden crystal hung from above, each boasting twenty-four gleaming arms. The richness of it all made me ponder about the countless people who could have been fed if the royal family didn't demand such luxury.
We proceeded slowly toward the golden throne. The king didn't strike me as particularly remarkable. A man in his forties with thinning hair and a moustache he was probably too proud of. His military uniform was decorated with medals, and while he appeared slim, a slight bulge on his abdomen suggested a forming belly. His small bloodshot eyes and the broken blood vessels on his nose hinted at a possible alcohol problem.
The queen, in contrast, looked flawless. I couldn't help but study her face, searching for any imperfection, but there was none to be found. Her beauty seemed almost otherworldly, as if she couldn't possibly be real. Her eyes were an impossibly vibrant blue, her hair shimmered with an unnatural shine, and her skin was flawlessly smooth. Genya's signature was all over her.
As we came to a halt before them, another figure drew my attention behind the royal couple. A middle-aged man dressed in the flowing robes of a priest, adorned with a prominent golden double eagle on his chest. His gaze fixated on me with a palpable disdain.
"Moi tsar, moya tsaritsa, Klara Solberg, the shadow summoner," the Darkling announced with a clear voice, introducing me to the peculiar pair. I had no idea what was expected of me, so I just kept my head down as instructed.
"She doesn't look very Fjerdan," the king said as if I wasn't standing right in front of him.
"Or very special," the queen added.
"We'll see about that. Show me," the king commanded. I glanced at the Darkling, uncertain of what to do. The Darkling nodded reassuringly and offered me his hand. I was confident enough to summon without amplification, but I decided not to take any chances in front of them.
As our hands connected, an electrifying surge coursed through me. The Darkling had amplified me before, but this was an entirely distinct sensation. My entire being seemed to hum with newfound power. Fleetingly, a hint of surprise flitted across his eyes, a subtle shift that I almost doubted I had witnessed.
The shadows surged forth, their tendrils spreading throughout the hall. Gasps and cries filled the air as the darkness wrapped around us, shrouding the throne room in an eerie veil. As the last rays of light disappeared, I flicked my hand again, dissolving the shadows and filling the room with light once more. With the final wisp of darkness fading away, the Darkling released my hand, his countenance unchanged, his demeanour unwavering, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
"Impossible," the priest cried out, starting to walk in my direction, his finger pointed at me. "She should not exist! She is the spawn of hell, the successor of the black heretic, the sign of our doom," he snarled, reaching to grab me. The Darkling smoothly inserted himself between us, his presence an immovable barrier. Their faces mere inches apart, they locked eyes, a clash of wills unfolding.
"She is nothing of the sort, moi tsar," the Darkling addressed the king with his gaze steady on the priest, his voice remarkably composed. "She is simply a shadow summoner, just like me."
"But she is not of your lineage!" The priest's voice cracked with hysteria. "She cannot exist!"
"While I was surprised to find her, moi Tsar, there is nothing impossible about her existence," the Darkling continued to address the king without moving his eyes from the angry man in front of him. "It is unusual, but shadow summoners have always been here. We only ever knew of one lineage, but that doesn't mean it was the only one in existence. Besides, she is Fjerdan, and we don't know much about their Grisha, as they have always remained in hiding. There is no bad omen, moi Tsar, no new black heretic. Only a Fjerdan Grisha seeking sanctuary," he concluded, shifting his gaze back to the priest. "Is there anything else?" he inquired with a restrained growl.
The priest begrudgingly retreated, his animosity palpable.
Throughout this exchange, the king had listened, his focus eventually turning to me.
"And what do you say, shadow summoner?" he addressed me directly. "What are you?"
"I'm not entirely sure of my family lineage, moi tsar," I replied honestly, trying to keep my voice steady. "But I am devoted to the country that welcomed me as one of their own and saved my life. I will remain forever loyal and protect it with all my might. I am eternally grateful to you, moi tsar," I added, bowing deeply. An amused glint danced in the Darkling's eyes, while the king seemed content with my answer.
"General Kirigan reported your vital intelligence about an enemy base within Ravkan borders," the king nodded. "Your information has been invaluable."
