Chapter 21: A Light to Live By

Summary: Tantrums, tea parties and talking. Oh my. In which things come to a head, and Alina and Aleksander finally talk.

It's a truth universally acknowledged that it's much easier to make a resolution than it is to make it happen – as Alina spent the last week finding out. It wasn't for lack of trying either. Aleksander had disappeared. Well, not disappeared, exactly. He was, according to Ivan, exactly where he was supposed to be at any given time, it's just that this seemed to be wherever Alina wasn't.

Either way though, it's frustrating, vexing, and downright annoying. How is she meant to meant to talk to the man if she can't find him. She had briefly considered writing him a letter, but promptly decided that was far too close to the plot to one of those romances Marie loved so much, and besides, there was no guarantee he'd actually read it even if she did write it. Knowing Aleksander, she rather thought he'd put it away somewhere to look at later and then conveniently forget about it for several years. So no, a letter wasn't an option.

Genya had suggested bribing one of the Oprinichki to loan her a uniform so she could sneak in to see him, but that was far too pantomime for Alina's tastes, not to mention it had a high chance of failure, and the last thing she wanted was for Ivan to be the one to discover her subterfuge. The man had only just stopped scowling at her over those ridiculous rumours and she had no desire to return to her former spot of No. 1 annoyance on Ivan's list.

Her mother's advice had been to wait and give the man space. "Do not chase him, my Alina," Mei-Xing had written to her daughter. "If his mother is right and he runs because he feels unworthy of you then he is like a frightened deer. To catch him you must be the skilled hunter who waits until the time is right. A hunter does not chase, they wait for the perfect moment." It's sound advice – as usual from Mei-Xing – and Alina can see the sense in it.

So, for all that her impatience burns bright and fierce within her, she does nothing and merely continues with her normal routine. It's difficult - and likely one of the hardest things she's ever done. She desperately wants to confront Aleksander, to see if they can mend this gulf between them, and yet she stays her hand. It helps that Genya thinks her mother's idea a brilliant one and takes to it with all the gusto and commitment of the righteously outraged.

"Genius," she crowed to Alina after seeing Mei-Xing's letter. "Absolute genius! I've known the General a long time, and the one thing I can say with certainty is that he's not good at being ignored. At the moment he's distracted sorting out all the things he couldn't do while he was off in Caryeva, but that'll change as we head towards the Fete. Make him work for your attention, make him feel dismissed, and I guarantee he'll be begging to talk to you."

Her patience has another benefit though – it gives her and Genya time to perfect The Plan, the one she and the Tailor have been working on for the last few weeks. The plan to deal with the Lantsov's once and for all.

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Time moves on as it always does, and with each day that passes the Winter Festival gets closer and closer. There is buzz of excitement in the Little Palace now, one that seems to grow each day as expectation ramps up among the Senior and Junior grisha alike. For Alina, though, the pressure is like a wave, the tension alternatively receding and then crashing down upon her, as her instructors ramp up her lessons making her practice again and again.

It's all for the display – the grand denouement of the exhibition the grisha are to put on – and her presentation before the assembled dignitaries, ambassadors, nobles and royalty. The criteria is already set - she is to impress, dazzle, amaze and terrify foreigners and fellow Ravkans alike with the power the Tsar has at his command.

She's to be the iron fist in a velvet glove of Ravkan diplomacy.

It annoys her. Frustrates her. She's little more than a performing monkey to these people, and it burns within her that on this occasion she has no choice but to do it. Much needed funding for grisha on the front lines is the punishment if she refuses. If she impresses, though, the Second Army will get the increase in their budget and food will be given to the poor of Os Alta in celebration of her triumph. Winter is always hard in Ravka, but this year's is particularly brutal with low food stocks after another poor harvest, and people are struggling. That their royal family have not yet sought to relieve this suffering in some way both astonishes and sickens Alina. It's another example to her of the greed and depravity of the Lantsov line and just one more reason why they need to be removed.

With all this to think about, it's perhaps forgivable that the Aleksander-dilemma drops down both her priority list and her awareness. It's a mistake though as things come to a head - as they usually do - at the worst possible moment. In the middle of the Tsarina's tea party.

Officially, this is an afternoon meet and greet session for all the newly arrived dignitaries and foreign royalty to be formally introduced and welcomed by Ravka's illustrious rulers. The fact that these people have all been resident in the Imperial Palace for several days and have almost certainly already met the Tsar and Tsarina is beside the point. Never let it be said that the Lantsov's let a little thing like common sense get in the way of a party.

The Tsarina's tea party also marks the official start of the Winter Festival and invitations are fiercely coveted. Alina's arrives two days before cursed event, complete with the usual Lantsov display of pomp and pageantry.

Marie and Nadia almost levitate out of their seats in their excitement, but for Alina, the innocuous card just makes her groan and hit her head on the breakfast table with a hard thump, certain that it heralds another trying day.

She's right.

