Summary: No one said being the Sun Summoner would be easy
Alina's composure lasts only as long as it takes for her to be left alone in the lavish suite she has been escorted too. Stumbling over to the bed, she drops into the soft covers and cries as the pain and shock from the last few days finally overwhelms her. It feels like her heart is breaking as her mind torturously insists on replaying in glorious technicolour the ambush and her argument with Aleksander. It is the latter which, rightly or wrongly, is uppermost in her mind and prompts a fresh wave of tears.
It hurts. Everything hurts. Her body aches from the punishing ride, her head is pounding from her tears and the injuries it has taken and her bruises throb with every sob, just to add to her woes.
Its in this state that the healer finds her. The man who enters the room after knocking is tall, with a mess of dark blond hair and a very familiar face. With a gentle voice he introduces himself as Garin, head healer at the Little Palace, and personal healer to General Kirigan. It's with surprise that she finally places the familiar voice as the healer who helped her mother all those years ago. It helps. Where she might have been tempted to send an unknown person away, Garin is someone she knows, even if mostly through Aleksander's letters, and he is a comfort in this unfamiliar place.
It takes the healer time to check each of injuries. He sighs over the bruises and tuts over the various scrapes and cuts she sustained in her flight from the carriage, but its her head that elicits a hiss of displeasure from him. With gentle hands he prods at her swollen cheek and the knot that throbs on the back of her skull. This is where he concentrates his healing, as he explains to her. The lesser bruises he will leave as he needs to retain some power in case of any emergencies that might arise, but her head wounds are too serious not to mend and he worries about possible long-term damage. He leaves her an hour later with strict instructions to rest, eat and to come to him if there is any sign of dizziness of headaches. With perfect timing as he leaves a maid comes in bearing a tray with covered dishes and a large pitcher of water.
The food is a good, hearty casserole and despite the emotional trauma of the day she eats with gusto, realising that she's surprisingly hungry. Eating helps distract her from the dark thoughts circling her mind but, soon after her meal is finished, they return with greater force and persistency, making new tears sting her eyes as she settles back into the pillows on the bed.
The loneliness of the next hour is crippling as she tries desperately to reassure herself that she is mistaken in what she saw yesterday, that she is wrong about Aleksander, and that despite the bleak outlook now things will get better. There is paper on the gilt desk across the room from her, and she briefly thinks of writing to her mother, before reality reminds her that she has no way to get a missive to her mother – and that even if she did, how could she hope to explain the events of the past 48 hours?
It's as she is considering this problem that there's another knock on the door. With trembling legs Alina crosses across the room to open the door, shaky with exhaustion, only to stumble back in shock as she sees who her visitor is. There before her, as if summoned by the desperate wishing of Alina's tired mind, is her mother.
With a soft cry she finds herself pulled into the loving familiar embrace of her mother, who guides her now sobbing daughter to sit on the bed, stroking her hair soothingly as she hums a lullaby under her breath while she rocks them both. It's an emotional half hour as Alina haltingly tells her mama what has happened to her and the discovery that she is the Sun Summoner.
With a frown Mei-Xing considers what her daughter has told her, her agile mind turning the facts over and over while she thinks of what to say to her distraught child. Alina's fears are not unreasonable. In fact she has sometimes wondered the same, and while she has come to respect General Kirigan and cherish the company he has provided over the years, she has never been under any illusion as to who he came to their cottage for, or the reason for his benevolence. Right from the start, from the first moment she had seen them together there had been a connection between them, an invisible tether tying them together, and over the years she had only seen it grow stronger. That connection, she has no doubt is genuine. Whether or not he knew of her daughter's power, and whether that influenced his behaviour, now that's the question.
Part of her, the romantic part that had been dormant since that terrible day 14 years before, thought he had no idea, that his love was that of an innocent. She thought of his sudden departure some years ago and the reason she had thought then as to what had driven him from Alina's side. The other part, the larger and more world weary part, mocked such romantic thoughts, shouting about the unlikely coincidence of it all, of the man's unnatural fixation with her child. What man would show such interest in a power bound child unless he knew what she would become? Especially when the man is a General in the middle of a long and taxing war. A war in which her daughter's newly discovered power will play a pivotal part.
So no, Alina's fears are entirely understandable, natural even, but there was little Mei-Xing could counsel in this situation. Given Alina's affection for this man whatever she said had the risk of being wrong and driving her away. Finally, after a long moment, she says gently – "you must let his behaviour be your guide, Alinochka. Men may hide behind pretty words, but truth is told through their actions. So you watch him, my love, that will show you if it is as you fear. But first you must apologise." She looks sternly at her daughter.