"She will prove to be an asset to the Second Army once her training is complete, moi tsar," the Darkling interjected.
"I wish for her return to Ulensk," the king declared suddenly. "I wish her to aid you in the matter of the base."
The priest's eyes widened. "Moi tsar, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I agree with the Apparat," the Darkling followed. "She is not a part of the Second Army yet." So this is the Apparat, I noted for myself.
"So what? I want her there," the king repeated.
The Darkling frowned. "She has only just begun her training, moi tsar, and while her talent is undeniable, she should absolutely not be taken-"
"You can train her there," the king interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "Train her in Ulensk… Now I think about it… She can be the first one to train in the new base!" He clapped his hands excitedly, as if he had just come up with a brilliant idea.
A base? Train me at the new base? What base?
I opened my mouth to repeat the last question out loud, but the Darkling quickly interjected.
"As you wish, moi tsar," he slightly bowed and gestured for me to walk with him. What just happened? What new base? Does he mean the one I was tortured in?
As we walked side by side, surrounded by the other Grisha, questions swirled in my mind, but before I had a chance to ask anything, the Darkling quickly shook his head. "Not now," he said, glancing at the Grisha around us.
"We will be leaving in two hours," he announced to the group. "Ivan, you know what to do," he directed one of the young Heartrenders I had seen before. Genya appeared behind me, whispering a quick, "Good luck!" and pressing my hand before I was ushered back into the coach. The Darkling took a seat next to me, and the coach immediately started moving.
He looked at me expectantly, a mild smile playing on his lips. "Well?" he asked. "You may ask your questions now," he said. I was dying to learn about the base but something about his expression threw me off.
"Why do you seem so… pleased?" I inquired.
"Perhaps I am pleased," he replied cryptically.
"Why? We have to go to Ulensk. You lost," I pointed out.
"Did I?" he lifted an eyebrow. "The king did exactly what I wanted him to do."
I stared at him, my confusion evident. "Please," I said. "Don't make me ask. Just tell me what the hell are you talking about."
He chuckled softly. "There is a lot going on at the Fjerdan border lately, the Druskelle base being just a fraction of the problem. The best way for me to deal with that is to be there, but I also want to supervise your training. That is why we have been building a new training base near our camp in Ulensk."
"Then why didn't we just stay there in the first place?" I wondered.
"Because the king is a little paranoid, when it comes to me. He would think I want to keep you hidden, concealing your progress, and plotting against him. This way, I gently planted the idea in his head yesterday and followed his direct order today. With a hint of resistance, of course, because the Apparat would otherwise suspect I manipulated him."
"Didn't you?" I asked.
"I might have," corners of his lips twitched with a hint of a smile. "But they don't need to know, do they? We started building right when you informed me about the Fjerdan base. It's not quite done yet, but the most important things are ready."
"The most important things being coincidentally everything you need to work and live comfortably while training another shadow summoner, I suppose?" I said with a hint of sarcasm.
"Naturally," he smiled. "And don't worry, we have accommodations for your comfort as well," he continued. "I heard you're doing well with your theory, and you can continue your studies there under my supervision. Botkin will unfortunately not be travelling with us, but I'm sure we'll find someone else to spar with you. I wouldn't mind doing that myself from time to time," he added, lifting his eyebrow. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
He seemed to be in his element, visibly happy with the way things were going. Moreover, I suspected he enjoyed seeing how puzzled I was by it all. He must have planned this the whole time, I thought.
"Are you alright?" He snapped me out of my thoughts after a while, his expression growing serious. "I know it's near the border, but we will be completely safe, you have my word. It is walled in and protected by a fort, and it will be heavily guarded. And I, of course, don't expect you to join the attack on the Druskelle base, not that we planned to do that any time soon. I'm moving you there simply because it's practical," he explained, his gaze unwavering.
"I know, I'm... fine," I muttered, managing a smile. He studied my face intently.
"I enjoyed your pledge of eternal loyalty and gratitude," he changed the topic with a lighter tone.
I let out a soft laugh. "I had a lot of practice . A woman can't survive in Fjerda without buttering men up," I shrugged. "Was it too much?"