The morning of the tea party, Genya appears, two Keftas neatly folded over her arm: one in the familiar Etherealki blue, the other an obsidian black with gold embroidery. There's no question it's a stunning garment, and one made with only one wearer in mind.

In a terse voice Alina ask for the blue, barely sparing the black another glance as she pulls it from the Tailor's unresisting grip. She knows a bribe when she sees one, and it leaves a foul taste in her mouth that Aleksander would think her forgiveness so easily bought. Something of her thoughts must be visible on her face as Genya loses her worried frown and smiles beatifically at her choice, a hard glint in her eye as she re-folds the black kefta and takes it away with her.

Clad in the familiar blue, Alina feels the sun warm her as she makes her way across the grounds towards the Imperial Palace

The room she's shown into is not the same as the one she was sat in during that dreadful breakfast. This room is much larger and, if possible, even more ostentatious with its high domed ceiling and gilt trimmings on every surface. In a corner, a string quartet are playing, the tunes of the melody unfamiliar to Alina even as she enjoys the soothing notes. The room is packed with dozens of guests and members of the court, each arrayed in brightly coloured outfits, that seem intent on out vying every other person present. The clash of colours makes Alina's eyes water and long for the sartorial serenity and order of the Little Palace.

Across the room she catches a glimpse of black slinking between the brightly coloured peacocks. Aleksander is here. Of course he is, she rebukes herself sternly. He's the General of the Second Army, of course he received an invitation. It's the first she's seen of him in the ten days since that night in his study and she can't help but observe him now as he circulates, making the gentry and foreign dignitaries laugh and smile. It's an intriguing display, and Alina is captivated by the ease with which he charms and flatters his audience, but beneath it all she can see only too clearly his disquiet. Though she doubts anyone else spots it, Aleksander is not at ease in this crowded room, his back always kept to the wall and his eyes always on the nearest exit. It makes a prickle of unease run down her back. They are two grisha alone in a room full of ostkazat'syas – potentially hostile ones at that - and she can see how it wears on him and unnerves him.

It's an intriguing insight into a complicated man, but before she can think much more on it her attention is claimed by Countess Belosselsky-Belozersky. Gabrielle is delighted to see her new friend again, and she chatters on quite happily for some time without seeming to realise either Alina's disinterest or her wandering attention. In the few moments spent catching up with the other young woman, Aleksander has vanished again. It's a vexing discovery, and one that make her unusually inattentive to her nattering friend.

Suppressing a sigh, Alina draws her friend's attention to the music. Gabrielle's effusions provide a welcome distraction, and she smiles for the first time since she entered this dratted room, but all too soon a servant appears with a bow and a message for the Countess. "You are wanted, Countess Belosselsky-Belozersky," he murmurs quietly, nodding towards where an older man is watching them with a dark glare, and Alina watches with concern as her friend pales slightly, before bowing her head in the direction of the strange man.

"My betrothed," she explains as she turns to press Alina's hands warmly. "Or my future betrothed, anyway."

"Your future betrothed?" Alina can't help but query in confusion.

Gabrielle's smile is wan now, her pale blue eyes dark with emotion. "My parents are seeking a suitable match for me," she says softly. "Duke Vastinov is a distant cousin of the Tsar. The connection to both the Tsar and Tsarina will secure my family's place in court for a generation."

"You don't look happy," Alina observes quietly.

Her friend shakes her blonde head. "It's not my place to be happy or not. It's a grand match, and my parents wish it."

"But what about you?"

Gabrielle laughs. "Oh, my dear Sun Summoner. You can see you were not raised at court." She sighs deeply, eyes troubled. "I must go. It wouldn't do to keep the Duke waiting," and she turns preparing to walk away.

Worried, Alina grabs her hand, pulling her back to face her. "You should have a choice," she whispers desperately at the other girl, but Gabrielle just shakes her head. "We can't all be a saint, Alina," she murmurs softly. "This is just the way things are done. My marriage will secure the place of my family in court and allow my brother to marry higher than he would otherwise be able. Still, I am glad that this is not your fate." And with those last parting words, Gabrielle is gone, and all Alina can do is watch the couple's reunion worriedly. The Duke is not a handsome man, with the same small, watery eyes as the Tsar, but there is a cold, calculating expression on his face that she cannot like, and it sends chills down her spine as she observes the proprietary, yet dismissive, way he treats the young woman next to him as if she is a possession he has no wish to share and yet cares little about.

There is an old saying in Shu Han, that if you want to know what the gods think about money, just look at who they give it to. Standing next to her future husband, the Countess looks miserable, and Alina can't help but think that all the money in the world would not be compensation enough for her to resign herself to such a marriage. It's a sobering thought and one that turns her stomach. It isn't fair.

