I woke up to a throbbing pain in my head. "Saints," I murmured, cradling my temples with my hands. I opened my eyes, only to be assaulted by the harsh rays of sunlight flooding the room. Of course. Of all the days, it has to be sunny today.

Damn branvinn! How much did I drink? Wait. How much did I say?

I groaned, burying my face in the pillow as the events of last night came rushing back. The Darkling's kind eyes, his understanding words, his warm touch... and my never-ending blabbering. The embarrassment hit me like a wave.

Facing him today was the last thing I wanted to do. I'd let him see me so bare, so... weak. And now I had to spend another day in the confined space of his coach. My eyes wandered to the open window. Maybe I could just sneak out and get lost in the city, never to see him again.

I smiled at the idea, but I knew I could never leave. I enjoyed learning more about my powers too much. And despite how intimidating he was, and despite how hard it was to admit to myself… I truly enjoyed Darkling's company. There was a strange aura of dark secrets surrounding him and yet his presence made me feel so safe. I loved seeing the unexpected tenderness in him that flashed through his usually stern demeanour when we talked. But most of all, it was the respect in his eyes when he looked at me. That was the biggest novelty. I had never felt respected by any man before, certainly not in Fjerda. The feeling that I am enough to be respected, however flawed I might be.

I stared at the black ceiling above my head, wondering if he'd still respect me after seeing me in such a state. Wait. Why is the ceiling black? I sat up abruptly, wincing as the pain in my head intensified. Was my room not… blue?

Fuck. Not only was my room blue, it was also significantly smaller than this one and it certainly didn't have the eclipse carved into the headboard! No, no, no. Oh Saints, no.

"Faen!" I cursed, realising where I was. To my overwhelming relief (and a slight hint of disappointment that I scolded myself for immediately), the other side of the bed remained untouched.

A sharp knock interrupted the mounting panic in my stomach. "Yes?" I responded, my eyes widening as a young man in a crimson Heartrender kefta entered the room. I didn't know his name, but he was always close to the Darkling and Ivan.

"Good morning!" he trilled, his smile brighter than the hostile sunshine outside. "How was your…" he frowned, stopping abruptly as he stretched his hands toward me, making a complicated gesture. "Easy there, your heartbeat is all over the place," he laughed lightly. I could feel my heart slowing down, a calm feeling washing over me.

"Whoa..." I breathed out. "I didn't know you could do that."

"We can do more than just stop hearts," he winked. "Fedyor Kaminski, at your service." He gave a silly little bow that made me giggle. "The General sent me to tend to you. He worried the Healers might spread... unnecessary gossip," he said with a meaningful look. "He expected you to have a headache for some reason, is that right?" He asked with an innocent smile.

"The Darkling told you… I had a headache?" I asked confusedly.

"Educated guess, I presume. After all, he had a headache himself. Too much liquor, apparently. So… do you want me to help you or not?"

I managed a slight nod and got up to sit on the edge of the bed as he approached me, his hands lifting to hover over my head.

He sent me a Healer. If I weren't so embarrassed and furious with myself, I might have laughed. A sigh of relief escaped me as the pain faded away.

"Better?" he chuckled at my blissful grimace. Then I heard another knock. "Ah, that will be your breakfast," he smiled, walking to the door and taking a tray of food from a servant's hands, placing it on the bedside table next to a wooden clock. "Or should I say, lunch?" he chuckled. I squinted at the dial and froze.

"Saints! It's afternoon already! We were supposed to be leaving at dawn!" "Hey, what did I tell you about the heart attacks!" Fedyor's hands touched me, and my heartbeat returned to normal. "The plan changed. The Darkling rode to Uyezd, he wanted to look something up. Ravka's biggest archive is over there, and he has some work to do," he explained.

I nodded with a weak smile before I laid my head in my palms again.

"Do you still have the headache?" he frowned and reached for my head.

"No, no… the head is fine, thank you. But no amount of magic can cure my embarrassment."

"Not magic," he lifted his finger. "Science. We are no witches, no matter what your Fjerdan friends might believe," he said with a wink. I liked him. He made me feel so at ease I almost forgot how weird the situation we were in was.

"Drinking with the Darkling is certainly… bold," he said. "But if it helps, when he mentioned you, he really said you can hold your liquor. He actually seemed to be quite impressed," he added with a hearty laugh.