"Nothing is too much. Not for the king" he smiled. "It was helpful." The coach came to a halt at the Little Palace, and the Darkling helped me step out.
"We will leave in two hours. No need to worry about packing your things; the servants will take care of all that, including gathering your books and any other theory materials you might need," he said matter-of-factly. "Now if you excuse me, I have some matters to take care of," he added with a slight bow before strolling away. Still uncertain about how to fill my time, I lingered there, hearing the murmur of voices as the remaining Grisha filtered in from the Grand Palace.
"I'll never understand why the Darkling is so invested in her," I overheard someone say. "Because she's the precious shadow summoner," another voice sneered.
"Yeah, but who knows if she'd even be able to summon anything without him."
Avoiding their gossip, I hurried around the corner. I wasn't one to care much about people's opinions, but maybe it was because I hadn't been around many. It felt like a vulnerability, yet I couldn't shake the desire for their approval. They didn't have to be my friends, just not think of me as a fraud. And some basic respect would be nice.
Lost in my thoughts, my feet led me to the stables, and I thought of visiting Botkin. I found him fixing one of the battered straw dummies we used for combat training. He didn't seem surprised to see me.
"How did the meeting with the king go?" he inquired.
"I'm in one piece and still here, so... I'd say it went well?"
He chuckled. "And yet you're here to bid farewell."
"I am... I'm heading to Ulensk to continue training. How did you know?"
"I had a feeling that might happen," he remarked. "The Darkling has been pestering me with questions about your progress so much that I told him he should just train you himself. And guess what? He said he might," Botkin chuckled. "I think he wants to make sure we don't lose the first new shadow summoner in ages on her first fight," he commented as he stood up and walked toward me. "You have talent, and he's a skilled fighter. You'll be in good hands," he added, patting my back so strongly it almost knocked the breath out of me. "Good luck, Klara," he smiled warmly. "I'll be looking forward to seeing your progress."
I left, thinking about his words. Working on my powers with the Darkling was rewarding, but I was very aware why I didn't want to get involved in a physical fight with him. Just thinking about it was enough to make my heart race. As I got lost in my thoughts, I found myself inside the stables without even realising it.
"Hiding among the horses again?" a cheery voice called out, and I looked up to see Eskil's friendly face.
"Eskil!" I laughed. "You scared livskiten out of me!" He chuckled in response.
"What are you doing here?" he asked as I approached Sigrid gently stroking her snout.
"I honestly don't know. I didn't have a plan, so I decided to take a stroll."
He glanced at his pocket watch. "We still have an hour," he noted, taking my hand. "Come."
We ran through the estate to the birch grove behind the Little Palace.
"Have you ever been here?" Eskil asked, and I shook my head. "Then it's good you found me before leaving," he grinned. "Welcome to banya! Not many things in Ravka feel as Fjerdan as this."
He was right. Banya was an intricate arrangement of steam baths and saunas, accompanied by ice-cold ponds for refreshing. It felt just like a piece of home. As we shed our clothes and stepped into the steam-filled chamber, Eskil deftly retrieved a concealed bottle of kvas. We each took a sip, relishing the familiar flavour. We chatted away, trying to endure the intense heat as long as possible before dashing out, plunging into the freezing pond, only to repeat the cycle again.
Time slipped away from us as we lost ourselves in laughter and shared memories. "Faen!" Eskil exclaimed as he checked his watch. "We really, really have to go, Klara. We have to go now!" We hastily donned our damp clothing before sprinting back to the Little Palace, hand in hand. Although everyone else was already assembled, including the Darkling, we managed to arrive just in time. His gaze rested on our linked hands as we arrived, giggling, our cheeks still flushed from the steam.
As Eskil mounted his horse, I scanned the familiar faces around me. It was comforting to see some of those who had treated me well coming along. Marie, Nadia, and Ivo had to stay behind, as their training was ongoing, but Alisa and Eskil were joining us. However, the sight of Zoya Nazalensky among the riders didn't exactly thrill me.
I bid farewell with hugs to Marie, Nadia, and Ivo, promising I will write to them. Despite occasionally being a handful, I couldn't deny that they had grown on me over time. I'm going to miss them.
"Shall we?" The Darkling motioned toward his black coach.