After the loss of her friend, Alina is left at a loose end. The room is full to the brim with people, and yet she knows no-one and so far no one seems interested in talking to her. She feel untethered and adrift amidst the opulence and finery of the court, and for the first time she wishes she had worn the black kefta. Her blue had seemed good enough that morning, but now surrounded by silks, satins, velvets and taffetas, she feels underdressed and out of place. She still would have stood out in the black kefta, but it would have been less of a gap to have to have been clothed in the costly black silk, decorated in beautiful beads and gold embroidery.

Unsettled, she looks for her new fair-haired friend amongst the preening peacocks of the court, but although there are a multitude of blondes present, they are none of them the right one. With a sigh, she turns her attention back to the mob of twittering ladies who have congregated near her. She had hoped her new friend would be at the party, she could use some of his dry, sardonic humour and plain speaking right about now. If she has to listen to one more detailed conversation about court fashion she might scream… or throw herself off the balcony, it really could go either way at this point.

Ten minutes later, though, she's longing for a return to talking about lace as group's attention is caught by the sight of the Crown Prince moving towards them. There is a purposeful set to Vasily's vacuous features which makes Alina's heart sink, even as the ladies around her giggle excitedly and flutter their fans, in what they clearly think is an alluring way.

The prince's bow is perfunctory, as is the way he bends to kiss each of the hands thrust towards him by the over eager ladies around her. Towards the back of the group, and partly concealed behind their large, colourful court dresses, Alina turns to stare at a conveniently placed potted plant in the hope that Vasily will somehow miss her presence, and she will be left alone. If presented with the choice of endless discussion of lace or spending time with the Crown Prince, Alina's knows which she would choose in a heartbeat.

Luck clearly isn't with this day, however, as no sooner has she started sidling away from the throng then she feels Vasily's oily stare land on her with the pointed concentration of a dog who has spotted a particularly juicy bone.

"Ahh," the prince breathes. "Moya Solnishka, there you are. I was wondering where you were hiding."

The implication that she was hiding makes her bristle – partly because there's some truth in it – but what makes her eyes flash gold with anger is him calling her his Solnishka. She isn't his, will never be his, and it rankles her to hear him lay claim to her in such a public way, but underneath that is another layer of anger, this one ignited by his appropriation of a name only Fedyor has called her before now. Said in that vaguely mocking voice of his, solnishka has ceased to be the endearment her friend meant and instead takes on a different meaning altogether.

With the deftness born of years of practice, Vasily manoeuvrers them away from the safety of the group to a quiet alcove on the edge of the room. It's still public enough not to concern Alina very much, but it still sets her on edge, Genya's warnings swimming in her ears.

Around them there is a humdrum of a hundred conversations taking place, the clatter of plates and glasses as servants make their rounds, ensuring the great and the good never run out of food or drink. It's white noise to her, all her attention – all her focus – is on the man beside her. The man exuding a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

The peace of the moment doesn't last long, as Alina feels with a jolt of shock the prince's hand slide from where it had been resting innocently, if proprietorially, on her elbow to the dip in spine, before travelling to caress her tailbone; his questing fingers barrelling across the line of inappropriate to indecent in the time it takes her to blink. She freezes, as in the quiet she feels the gentle pants of his breath brushing her neck.

The hand gets braver and more forward. Her body tenses, no longer frozen in shock, but tense like a predator about to strike. Not that the foolish man next to her notices.

"Please remove your hand, your highness," Alina says conversationally, a tense smile fixed on her face as she recalls the very public nature of their location.

Vasily smiles, "and why would I do that dearest. It's quite happy where it is." He gives her a little stroke.

Alina's eyes flash gold with anger. "Either you remove it, or I will - and I don't think you'll like my method." A tendril of light wraps around the Tsarevitch's wrist, the searing heat a warning. She is very aware of both the public setting and the interest a scene will cause. More than that, though, she's just spotted that Aleksander is less than 20 feet away. The Shadow Summoner is currently distracted by an enquiry from a tiresome looking old man sporting an enormous moustache, an even more enormous belly and a monocle. Such a distraction, however, won't last long and if there's any hope of avoiding a diplomatic incident that will torpedo The Plan, she needs to sort the situation now.

The crown prince laughs, but at least he moves his hand. Alina is just breathing a sigh of relief when she feels it slip lower, curving and cupping her bottom. She would like to say that the elbow that finds its way into the Tsarevitch's solar plexus was entirely deliberate and part of her well-considered strategy, but that would be a lie. Feeling Vasily's fingers touch her so intimately has Alina reacting purely on instinct as she pulls back her arm and drives it into the soft torso behind her. The resulting gagging sound and raspy breathing are as rewarding as her sudden freedom from being groped, and for one glorious second Alina almost laughs with jubilation. Then her eyes find Aleksander's and her joy dies a swift and painful death.

Because Aleksander is watching. He's watching and there's murder in his eyes. Next to him the tedious be-monocled man is still wittering on, apparently unaware that he has well and truly lost his audience's attention, or the danger he is in as the General almost vibrates with protective fury, and Alina can tell it's only through sheer force of will that his shadows have not yet manifested. Eyes black and seething, it's the Darkling that steps forward, all leonine and lethal grace, shadows gathering around his hands as his gaze remains locked on his quarry, and Alina knows that blood is about to be spilt.