"Whatever the truth of his intentions it was wrong to act as you did – to deliberately try to cause someone you have called friend for so long pain in such a way is wrong, and I did not raise you to be a cruel or unkind person."
Alina nods tearfully as she gratefully accepts another hug from her mother. Guilt is horrid emotion and one which had been, up to the point, mostly unfamiliar to Alina, who was by neither nature nor inclination prone to unkindness, especially to those she held dear.
"I love him, mama," she cries softly into her mother's arms, "I love him, but can I trust him?"
"Oh my darling," her mother says softly as she presses a gentle kiss to her daughter's hair, "that is something only you can decide."
It is hard to part after so long apart, but eventually Alina can stop her yawns no longer, and with a loving smile her mother tucks her into the sumptuous bed as she bids her goodnight. She is so tired and worn out that she is only vaguely away of her mother dousing the lights before leaving.
When Aleksander had sent a note with her breakfast tray warning her that Genya would be by to make her ready to meet the Tsar she hadn't really known what to expect. In her worst moments she thought she would be like one of the strict matrons in the medical corps, distant and unkind, or else like those girls who teased her for her Shu heritage.
Genya is beautiful. That's Alina's first thought. Her bright red hair gleams in the light and looks striking against the white kefta she wears. That she is also kind and considerate rapidly becomes apparent as she spots Alina's discomfort and proceeds to shoo the officious maids out the door.
Seeing her mother has helped settle Alina's nerves a bit, but she still feels overwhelmed by the whole situation and out of place in these opulent rooms. Genya's presence is soothing, reassuring, calming, as she explains what she is there to do and her upcoming presentation to the Imperial court, and Alina takes an immediate liking to the other woman.
With a smile, the tailor sets to work, and within only a few minutes Alina no longer recognises the tired careworn girl she had seen in the mirror that morning. She still looks like herself – thank the saints – but like her best self, as if she has had enough to eat and sleep over the past few years. Her skin glows with a health and vitality at odds with the bone deep weariness she feels. Her hair is no longer tangled but instead flows down her back in glossy dark waves and the bruises she had been so self-conscious of on her face have disappeared.
With gentle hands, Genya helps Alina pull on the finest made First Army uniform she has ever seen. While it may look similar to the uniform she has worn for over a year, there is where the similarities end. The cloth is much finer, the buttons gold rather than the pewter ones she is familiar with, and the leather of the boots is thicker and much better quality. It's a costly uniform and Alina can't help the scowl that forms at both the expense and the pantomime aspect of this. If the Tsar wishes to see her in the uniform of the Imperial army then why shouldn't she simply wear the one she arrived in? The cost of the clothes she's wearing now could fund medicine, new boots or thicker blankets for her fellow soldiers to keep them warm in the fast approaching winter.
The First Army is starving and the Tsar wastes money on dressing her up like a doll. The wave of anger that washes over her at the thought makes her hands shake as the Tailor fixes the ridiculous hat to her head and gently arranges the heavy gold veil to cover her face. For a moment all Alina can see is gold as she is led out of her room and down the grand marble staircase to her awaiting escort.
Her nerves have finally kicked in by the time she reaches the vestibule, shouting that she cannot do this, that she has no idea how to prove or call the sun, so it is a relief to see Aleksander standing calm, collected and self-assured as he takes her arm from Genya and leads her out of the door. Something of her nerves must have been apparent to the man though as he watches her carefully for a moment.
"Please don't worry, Alina," Aleksander says softly as he positions her hand on his arm in what she recognises as a courtly gesture. "I would not embarrass you. If you believe nothing else, you must believe that." The look he is giving her would melt harder hearts than hers and she can do little more than nod as he leads her across the stunning gardens and up to the Grand Palace itself.
Inside the palace is even worse than the outside, a feat Alina had been sure was impossible only a few moments before. How a place where so much money has been spent could look so gaudy and horrible was a mystery to her, but it managed it. The dark marble of the floors gave the palace a cold uninviting feel while the gold decorations and accenting just made her eyes hurt.
Trying not to stumble down the steps she can barely see through the heavy gold veil, Alina stares around her. With a chuckle she felt Aleksander lean down to whisper softly, "it's hideous, isn't it. It's a wonder to me how awful the Lantsov's have managed to make the Grand Palace. We may be the 'little' palace, but I would rather live there any day than in this monument to bad taste and utter selfishness. I suppose it must be true what they say – if you want to know what the saints think of money just look at who they give it too."
Alina smiles, gripping his sleeve tighter as she tries to repress her laughter at Aleksander's irreverent comment. It is familiar, this rapport, and she feels it relax her as she is led down another hall. Any sense of calm, however, disappears as she is led through a door expecting another hall only to find herself in an enormous, almost cavernous, room filled to the brim with expensively dressed people and a dais at one end with who can only be the Tsar, Tsarina and the Tsarevitch.