"I'm not sure I should be proud of that," I managed a grateful smile. "But it does help a little bit, thank you." Thank Saints the Darkling sent me Fedyor and not Ivan. "By the way, I'm only here because..."

"No need to explain anything," he shook his head. "I don't need to know. And don't worry, I keep the Darkling's secrets religiously. Not that it would help," he chuckled. "Everybody's talking about you two anyway. Hard to blame them, I guess. Two shadow summoners that spend a lot of time together… people will always talk."

"Yeah, I am aware of that," I sighed.

"Don't worry. We left the most chatty ones behind in the Little Palace. Now you're among the Second army. We are all a bit older and a lot more mature. The gossip isn't so hot for us, we have bigger fish to fry," he shrugged and his face turned to a massive black clock.

"Alright, I'll leave you to get yourself together," Fedyor said, standing up with a chuckle. "No offence, but you look like you've had better days." He gave me a sympathetic smile. "The General plans to be back for lunch, so you've got about 30 minutes to eat and freshen up."

Great. Not only do I feel like shit, I apparently look like one as well. Thank you, Fedyor!

…

As the half-hour passed, I found myself standing amidst the Grisha, watching as they mounted their horses. My gaze met the Darkling's, who, once again, stood before his coach. "Maybe we should travel on horseback," I blurted out without greeting him. "It would be faster. More convenient. Maybe safer too, if you really think about it." The thought of enduring a day in the saddle churned my stomach, but at least I wouldn't have to talk to him.

"Well, good morning to you too," he chimed, his eyebrow arching in mild amusement.

"I'd wager I've had toothaches more pleasant than this," I muttered bitterly.

He chuckled and swung open the coach's door, offering his hand to assist me. I met his gesture with a pleading look.

"We're taking the coach," he stated calmly, leaving no room for argument. "The closer we are to the border, the more spies are around us. No reason to invite unnecessary risks."

With a heavy sigh, I entered the black carriage, pointedly ignoring his outstretched hand. Unfazed, he followed suit and settled across from me. I tried to avoid his gaze as the coach set off. Fedyor made me feel slightly better this morning, but being in Darkling's presence again, all the embarrassment came flooding back.

I cringed as I felt his eyes studying me. Last night had spiralled out of control. He wasn't my friend or confidant; he was arguably the most powerful Grisha, the general of the Second Army. Yet, I had spent the evening drinking with him, sharing my deepest pains like an utter fool.

I couldn't help it. Yesterday felt so safe, so vulnerable…I wanted to open up to him, I wanted to be vulnerable. The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak, I reminded myself sternly.

I can't afford to be weak. Not now, and certainly not in the presence of someone as powerful as him. No matter how he makes me feel, I can't afford to forget who he truly is.

"Did Fedyor not help you?" he tilted his head.

"He did. Thank you for sending him." I nodded solemnly and turned my gaze towards the window, focusing on the passing scenery.

"So why do you look like you were in pain?"

"Thank you, you also look especially well this morning," I retorted, still avoiding his penetrating gaze.

The Darkling chuckled softly. "It is nice to see you kept your charm, but in all frankness, I am struggling not to take your sudden irritability too personally."

"It's nothing," I said, my voice terse as I kept my eyes trained on the road ahead. Please just let it go.

But he wouldn't. "The color of your cheeks would suggest otherwise," he observed, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Did something upset you this morning? Did Fedyor not treat you nicely?"

"No, he was lovely!" I assured him. "It's nothing, really… I'm just… I…" I sighed and gathered the courage to look at him. His expression revealed very little but I could see the hint of actual concern in his eyes.

"I guess I'm just embarrassed for getting so drunk yesterday," I admitted sheepishly.

There was a subtle shift in his expression as he answered. "There is no need. You weren't the only one who drank more than would be wise."

I shook my head. "Yeah, easy for you to say. But then again, you're not the one who laid out his complete life story in front of me."

"Is that what this is about?" He seemed taken aback by my response. I averted my eyes, focusing on the passing road instead.

"I apologize if my questions overstepped any boundaries, Klara. It was never my intention to upset you… I appreciated what you shared with me," he added softly after a pause.