Beside her, the prince is still spluttering, blissfully unaware of the danger he has landed himself in, but it gives her an idea. It's the work of a second for Alina to feign concern and summon one of the many servants to bring the Crown Prince a glass of wine, while she laments loudly that prince has swallowed a fly. Around them, the hubbub increases as concerned courtiers all start pushing each other so that they can be the one to offer the prince assistance.

The furore gives Alina the cover she needs, and lightning fast she ducks between two hooped skirts to grab Aleksander's wrist, halting his progress through the crowd. Glancing down at his hands, she's relieved to see the gathering shadows dissolve into nothingness as his attention shifts from the prince to her.

"We need to talk", she mutters darkly, eyes flashing - daring him to defy her - and with her hand wrapped around his with an iron grip, she proceeds to tug him out of the room.

They must make for an odd sight, she thinks, as she stalks down the path leading to the Little Palace, through the vestibule doors, and down the twisting corridors towards his suite - the Sun Summoner towing the feared Darkling to his rooms like a recalcitrant child. In front of her, the guards on duty salute sharply even as they move out of her way, and then they're inside and the door is shut and locked, and she feels her breath whoosh out of her in relief.

Her relief lasts about as long as it takes for reality to sink in and then she feels cold, icy and frozen for a different reason. Aleksander nearly… he was going too… what in all the saint's blessed names had he been thinking. He'd nearly undone years – decades – of work. In one fell swoop he would have not just destroyed but eradicated all he'd achieved in making grisha accepted in Ravka, of giving them a safe haven. Their people would never be safe again if he'd succeeded. They would be reviled, hated, driven out. It would be a fast ticket back to the dark days before grisha gained even the limited acceptance they have now.

And it would have been his fault.

It's a thought that makes her furious, and she feels the fear burn inside her.

"What was that?" she demands fiercely, but her anger only seems to reignite his own, as Aleksander growls, "what was what."

"That," she waves an expressive hand in the general direction of the Imperial Palace, "back there, during the tea party. What was that?"

His eyes darken, shadows swirling around his hands, and his expression is grim as he remarks. "You shouldn't have stopped me, Alina."

"What. Was. That." She growls back, ire punctuating each word.

"You know what that was," his eyes gleam with anger and darkness.

"You-you idiot!" Alina shrieks. "What on earth we're you thinking. Or weren't you. You can't go around killing members of the royal family in public."

"So it would have been fine in private then?" he laughs darkly. "My, my, Alina. You are full of surprises."

"No. But at least you'd stand less chance of being caught and executed for regicide and treason. Don't you realise what you nearly did – what it would have meant?" It's almost a plea by the end, and Alina kneads her forehead tiredly, her adrenalin rush rapidly fading and leaving her feeling exhausted.

Before her, Aleksander stands, a quizzical look on his face and Alina realises with a sickening blow that no, he doesn't. He really doesn't get it, he doesn't see. Her fingers pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Aleks," she begins gently, "you're an idiot." The affronted expression is nearly enough to make her laugh, but the seriousness of what she's about to say is as sobering as a knife in the gut. She shakes her head, "no, you are. Look, listen to me. Just… just listen," she adds when it seems like he is about to interrupt. "You nearly destroyed everything. If you'd succeeded in killing Vasily, what do you think would have happened? The Tsar would have come after you. The ruling families, they'd have come after you. But they wouldn't just stop there." And it wouldn't, she can see it all so clearly in her minds eye, the fighting, the bloodshed, the slaughter. They would be straight back to the dark days when anyone suspected of being grisha, or of helping them, were hunted and murdered on mass.

Her eyes are sad and glassy with the tears that choke her as she says, "it wouldn't matter if us grisha sided with you or not, there would be civil war. We'd all be tarred with the same brush, guilty by association, and they'd come after us to get at you. How many would have died, Aleks. How many would have perished if you had succeeded."

Aleksander is frozen, his mouth open, as if he had been about to speak. The inky wisps around his hands have vanished, and Alina can see the pain as realisation hits him with all the force of a sledgehammer.

"Alina… you were… he was…"

"No!" Aleksander looks shocked at her barked interruption. "Don't you dare put this one me. This one is on you, Aleksander. All. On. You. You know what I think? I think that you're afraid. Terribly, horribly, nightmarishly afraid. That's what all this" she gestures between them, "is really about. "

As she speaks, her thoughts are forming, coalescing in her mind. The moment has come, the clock's run down. She's out of time. It's an odd thing, she's spent over a week impatient and desperate for this moment, and yet now it's come her hands are sweaty, her stomach in knots and she'd really much rather put it off for a while longer.