It is not an auspicious introduction and she quickly understands both Aleksander's and Baghra's antipathy towards the ruling family. They are rude! Rude, dismissive and just to add to the fun, casually racist and sexist as well. Why shouldn't she be a girl? Why does it matter what height she is or that her mother came from Shu Han.
When the Tsarina asks the ambassador to greet her in Shu she can't help but retort crossly that while she has Shu heritage she doesn't actually speak the language. Beside her she feels Aleksander tense and fears she has gone too far before she spots a smile flash over his face in amusement at her ornery mistruth. She actually speaks and writes Shu fluently, with such a mother as Mei-Xing of course she does, but that doesn't mean she appreciates being spoken at rather than too by presumptuous monarchs.
Things don't improve over the next 10 minutes as she listens in annoyed silence to first the pontifications of the Tsar and then has to extend her hand to the slimy Tsarevitch and let him paw at her. She is should be grateful that Aleksander decides that is the moment to prove she is who he claims she is as it gives her an escape except that this feels very much like jumping out of the frying pan and landing in the fire.
Right on schedule her nerves kick up a notch as familiar shadows shroud the room in darkness. She is visibly shaking by the time Aleksander turns to her, offering her a pale un-gloved hand and a reassuring smile. Taking a deep breath she reaches out and grasps his hand.
Light erupts out of her in a sparkling ball, dazzling the spectators who gasp, but she is notices none of this. Instead, all she sees is the soft awe filled look in Aleksander's eyes, which have turned molten and dark as they gaze at her.
Looking at her like this, all her fears and doubts melt away, swallowed by the heat in his eyes.
The moment is soon over though and as the shadows give way to daylight so her doubts rush back into the space where peace had reigned only seconds before.
Thunderous clapping shocks her out of her stillness and with a blush she lets go of Aleksander's hand, ducking her head to avoid the hundreds of people staring at her. Eyes fixed on the floor she hears Aleksander's assured voice as he proclaims her the long-awaited Sun Summoner before starting to discuss her training with the Tsar. If more is discussed she doesn't hear it as with a raucous din the waiting Grisha swarm around her, hugging and touching her; some are crying, others laughing but all are determined to express their delight.
The journey back to the Little Palace is far more chaotic and noisy than her walk there had been. Some of the Grisha around her are singing or laughing but this doesn't stop others from also bombarding her with questions. It seems like everyone wants to know everything about her, and all at once. She barely has time to start responding to one question before another is asked and she forgets what she had been going to say. It's exhausting and it's a huge relief when they reach the confines of her new home and many of the younger, and louder, Grisha are hurried away back to the nursery and junior wing.
The celebration dinner, in what she learns is the senior dining room, is a wonderful teat and rarely has she tasted such mouth-watering food. The luxury of the dinner is almost enough to make her agree with one of Mal's favourite complaints about the Second Army until Fedyor comments that this is in her honour and she should enjoy it as the normal fare is not at all like this.
By the third course Alina is starting to flag and all she wants is to lie down somewhere and sleep off the nagging exhaustion she has felt since she woke up in the carriage. She finally escapes just as a terribly drunk Fedyor drags a comically resistant Ivan onto the Corporalki table and starts dancing. She manages to make it to the staircase she thinks will lead her to her room unnoticed and unescorted, but there her luck runs out. With a bow one of Aleksander's oprinichki materialises next to her and takes her arm, escorting her to what he says is the General's study.
In contrast to the War Room - which is windowless and oddly small and intimate - Aleksander's study is huge; with large windows on two sides through which the twilight glitters, offsetting the heavy oak panelling and oversized marble fireplace. This is an imposing room designed to impress and in this it doesn't fail as Alina looks around with wide eyes.
Near the windows are comfortable looking chairs, but it is the side opposite her which captures her attention. Along the wall are floor to ceiling bookcases, stuffed to the brim with books, scrolls, rolls and what looks like maps. It is not bookshelves which catch her attention, however, as there before them in the middle of the room is a large oak desk behind which Aleksander is sat, scribbling something on a piece of parchment.
With a thin smile he stands and greets her, asking her how she is and whether she liked dinner. His manner is stiff and formal even after the guard leaves alone and it sets Alina on edge as she tries to answer. The comforting presence he had exuded that morning is long gone and in its place is the familiar stranger from yesterday. Despite her mother's advice, Alina feels her back stiffen and has to fight the urge to respond defensively. Taking a deep breath she answers as calmly as she can and is rewarded by a fuller, more genuine smile from her old friend and he visibly relaxes.