We lapsed into silence, and when our eyes finally met, his gaze had shifted. Understanding flickered in his eyes, mingled with an unfamiliar sadness. Is he hurt? I thought. Yeah right, I had just hurt the Darkling's feelings. And when we come back to Os Alta, I will be crowned a queen!

"I'm sorry, it's just… this situation is so unusual for me. I… I don't understand what came over me. It's not like me to bare my soul like this, not to anyone," I confessed, shrugging. "The truth is, I don't know you and… knowledge is power. I've let my guard down and made myself vulnerable. I don't like that."

"Do you not trust me?"

"I do," I managed, my voice shaky as I met his gaze. There it was again, that tenderness.

"And you hate that," he concluded.

I nodded, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability bubbling within me. "I… spent my entire life living with a secret so dangerous that its discovery would mean certain death. Anyone, even those who showed me the slightest kindness, despised Grisha. Every person, no matter how insignificant, posed a threat. I kept to myself, shared nothing with anyone," I shook my head, remembering images from my past life.

"And then I meet you," I fumed over my recklessness. "And I simply lay myself bare before you?!"

"I don't despise Grisha, Klara. I am no threat to you."

I let out a humourless laugh, bitterness tainting the sound. "You're only the most feared being in the entire world. The most powerful Grisha alive, the most influential man in Ravka, the terrifying tale that haunts Fjerdan children at night. You are the last person I would ever choose to trust, and yet… Despite everything I stand for, I trust you. Enough to reveal my deepest secret. Enough to expose just how pathetically weak I truly am."

"Weak?!" His eyebrows shot up, disbelief evident in his widening eyes. My whole speech had left him quite astounded, but now his expression betrayed utter disbelief. "You called a life spent hiding in one of the most hostile, dangerous, and miserable places I know 'peaceful,' Klara. If that tells something of your character, it's that you are tough, brave, determined, and extraordinarily strong." His eyes were full of genuine confusion.

"So you don't think I'm weak, just foolish," I gathered.

He shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips as he dismissed my self-deprecating remark. "You also told me that you successfully used the Cut on four men simultaneously. That demonstrates not only great strength but also truly exceptional power," he paused, observing my reaction.

"The… Cut?" I repeated slowly. "Is that how it's called?"

"The Cut. It demands immense skill, a feat only the most formidable summoners can achieve."

"I saw you do it," I pointed out, recalling the encounter with the wolf on our journey to Os Alta.

"And I too was once terrified of it. Feeling fear in the face of such raw power is not a weakness," he explained, his gaze steady. "The first time is always the most terrifying. Especially if you merely seek to protect yourself, not to inflict any harm... But you'll get used to it," he reassured me with a gentle smile.

"What happened? When you first used it?"

"I ended the life of my friend," his tone remained composed, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. "She discovered that I was a living amplifier and tried to kill me to use my bones for herself." His eyes never left mine. "I was thirteen."

I covered my mouth with my hand, stunned into silence. "That's… horrific," I managed to choke out. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't her fault. She was Grisha, a very weak one. But her lack of true power didn't spare her from becoming a target of Otkazat'sya. She was consumed by fear, terrified of her inability to protect herself, and saw no other way out," he explained with a slight shrug. "That was the day I decided to change things. To make a sanctuary for all Grisha, so it could never happen again, he concluded, his eyes locking onto mine with unwavering intensity. He seemed to search for something within me, as if I held the key to a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. And then, unexpectedly, he smiled. "Do you feel better? Now I've also shared a painful memory with you," he asked lightly, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

"Not really," I shook my head. "You'll have to reveal all of your darkest secrets, I'm afraid." Relief washed over me as our conversation returned to its previous ease.

"Not easy to please, I see."

"Oh, you have no idea," I teased. "But… Thank you. I do appreciate you trusting me. I still feel strange, but at least… a little less exposed."

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Rest assured, you are still a complete enigma to me."

"Good!" I replied, playful defiance in my tone. "Let's keep it that way." We shared a smile.

"It's just scary to see how quickly I've let my guard down, I guess. And how easily I change… so much. I feel like I am becoming a different person."

"Change can be good," he remarked, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "I, for one, have recently chosen to embrace the change." With those words, he extended his hand towards me, slowly unfurling his palm to reveal a tiny finch made of shadows. I gasped as it fluttered its wings, the space between us growing darker with each stroke.