She catches sight of them in the window, they look like adversaries; blue against black and she realises that this has all the makings of a tragic love story - one in which love turns to hate, and those who should have been united are instead divided and left to fight on opposite sides. It reminds her of the current book Marie and Nadia are obsessed over instead of concentrating on their classwork: a story about two people driven apart by manipulation, lies, distrust and sordid secrets.

Well, she won't let it. This only become one of those stories if they allow it to be, and Alina won't. This is her line in the sand, this far and no further.

When she looks up, it's to the sight of Aleksander glaring at her, eyes blazing with swirling emotion. "And what would you have had me do?" he demands defensively, his tone cutting and derisive, "just stand there and let that lecherous cumberground paw at you?"

"Maybe I liked it. Maybe I wanted his attention. Ever think of that?" Alina hisses, outrage and embarrassment making her cruel.

Aleksander reeled back as if struck. "You can't mean… you wanted it?"

Anger cooling at the look of pained befuddlement on his face, Alina shrugs, cheeks pink with awkwardness. "Well, no," she concedes. "But that's not the point." She levels a quelling glare at the man. "The point is I was managing it. I didn't need you charging in on your white horse to save me and nearly decapitate the Crown Prince at a tea party."

"I was trying to protect you," he howls, pain and fury, frustration and impotent rage echoing in his words. "You have no idea, Alina. None! You have no conception of the vipers nest you've walked into. You're such an innocent. You think what that cankerous scrotum did was bad, but you have no idea what the Lantsovs' are capable of, the depravity, the wickedness."

Alina shakes her head firmly, "You think so, do you? That might have been true once, but things changed. Have you forgotten I was in the First Army for over a year? I know what men are like, Aleksander, but more to the point - you haven't been here for over a month, a lot has happened. I know a lot more about the Lantsovs now and their predictions," she takes no pleasure in the way Aleksander pales, nor the haunted expression that creeps into his eyes, but he needs to know and understand. This is too important to let go or for her to soften her blows.

"I know what that fat pig of a Tsar does to Genya, and I know that the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree in his simpering son. The point is, I was handling it. But instead of trusting that I could get myself out of the situation you went all, all," she struggles to find the right word, "mannish and decided to I needed to be protected. Not only was it totally unnecessary, but you nearly created a diplomatic incident that would have spelt disaster for our people."

The man before her is but a shadow of the Aleksander she has known her whole life. There is a defeated set to his shoulders and there are tears in his eyes as he looks at her beseechingly, "I was trying to protect you. All I have done I have done for you, to protect you, to save you, to keep you safe."

Aline shakes her head, a sad smile flitting across her face. "Then you still don't understand,"

"Understand what?"

"That I don't need you to be my white knight. I don't need a protector, Aleks."

"Then what do you need." He asks hoarsely, his desperation clear.

She shakes her head again. "I don't need anything anymore. I'm not that frightened child who used to hide behind your cloak expecting you to save me. I've grown up."

Pain explodes in his eyes at her pronouncement, a look of such raw desolation that she is powerless to resist as her hand reaches forward to clasp his own.

"I don't need a protector," she reiterates gently, urging his eyes to meet hers. "What I want is a friend, an equal. Someone to stand beside me, to help me when I falter, to show me when I'm making a mistake, to hold my hand when I'm afraid - not because I'm weak but because we're stronger together."

"I do see you are my equal," he argues desperately. "You alone are my equal, as I've said to you countless times."

Once, perhaps, such a declaration would have been enough to calm Alina, but not now. "No, we're not," she replies sadly. "You think we are, but you won't let me be, not really. I'm not your equal because you don't trust me enough to let me."

"That's not true!"

Alina smiles sadly, but her voice is firm as she says, "yes it is. Oh, you trust me more than you many others, of that I'm sure, but when the chips are down you don't trust me, not really, because trust requires faith, and you are the most risk averse man I know when it comes to yourself. You are so afraid of being alone, and yet you push people away, never wanting them to get near because then you might be proved right that they will leave you. It's easier to keep everyone at arm's length, and that's why you rejected me in this very room."

"Not this again, Alina," he sounds exhausted as if the fight has gone out of him and left behind this tired, resigned shell of a man. "There is no future for you and I, no happy ending. You say you love me now, but you don't know…" he broke off. "There is no good outcome of this, milaya. I've lived a long time, I've seen more relationships end in blood and tears than I can count and I want more for you. I want a life of safety, of children and growing old. Of happiness. All things I can't give you." He brushes his fingers along her cheek, eyes dark with pain. "Let me do this for you, please."

It's a telling speech, and his words firm Alina's resolve at the confirmation of everything she's suspected. In her mind the sun sings, bathing her in warmth and giving her the strength to plough on. Her hand raises to grip Aleksander fingers, pulling it to rest against her heart in the hope that he can feel how steady and sure it is.

"You send me away because you believe you don't deserve to be loved, because you fear who you are, and you're terrified that I won't love you if I know. But I know you, Aleksander, all of you - the bad bits, the ugly secrets you have carried for so long, and the goodness I know you don't believe you have anymore. I see it all."