The conversation gets better from there as Aleksander talks to her about the plans he is putting in place for her training and what she can expect for the next few days. By the time Alina leaves 15 minutes later she is feeling more relaxed and hopeful that they can come through this, that her fears are unfounded, particularly after his offer to courier any letters she has for her mother via Ivan. She understands why it isn't a good idea for her mother to come often to the Little Palace, as much for her own protection as anything else, but the ability to regularly communicate, even if just by letter, is a balm to her worried mind and she goes to bed that night much happier than the last.
Going from living in a tent in an army camp, surrounded every minute of every day by noise and people, to waking up wrapped in luxurious bedding on a plush bed, in a silent room, completely by yourself, takes getting used too. For Alina it's like living in a particularly comfortably prison with gold accents; it's pretty, it's comfortable, it's the nicest room she has ever been in, but it is still a prison. She is escorted to it, she is escorted from it, and for those first few days at least, she is strongly discouraged from going off exploring by the ferocious scowl that seems to have taken up permanent residence on Ivan's face.
Four days of this is enough to drive Alina mad with frustration, especially as in this time she's only seen Aleksander twice; once during her presentation and then again that evening when they finally had a chance to talk. Since then she has seen neither hide nor hair of him. It's a distance that makes her feel jittery and lost in this foreign world she has suddenly found herself in. For all her lessons with him on the small science and Grisha, Alina can't help but feel abandoned, alone, frightened and confused.
Everything is different here in the Little Palace. Even eating is full of politics and fraught with the possibility for error – as Marie and Nadia had been kind enough to explain that first evening. As an Etherealki she now wears a blue kefta and is expected to sit with her order. As the Sun Summoner though, she technically outranks everyone - with the exception of the Black General himself - so she can sit on the top table, the one reserved for the General, his personal guests and important visitors. The thought of sitting on the black and gold dressed table, isolated and on display, sends a frisson of dread racing down Alina's spine and she had quickly but firmly refused when Genya had tried to lead her there the first morning.
The fourth morning of her new life dawns and she expects it to follow the same dreaded format as the previous two: Genya would shortly appear to ready her for the day before escorting her to breakfast. After enduring stilted, uncomfortable conversation and a dreadful meal of something no doubt disgusting but good for her, Alina would then be taken back to her room by a sour faced Ivan for dress fittings; apparently the Sun Summoner needs a lot more clothes than Alina ever did. So it's with delight the Tailor informs her that Aleksander has asked if she would like a ride with him that morning. An impatient 20 minutes later sees Alina trotting down the marble staircase at top speed as she makes for the door she remembers as leading towards the stable block.
She can't help but let out a laugh of joy when she spots Beauty standing patiently by the mounting block and she rushes over to greet her equine friend with kisses and nuzzles as she strokes his nose. Aleksander's indulgent tone reminds her of her environs, and she regretfully takes a step back as she turns to smile at her old friend.
With a relaxed, friendly smile, Aleksander offers to let her ride Beauty while he takes the pretty dappled grey standing two posts down from the temperamental Trakehner, and she laughs as he helps her up onto the saddle for her first solo ride.
In moments they are off, racing along the path and then off across the Ravkan countryside.
The glade they arrive in is a pretty sort of wilderness she would never have expected so close to the perfectly manicured gardens of the Imperial Palace. This close to winter there are few flowers and the trees are rapidly losing their leaves but she thinks this would be a riot of colour and really quite stunning during the spring and summer when the wild flowers are in bloom.
Tying the horses to a nearby tree, the pair walk over to a finely carved stone well, and Alina watches as Aleksander starts to clear it of twigs and detritus from the trees overhanging it. Once or twice she thinks he is going to speak but each time he seems to change him mind at the last moment, shaking his head and resuming his self-appointed task of gardener.
With a frown Alina watches him as he finishes his task and joins her to view it. With a sigh he stares at the carvings for a long moment before he asks her how she is settling into her new rooms. Casting a glance over the familiar story, Alina turns her attention to her companion, allowing him to distract her and change the topic.
He will tell her when he's ready.
They arrive back at the Little Palace in time for lunch and then, almost before she knows it, its time for her first lesson with Baghra.
With some trepidation she knocks on the door to the cottage she has been told is Baghra's. The door opens and there before her is the familiar white haired woman she came to know so well during her childhood.
"Hmm, so it you, girl," is all Baghra says as she walks back to her chair.
And that is the end of the expected interrogation. From that point on Baghra makes no mention or even allusion to their previous lessons and familiarity with each other. For Alina this is both an unlooked for bonus and unexpected pain and she is undecided even weeks later as to which out weighs the other.