Aleksander looks away, head ducked and eyes on the floor as he says to the carpet, "you can't, Alina - you don't know… you think you do, but you don't. You have no idea who I truly am, the things I've done are beyond forgiveness."

Alina grips his hand tighter. "Like what?" It's less a question and more a demand.

Aleksander steels himself. This is the right thing he reminds his aching heart, this is the right thing to do. His precious girl is too pure and gentle to be shackled to him. She needs to see the monster that resides behind his handsome features.

"I've lied, Alina. Lied and manipulated to get my own way, I seduced countless women to my bed over the years - so many I've lost count and can barely even remember their faces." His eyes meet the distinctly unimpressed gaze of the Sun Summoner." Swallowing, he continues, "I've killed - murdered - so many that my hands are drenched in blood."

"I already knew all that," Alina remarks, unmoved. "Your modern history lessons were always very thorough. I've never been under any illusions about either factor, Aleksander, and you've clearly forgotten that I grew up in Os Alta if you thought I would be ignorant of the fact that men like you take lovers."

Aleksander clenches his teeth and looks away, seceding victory in their impromptu staring competition to Alina. He had hoped that would be enough to send his precious girl away, but as usual she is a continual surprise to him.

"Stop this, Alina," he begs at last, "I'm trying to do the right thing and honour the promise I made to your mother. I can't give you what you want."

"And what do you think that is?" Alina replies, head tilted thoughtfully to one side as she files the mention of a promise away for later consideration.

"Family, a home, a life free of danger," he waves an expressive hand, "all the things women usually want."

But instead of looking aghast or even upset, Alina just laughs. "Who said I want any of that?" she queries, a triumphant smile on her face. "But let's take this one point at a time. Home is where the people you love are, its not a building, or a place, to me. So long as you're there, I'll be home. So we can knock that one off your list." She grins. "As for a life free of danger, I don't think anyone can offer me that. Not now that I've been outed as the one and only Sun Summoner. So you can cross that one off as well. Now for children…" she trails off and shoots an expectant look at Aleksander, who sighs.

"I've lived a long, Alina, a very long time. All those years and all those lovers and I have never fathered a child." Not for lack of trying at one time, either. It's a grief that's faded over the centuries, but the ache is still there. He and Luda had been desperate to start a family, they had hoped that even though Luda would not be able to stay with him throughout the long years of immortality, that they would have a child who would. Ten years they had tried before Luda had been taken from him. Ten years. Surely it would have happened then if it was possible.

Alina watches him thoughtfully. "And that makes you think you can't?" Aleksander nods, and Alina lets out a sigh of relief at having a simple problem. "Have I ever said I wanted children?" She asks, rocking back on her heels as she enjoys watching the shock spread across his face.

"But you're…" he starts only for Alina to interrupt him.

"The answer is not particularly, but the bigger point is that this should be my decision whether I'm willing to give this up, not yours. This isn't your decision to make, Aleks. But come, let's hear your next reason."

Her blithe responses throw him. All his thoughts and fears rationally discussed and dismissed as no more that wisps of fog in the face of Alina's determination. There's only one reason left now. Just one. The worst one. The one he hoped never to have to tell her. He had wanted to avoid this, longed for it, actually. His worst sin and the one that will drive her from him forever.

He turns from her, ripping his hand from hers as he paces to lean over his desk, back towards her, trying to gather both his whirling thoughts and his fleeing courage.

"Aleks," Alina's query is a soft murmur behind him, but it's enough to send him over the edge.

Anguish and anxiety combine, and the truth bursts out of him. "For saints sake, Alina, I'm the Black heretic. Me! I created the Fold, I used Merzost to create that perversion of nature and I gloried in the destruction and death." There's a sharp intake of breath from his companion and he falls silent, unable to look lest he sees the utter loathing he knows he will be there if he raises his head.

In the stillness of the room there is only the sound of their breathing, and for a long moment that is all he hears, then he hears the footsteps. His shoulders drop and his hands cover his face, his eyes burning. But instead of fading away into the distance, instead of the click of the door, the footsteps get louder until suddenly they are beside him and he feels a gentle hand rest upon his shoulder.

"I know," is all Alina says, her voice calm and unsurprised. "I know exactly who you are Aleksander Morozova, and I grieve for the pain you have suffered these long years alone, but you're not alone anymore, Aleks, I'm here - and I'm never going to leave you."

"Alina…" it's barely more than a whisper, but she hears him anyway.

"I love you, Aleks. I have loved you for years."

"But… but you can't." It's a desperate plea. "I'm a monster, Alina. The monster, in point of fact. The one little children still cry themselves to sleep over, the one that can send whole armies running in the opposite direction at just the mention of his name. I'm the bogeyman, the heretic who rebelled against his Tsar and called into being a living death trap that tore his country in two."

His chest is heaving by the time he finished his impassioned argument. She cannot love him – it's a shade, a figment his Alinochka loves, not him and he has to make her understand that, has to make her see him for the monster his truly is. Not the prince of the fairy tale but the beast.

"You think that's the worst of it, but it isn't. It's just the start. I've murdered, lied, manipulated. I've used people with no care as to the consequences for them. I've spent centuries planning what I'd do when the Sun Summoner was finally found, how I'd manipulate them, seduce them so that they'd be under my – and only my – control." His eyes are hollow when they find hers, "I planned to trap you. I was going to have a Durast make you an amplifier collar out of bone and place it around your neck, binding you to me and putting your power under my control for eternity." The words rush out of him in a torrent, as if once pierced, the dam of his secrets has given way entirely. "I would have used you as I saw fit and there would have been nothing you could have done to stop me. Now tell me you still love me."

There is silence, then: "Me, me, or abstract me," Alina asks curiously.

"Is there a difference?" he asks, voice low and defeated.

Alina shrugs, a shrewd glint in her eye. "Quite a big one, I'd think."

He glances at her and shakes his head. "Not you. Never you, Alina."

Alina hums. "Then it was an abstract Sun Summoner you planned to do this too. Someone you didn't know, didn't care about. Someone who could be made into the weapon you want."

Aleksander nods.

Anger surges through her at his admission. Yes, there is a difference. One that plays a pretty important part in whether she can stay here in the Little Palace. Had Aleksander answered any differently, he would have been right, she'd have had to leave. She couldn't let another person control her sun, not even Aleksander. But it reaffirms something else as well though, how important – how vital – it is that Aleksander has an equal, someone who can stop from going too far. That's what her dreams have been showing her. They balance each other, but more than that, they are the only ones who have a hope of stopping the other. Whatever becomes of their relationship in the future, whether she can get through to him or not, this simple truth stands.

"Do you see now, Alina?" the question jolts her out of her thoughts, and confused she raises an enquiring eyebrow. Aleksander gives her a small, resigned smile. "You see it now," he says gently, "the monster I am. You don't love me. You love a shade, a phantom, who never existed."

He steps toward her, "I don't deserve your love. I know this will hurt you – and it pains me to do so – but it'll fade. What you feel now will fade with time, dearest one, and then you'll be free to live the life you deserve."

Frustrated, Alina whirls away from him, her boots thumping the floor in her annoyance. "Enough of this, Aleksander," she shouts, sparks glittering along her skin in her anger. "You must think me a child, an ignorant and naive one at that, to believe I'll just go along with what you're saying. You think I don't understand the darkness inside you, but I do. You think to scare me away by telling me these things but you're wrong. I already know these sins, I know why and how the Fold was created. I know the depth of the old Tsar's betrayal. I know he promised safety for grisha in return for you fighting his war with Shu Han only to renege and try to kill you, murdering hundreds of grisha in the process. I know you called upon Merzost in desperation and that what was made wasn't what you intended. I know!"

A tear slides down his cheek as Aleksander is frozen in place by the fierceness of Alina's stare. Her voice softens, "I know all this, Aleks, I know and it doesn't change anything. You say you're a monster, but you're not - you're a man who has been placed in an intolerable position, one who has made mistakes that you've paid and paid for, one who has done terrible things out of a desperate need to protect your people, but it doesn't make you evil. Vasily and his ogre of a father are evil - they take what they want never considering the harm they cause in doing so, and worse not caring because to them other people are meaningless, valueless, disposable."

"Yes, what you planned to do to the Sun Summoner was despicable and wrong, but there's a big difference between thinking about something and actually doing it. Planning something doesn't make you guilty of doing it. You turned away from that, you realised it was wrong and have sought to make amends, to become someone else. That's the difference." It's a vital difference to Alina's mind. The difference between condemnation and redemption. The proof that despite his avowals to the contrary, he is still her Aleks – the man she has grown up with, the man she knows, and she understands now in a way she didn't before what Baghra had meant when she referred to the dark path he had been walking.

She approaches him cautiously, like she would a frightened animal. There is something feverish and wild and about him, as if he has been pushed too far and is about to fall off the cliff edge. "You think you're the villain of this piece, but you're wrong. So very wrong. The only person intent on making you out to be the villain is you. Not me. Not Genya. Not Mama. Not Botkin. Not even your mother. None of the people who matter see you like this."

"Do you regret what you planned, Aleks?" Alina asks, full of compassion as she tries to make him see.

He stares, aghast and full of horror, "of course I do, Alina. It makes me sick to think of what I might have done to you. I'd rather die a thousand deaths torn apart by volcra than bring you harm." There's a sincerity in his voice, as if all the lies and obfuscations have been pulled away and all that's left is truth. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret… that I don't wish…"

"Then I forgive you." The words are like a benediction to his bruised heart and a dagger in his gut at the same time, but Alina isn't finished.

"It's my choice who I love, Aleksander - not yours, not the Tsars, not the people of Ravkas. It's my choice to whom I give my heart and mine alone." Her expression changes, the softness of a moment ago gone as steely resolution takes its place and Aleksander can't help the panic that thrums through him as he sees her beloved eyes glow golden in the lamp light.