Her sessions with Baghra are gruelling and exhausting and she leaves each one annoyed and increasingly dispirited at her lack of progress. It seems like no matter what she tries she can't do more than summon sparks of light that fizz across a room in pretty rainbows but which are otherwise useless. She longs for the ease she felt when Aleksander held her hand in front of the Imperial court, but Baghra whacks her leg when suggests using this as a teaching aid, telling her that no good will come from using an amplifier as a short cut to learning how to call her power.
"Power is earnt," Baghra says to her with a frown, "you must learn how to call your sun yourself or else you'll always be beholden to an amplifier to use what is yours!" and Alina hears the warning in those words, the hidden trap she knows she must not fall into. There is a certainty in her heart that this power might be for others, but it must be her and only her who controls it.
And so life continues in the Little Palace. Slowly but surely Alina starts to feel more comfortable in the luxurious environs and with her fellow Grisha. She has never found it easy to make friends, and now with her status as the only Sun Summoner it seems even harder to know who really likes her and who is merely after something, but as the days pass she comes to find her place. Unlike the others who tend to socialise only with the others in their order, she decides to ignore that convention and instead flows freely betwixt and between Etherealki, Materialki and Corporalki, talking to anyone who will sit with her as she learns more about her new people. The group of friends she eventually gathers reflect this and she wonders is Aleksander is pleased that she is slowly but surely breaking down the barriers and ridiculous snobbery that exists between the different orders.
Despite the closeness of her new found friends and her mother's anchoring presence, Alina misses the Aleksander of her youth, the one she had been certain of and never had cause to question. The new Aleksander she is coming to know here is subtly different to her old friend; here he is more guarded and smiles less. When she sees him at dinner he sits at the top table and despite what she had assumed from his behaviour with her as a child he rarely visits the nursery or junior dining rooms. She watches him deal with nobles, army officials and even other Grisha. He is as courteous as ever, but it feels like every word is weighed and tested before he utters it, the consummate politician not the cheeky young man who teased her about the ugliness of the Imperial Palace.
With her, when they are alone, he is more at ease and laughs as he used too, but that stops as soon as they are in public. The two personas create a discordant image in Alina's brain that is hard to reconcile and it makes her feel jittery and awkward as if she has forgotten a dance she once knew well.
If Alina's days are exhausting then she finds little rest at night. In the dark she dreams, the same dream for weeks now, of snowy mountains and the search for something lost. In some she wanders for hours around the barren tundra searching for something, in others she follows a ghost like shape darting away from her, always just out of sight. Each morning she wakes to the sensation of hot breath puffing against her neck and whispers tickling her cheek, but when she opens her eyes its to an empty room and the pale dawn light flickering through the shutters.
Confused and annoyed by the repetitive dream and the anxious state it leaves her in, she eventually confides to a worried Genya her dreams and the incomprehensible feeling she has that she's meant to be looking for something precious that she needs to find. Her friend smiles at her and pats her shoulder sympathetically as she dismisses it as a symptom of stress and recommends talking to Garin for a tonic to help give her dreamless sleep. It's a sensible suggestion, but in the privacy of her own mind, Alina wonders.
The dreams aren't the only thing praying on the new Sun Summoner's mind, however, but the others are thoughts she can confide to no one – not even her beloved mother. The Fold troubles her, its nature and its creation; she knows what she felt in that dark place, and it gnaws at her, worrying her, the secrets it's already told her and the secrets she knows Aleksander is keeping from her.
For all his talk of honesty, he might not be technically lying but he is certainly withholding things from her. Is it still a lie if it is an omission rather than an untruth? She wants to trust him again, the way she had scant weeks ago. How she feels for him has not changed but her mind remains troubled and distrustful. It's a pain she knows both of them feel yet has no idea how to resolve.
It's these thoughts that drive her away from the entertainments taking place in the ballroom to instead find somewhere she can be alone to think things through. She spots Fedyor distracted by one of the hoop games and quickly ducks out of the nearest door before he can see her and follow. Much to everyone's satisfaction, Aleksander has relented on the number of guards that need to follow her around the confines of the Little Palace and agreed to substitute Ivan for Fedyor as her chief of security. It is a change that suits them all and even managed to bring a relieved smile to Ivan's face when he heard the news. As much as she likes Fedyor, however, and prefers him to her other guards, she craves this time alone.
Half lost in thought she starts slightly upon the realisation that her feet, left to their own devices, have brought her to the library. It's a room she has longed to explore in depth but has not yet found the opportunity too. Pulling open the heavy mahogany door she takes a deep breath, breathing in the calming scent of old parchment and well cared for leather.
Alina has always loved books and been drawn to libraries. She loves the smell, the peace that pervades these room and the rich stories and knowledge she can lose herself in for hours at a time.
Browsing down the stacks, her eye lands on an incongruous volume that is visibly out of place amongst its larger cousins, who are dressed in deep brown leather with golden gilding down their spines. She pulls the book out, careful fingers running down the battered red cloth cover. This isn't a noble's book but a children's one, and one she knows well: Lore of Old Ravka is taught in all schools across the capital. Indeed, Alina learnt to read using this book and it has remained a firm favourite of hers ever since.
She has scarcely had time to settle herself by the window and crack open the book, however, when the door opens with a bang and Aleksander appears, glancing around her sanctuary with a worried frown. The mystery of his appearance is solved as his eyes alight upon her and a relieved smile spreads across his face, chasing away the dark shadows that had been lurking behind his eyes.
"There you are," he says with a smile as he walks towards her hiding spot, "I might have known you would sneak off here rather than enjoy playing games with the others."
Alina laughs as she nods her agreement, she would much prefer a book any day. That Aleksander recognises this soothes any feathers that may have been ruffled with his discovery of her hiding place.
Sliding to her feet, Alina sets her treasured find on the table as she reaches for the gloved hand stretched out to her entreatingly. That her absence has worried him is clear and it's second nature to want to reassure him that she is safe and well.
"Alinochka," he murmurs hoarsely, eyes full of unspoken emotion as he touches her cheek with two exquisitely gentle fingers, and for the first time Alina wonders if maybe he loves her the way she does him. Embarrassed by such thoughts and his closeness, she looks away, eyes catching on the reflection in the window with a frown as she spots someone being pulled away down the stacks by a man in Heartrender red. Squinting she can just make out that the other is a man wearing dark brown robes, the absence of a kefta catching her off guard and rousing her curiosity, before her attention is recaptured by the man beside her. The man who's hand is shaking where it touches her.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoing down the hall breaks the spell between them and with a lurch Aleksander steps back breathing hard, one hand running through his hair in distress. The silence now is awkward and strained and one Alina has no idea how to broach.
When Aleksander leaves a few moments later, Alina presses a hand to her thundering heart, feeling it flutter faster than a hummingbird's wings within her chest.
Time moves on and slowly Alina settles into a routine. In the morning she is awoken by Genya and the maids at 07:00 sharp. After being hustled through a bath and being made presentable it is then time for breakfast and 08:00, followed by dress fittings and etiquette lessons with Genya. At 10:00 she is escorted by Fedyor along the labyrinthine corridors of the Little Palace to Baghra's cottage where she will spend the next three hours split between verbal fencing and desperately trying to conjure something more than sparks while avoiding the old woman's walking stick. At 13:00 Fedyor returns to escort her to lunch after which she is then escorted to Botkin's training yard for instruction in personal defence and physical combat.
The hours she spends with Botkin are probably her favourite in the day. It is time away from the constant gawping of the other Grisha, time away from the baffling politics of the Little Palace, time away from prying eyes weighing her and finding her wanting, time away from the suffocating expectations that she feels pressing down on her all the time. Perhaps most of all it is time away from Aleksander, time in which she can think without his presence hovering anxiously in the background.
Her mother's advice as ever has proved prescient. Time has indeed helped, as her mama suggested it would. With every conversation, with each morning ride, with every warm look and familiar gesture she feels her confidence increase and her faith rebuild as it reaffirms to her distrustful heart that this is her Aleksander, her best and closest friend. He will not hurt her.
Botkin is a good teacher, patient and encouraging, traits which Alina sorely need as it become clear in the first session just how little she actually knows. It has to be said that for an army, the Tsar's Imperial forces leave a lot to be desired when it comes to training its soldiers to stay alive. Given the high mortality rate she rather suspects that their approach is more akin to win through numbers than any real thought or effort into making the army an efficient fighting force. It irks her. She had felt it at the time, but talking to Botkin she understands just how terrible the training is in First Army and it makes her mad to think of the friends she has lost, will continue to lose, because of the lack of care and attention from their Commander in Chief.
Despite her poor start Alina perseveres and it isn't a total loss. She might be rubbish at fighting with her fists but thanks to her mother and Aleksander she has a surprisingly good foundation for sword fighting and is "competent" – which is high praise from Botkin – in the use of nun chucks and bo staffs. For the first two weeks it is these last three that the kindly instructor focuses on telling her he wishes to get to know her fighting style, to learn how her body wants to move, before deciding on which martial art he will start teaching her.
The practice is soothing and cathartic for her and she finds she enjoys not just her sparing matches with Botkin but in talking to another from Shu Han. It's a comfort for her mother as well. The war with Shu Han has stretched on for so many years that they have seen few others with Shu heritage and Mei-Xing is quick to form a friendship with her daughter's instructor.