"Alina," he tries but is silenced at her look as she steps closer. Warmth is radiating from where her hand rests against his forearm and for a moment Aleksander thinks it's her sun which is the cause of the warm glow igniting his blood, but such a thought is quickly dismissed, lost in the recesses of his mind as his eyes meet hers and are caught by the boundless emotion he can see within. It's like fire is racing through his veins as she closes the scant distance remaining between them to whisper in his ear. "And I choose you."

She steps back, and the distance is like a physical loss. "But if the last few days have showed me anything, its that things need to change."

The pain in his eyes is almost unbearable, his defences stripped bare and raised to the ground, but Alina can't stop now, it's too important that he understand, that they renegotiate their relationship to an equal footing -one of honesty and trust - no matter the pain it causes them both.

With this thought, she grips his hand tighter, willing his brilliant mind to understand what she's trying to tell him. "I don't need you, but I do want you as my equal, my most trusted, best beloved friend, my match. I want to be true and equal partners, Aleks, but that needs trust on both sides. There is no equality if there's no trust. You need to trust that I can look after myself, that I can make my own decisions, that I can fall and pick myself up again."

"And what if you can't?" Aleksander cries, "what if you fall too far and you can't get back up? What then - am I supposed to stand by, powerless to help?"

Alina shakes her head, a smile lighting up her face. "Then you trust that I will know when ask for help. Of course, if I'm kidnapped by a hoard of marauding dragons then feel free to come to my rescue - that's the time for a knight in shining armour," she laughs as she waves an expressive hand. "I'm not asking you not to come to my aid if I'm in dire need. I'm asking you to let me fight my own battles. I want to be your equal, Aleks, but you keep trying to shield me like I'm still that 5 year old girl you first met, and I'm not. I'm an adult, an experienced medic and a fairly powerful grisha. What I want is to stand by your side and help you fight our battles – for you to trust me to make my own decisions and respect what I say. If you can't trust me then this, whatever this is or becomes," she waves a hand between them, "will never work." She looks away, tears springing to her eyes. "and then you really will lose me."

"I know it'll be hard; you're used to being alone and in solely in control, of being obeyed, and I know how hard this will be, but there's no other way. You need someone to stop you before you go too far, someone to balance you, someone to rely on so it isn't just you making decisions. You say I'm your match, your equal, so let me be that person. Let me be your equal."

A silvery tear slides down Aleksander's face. His eyes are haunted with a fathomless pain when they lock with hers. The last half an hour has easily been one of the worst in recent memory. Each and every one of her charges hitting with the precision and force of a rifle shot. Shame burns within him - shame, guilt, pain and remorse - it's a potent, choking mix.

His mind - that traitorous entity - reminds him how desperately he has wanted an equal over the centuries, someone with whom to share the burdens he carries, someone he can turn to and who he knows will never turn away. He's been alone, so alone, for so long, at the top of the social structure he has forgotten what it means to have an equal, to have someone who can help him, who he can talk too, who can understand the knife edge he spends most of his life tap dancing on. It's been his desperate wish for centuries; the comforting thought that has kept him warm during long winter nights, kept him company when the loneliness and sense of isolation was at its most crippling, it's the thought that has kept him going, no matter how hard or dark or gruelling the battle.

He thinks of Alina's points, her courage - always so much greater than his own - in raising and confronting these issues, and nods. A single jerk of the head, but it's enough for Alina who throws her arms around him, her lips pressing against his cheek in her fervent delight.

"Alina, I've been alone for a very long time," Aleksander cautions softly.

"Yes," Alina agreed, just as softly, "I know," she leans back to meet his eyes, a grin lighting up her features, "and that means you've developed some very bad habits. Lucky for you I'm the patient sort."

"Alina," he murmurs brokenly, as he pulls her back into the circle of his arms. "My light to live by."

Wrapped in his desperate embrace, he feels Alina's wet laugh, "then let me show you the way."

Change is always hard - and especially for a near immortal - but this is Alina and he'd move the stars for her if she asked. There is nothing he would not do for her, nothing he will not try, even this, though it goes against his every instinct. She is the light he lives by and, perhaps, in time he can become the man worthy of her. The man she believes him to be.

A/N I'm almost too scared to ask what you think, but I will anyway. FYI a cumberground was a 15/16th century word for a particularly stupid, useless and obsolete individual who's only purpose in life is to take up space. I love words – particularly old words – and this one was just too good to not use here. Solnishka is a term of endearment usually used to mean someone is a dreamer or idealist. Fedyor obviously means it is an affectionate way when he calls Alina this, but for Vasily its more a derogatory term.

Next up: As the World Falls Down.

We finally get to the Winter fete (not to be confused with the winter ball which will be in chapter 23), an unexpected visitor arrives, Alina shows off and a winter picnic is arranged.