Soon though, Botkin declares that it is time to move on to personal defence. Slowly he takes her through the motions, showing her the steps he wants her to follow, the pattern she needs to learn so thoroughly it becomes second nature. Rather than one of the more aggressive forms, Botkin has settled on Judo for Alina. Her small stature means she will find it hard to overpower an opponent through conventional means, but this form concentrates on turning that fact to their advantage. This is harder for Alina than learning to use the weapons, it requires confidence that she lacks to let another near her knowing that she can use their own strength against them, but slowly she grasps the basics.
After 10 days of training, Botkin declares that she is ready to join the group sessions and that from tomorrow she will no longer practice against the instructor but with her peers. It's an announcement that fills her with dread.
The day starts like every other. She is poked and prodded by Genya who tuts over the shadows under eyes as she tailors them away. Breakfast is the same disgusting pickled herring as usual and she makes a mental note to talk to Aleksander about maybe mixing it up with porridge or something so that she doesn't start everyday feeling sick. Then it is off to Baghra to give herself a headache trying to find the trigger for her abilities. With a sigh she plods through the motions, nodding but only half listening as the old woman repeats that this isn't uncommon, and that she will find her own method for calling the light when she is good and ready. The words are reassuring but it does little to quell the nausea that clamps down on her stomach every time she thinks of the fast-approaching Winter Fete which is less than two months off now and the disappointment that will be writ clear across everyone's faces as she shows just how useless she is.
She barely tastes her lunch as she worries over this and what the training session with Botkin will bring. Genya, bless her, tries to cheer her and Fedyor manages to draw a laugh out of her but she is otherwise quiet and withdrawn. The clock when it strikes 14:00 feels like a betrayal and with a sigh she heaves herself from her seat and makes her way to the training yard, her usual anticipation and happiness missing.
With a smile Alina allows Botkin to draw her forward and introduce her to the Squaller. She has seen Zoya before and been amazed by both her poise and her evident control of her abilities. That Aleksander rates her and even suggested her as someone who could help Alina with her current difficulty predisposes her to like the other girl and so, despite her usual reserve and he clawing feeling of inadequacy, she bows respectfully to her new partner, trying to make a good impression.
It doesn't take long to realise that however much in awe of the Squaller she is the feeling is not reciprocated. Zoya's expression is a mix of frustration, distaste and mocking amusement as Alina tries and fails to follow the moves Botkin showed them only a few minutes before. It makes her long for her nun chucks or a bow staff, then she could show Zoya what she can do.
Within 10 minutes of practice Alina no longer has much hope that they will be friends. Her back is going to be black and blue by the end of the two hours and Alina, for the first time, finds herself looking longingly at the clock tower wishing that combat lessons could be shorter. Fed up with being tossed around, she at lasts makes up her mind to change things a bit, bringing in the Judo moves Botkin had showed her last week to help her evade Zoya' attempts at throwing her. While not strictly part of the routine they are practicing at present it helps Alina's confidence enormously that she successfully blocks the other girl's punch, avoids her foot and drops her to one knees after kicking the other. Slightly out of breath, Alina laughs, one hand outstretched to help her partner back to her feet.
It all goes wrong from there.
Behind her she hears people start clapping as Botkin's deep voice rumbles over the noise, explaining the move she had successfully pulled off, but Alina's attention is fixed on Zoya's face which has gone white and pinched. She has only a second's warning before she finds herself being spun and flipped, her back hitting the floor with even more force than before, jarring her aching ribs and making the sky spin for a moment. Tight pressure on her wrists and pain at her sides jolts her back to the present to find Zoya kneeling over her, her knees pressing with bruising force into her hips as the girl's fingers bite into her wrists, pinning them to the ground.
It hurts. Her back is aching, her head throbbing and she hates the feeling of being pinned as it reminds her forcefully of the events not long ago, of another larger body trapping hers against the ground. It's the power of the flash back and the shock which quickly sets in that keeps her still and quiescent, but she can still hear even if moving is currently proving to be a problem, and as she lays there she listens to the poison that drips from Zoya's mouth.
Alina is no stranger to taunts and cruel comments. Growing up half Shu in a country at war with half your heritage makes for uncomfortable situations at times. She'd grown up enduring comments like the Tsarina's and had been further hardened to them by her time in the First Army. She'd learned to live with it and it seldom bothered her now – she knew who she was, knew she that was loved and that had a remarkably insulating effect. Had Zoya stuck to that well-trodden ground things would likely have been okay. Unfortunately, driven by anger and jealousy, the Squaller chose a different tack as her fury lashed out determined to make Alina see that the General was hers.
Such comments would have been unwelcome and impolitic at the best of times. But where before Alina would likely have laughed them away as little more the vituperative ramblings of a jealous girl, secure in her history with Aleksander, now this topic was akin to a field full of landmines and Zoya was stepping on them with unerring accuracy.
Each barbed comment hit Alina, making her heart twist and pound inside her chest, as she struggled to respond, to deny, what Zoya was saying. Aleksander wouldn't… he hadn't… he would have told her if he and Zoya were together. He didn't think of her like that – she was more to him than just the Sun Summoner. He had promised her. Promised that his friendship was true, that he hadn't known she was the long-awaited Sun Saint, that she wasn't useless. But how else would the girl have known about Alina's struggles to access her powers unless he or Baghra had told her and somehow she couldn't see the Squaller dropping by Baghra's cottage for a friendly chat and catchup over tea.
Lies, these had to be lies, and yet they rang true as Zoya, with cruel irony, spat back at Alina all those fears and doubts she had been working so hard to repress and lock away.
Her heart aches. It is too much; all the changes, the secrets, the lies, the hidden agendas that seemed to be around every corner, it's too much. With each twist of the dagger, Zoya chipped away at the faith she held so dear, that has been her bedrock throughout her life, her faith in Aleksander - in the man she loved. Tears sting Alina's eyes as the Squaller digs her nails into her wrists but it's welcome pain, helping to ground her, as with a rasping voice she finally responds.
Zoya laughing at her is another blow, but it's her parting comment about Aleksander that's the final straw
"just you wait," Zoya says, "you'll see, once he has what he wants from you he'll toss you aside and come back to me. We have history he and I."
The comment rings in Alina's ears as she lays there stunned on the ground, watching as Zoya tosses her hair and turns away from her. She sees red.
With a shout she launches herself off the ground to grab the other girl, spinning her round before throwing a textbook perfect punch. In the distant part of the mind not currently controlled by her anger she thinks how pleased Mal would have been to have seen such a hit. The Tracker had spent hours trying to teach Alina how to throw a punch before finally giving it up as impossible. It was good to know that something had obviously sunk in, even if she doubted she would be able to repeat the move again.
Sparing only a brief glance at the girl on the ground, Alina shakes out her hand, before her attention is claimed by Nadia and Marie who rush to congratulate her. The Ice Queen, as Nadia calls her, has few friends at the Little Palace and this is made abundantly clear to Alina as applause breaks out, the other Grisha in the class stamping their feet and clapping their hands as they cheer Alina's win. It is a sour victory though… and horrifying short lived.
She doesn't see Zoya move but she certainly feels it as she is propelled by a wall of air across the courtyard and into the painted wall of the stable block. She hits with a bone cracking thud and slides gracelessly to the ground, head and chest throbbing in tandem. She feels something wet on her face and when she presses gently with shaking fingers, they come away crimson.
For one blessed moment she feels numb, and her mind is wonderfully silent, then with a roar reality returns and with it she realises what the other girl has done. She has broken Botkin's most important rule – no one, not even he, is allowed to use his gift within the training arena, and Zoya didn't just use her powers, she used them on someone she knew was almost powerless. It was unjust. It was despicable. It. Was. Wrong!
Golden fire rages through her veins drowning out every other noise. She exists in a world of gold; her eyes, her skin, her very being glows with a golden light. It flows through her blood, it's in the air she breathes, she is the light and the light is her. High in the sky the sun blazes and she feels it in her soul, talking to her, embracing her.
Shaking, Alina clambers to her feet, heedless of the blood that runs down her face, staining the bright blue of her kefta. Rage unlike anything she has every known lends her body strength as she pushes away the hands trying to help her stand. Eyes fixed on her target she stalks towards the other woman, the whispers in her mind growing louder with each step. She is beyond fury, beyond stopping, beyond remorse for what she is about to do, beyond even humanity, as she summons the light and flings it at her attacker.
Burning hot light streams from her open hand, hitting the still smirking Zoya with agonising force, throwing her off her feet. She lands over 20ft away, screaming, writhing on the ground as the light settles over her like a net.
How Alina makes it to the other girl's side she will later have no recollection, in that one endless moment she is everywhere – both standing where she was and by her defeated opponent. It isn't enough, she realises, as she stares down at the thrashing figure, feeling consciousness start to slip from her grasp. Her chest is aching, the pain growing with each breath, but these are distant concerns. It isn't enough to simply beat Zoya at her own game, to prove her wrong. In that moment she wants to teach the other a lesson she will never forget. It's the last thought in her mind as the familiar darkness descends.