Siege and Storm

CHAPTER 20

I STAYED WELL CLEAR of the Grisha bonfires as I strode around the lakeshore. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.

What had I expected from Nikolai? Distraction? Flirtation? Something to shake the ache in my heart free? Maybe I’d just wanted some petty way to get back at Mal. Or maybe I was so desperate to feel connected to anyone that I would settle for a false kiss from an untrustworthy prince.

The idea of tomorrow night’s birthday dinner filled me with dread. Perhaps I could make some excuse, I considered as I stomped across the grounds. I could send a nice note to the Grand Palace sealed with wax and emblazoned with the Sun Summoner’s official seal:

To Their Most Royal Majesties, the King and Queen of Ravka:

It is with a sad heart that I must proffer my regrets and inform you that I will be unable to attend the festivities celebrating the birth of Prince Nikolai Lantsov, Grand Duke of Udova.

Unfortunate circumstances have arisen, namely that my best friend can’t seem to stand the sight of me, and your son didn’t kiss me, and I wish he had. Or I wish he hadn’t. Or I’m still not sure what I wish, but there’s a very good chance that if I’m forced to sit through his stupid birthday dinner, I’ll end up sobbing into my cake.

With best wishes on this most happy of occasions,

Alina Starkov, Idiot

When I reached the Darkling’s chambers, Tamar was reading in the common room. She looked up when I entered, but my mood must have shown on my face, because she didn’t say a word.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I propped myself up in bed with one of the books I’d taken from the library, an old travel guide that listed Ravka’s famous monuments. I had the barest hope that it would point me toward the arch.

I tried to focus, but I found myself reading the same sentence again and again. My head was muzzy with champagne, and my feet still felt cold and waterlogged from the lake. Mal might be back from his card game. If I knocked on his door and he answered, what would I say?

I tossed the book aside. I didn’t know what to say to Mal. I never did these days. But maybe I could just start with the truth: that I was lost and confused, and maybe losing my mind, that I scared myself sometimes, and that I missed him so much it was like physical pain. I needed to at least try to heal the rift between us before it was completely beyond repair. No matter what he thought of me afterward, it couldn’t get much worse. I could survive another rejection, but I couldn’t bear the thought that I hadn’t even tried to put this right.

I peeked into the common room.

“Is Mal here?” I asked Tamar.

She shook her head.

I swallowed my pride and asked, “Do you know where he went?”

Tamar sighed. “Get your shoes. I’ll take you to him.”

“Where is he?”

“The stables.”

Unsettled, I ducked back into my bedroom and quickly pulled on my shoes. I followed Tamar out of the Little Palace and across the lawns.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Tamar asked.

I didn’t reply. Whatever she had to show me, I knew I wasn’t going to like it. But I refused to just go back to my room and bury my head under the covers.

We made our way down the gentle slope that led past the banya. Horses whinnied in the paddocks. The stables were dark, but the training rooms were ablaze with light. I heard shouting.

The largest training room was little more than a barn with a dirt floor, its walls covered in every weapon imaginable. Usually, it was where Botkin doled out punishment to Grisha students and put them through their drills. But tonight it was crowded with people, mostly soldiers, some Grisha, even a few servants. They were all shouting and cheering, jostling and jockeying to try to get a better look at whatever was happening at the center of the room.

Unnoticed, Tamar and I worked our way through the crush of bodies. I glimpsed two royal trackers, several members of Nikolai’s regiment, a group of Corporalki, and Zoya, who was screaming and clapping with the rest of them.

I’d almost reached the front of the crowd when I caught sight of a Squaller, fists raised, chest bare, stalking his way around the circle the onlookers had formed. Eskil, I remembered, one of the Grisha who had been traveling with Fedyor. He was Fjerdan and he looked it—blue eyes, white-blond hair, tall and broad enough that he completely blocked my view.

It’s not too late, I thought. You can still turn around and pretend you were never here.

I stayed rooted to the spot. I knew what I would see, but it was still a shock when Eskil moved aside and I got my first glimpse of Mal. Like the Squaller, he was stripped to the waist, his muscled torso streaked with dirt and sweat. There were bruises on his knuckles. A trickle of blood coursed down his cheek from a cut below his eye, though he hardly seemed to notice.

The Squaller lunged. Mal blocked the first punch, but the next caught him beneath the kidneys. He grunted, dropped his elbow, and swung hard at the Squaller’s jaw.

Eskil bobbed out of Mal’s range and scooped his arm through the air in a swooping arc. With a stab of panic, I realized he was summoning. The gust rustled my hair, and in the next second, Mal was blown off his feet by Etherealki wind. Eskil threw out his other arm, and Mal’s body shot upward, slamming into the roof of the barn. He hung there for a moment, pinned to the wooden beams by the Grisha’s power. Then Eskil let him drop. He crashed to the dirt floor with bone-rattling force.

I screamed, but the sound was lost in the roar of the crowd. One of the Corporalki bellowed encouragement at Eskil while another was shouting at Mal to get up.

I pushed forward, light already blooming from my hands. Tamar grabbed my sleeve.

“He doesn’t want your help,” she said.

“I don’t care,” I yelled. “This isn’t a fair fight. That isn’t allowed!” Grisha were never permitted to use their powers in the training rooms.

“Botkin’s rules don’t apply after dark. Mal’s in the middle of a fight, not a lesson.”

I yanked away from her. Better Mal angry than Mal dead.

He was on his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet. I was amazed he could even move after the Squaller’s attack. Eskil raised his hands again. The air billowed up in a flurry of dust. I called the light to me, not caring what Tamar or Mal had to say about it. But this time, Mal rolled, dodging the current and launching to his feet with surprising speed.

Eskil scowled and scanned the perimeter, considering his options. I knew what he was weighing. He couldn’t just let loose without risking knocking us all down, and maybe part of the stables too. I waited, keeping a tenuous grasp on the light, unsure of what to do.

Mal was breathing hard, bent at the waist, hands resting on his thighs. He’d probably cracked at least one rib. He was lucky he hadn’t broken his spine. I willed him to get back down and stay there. Instead, he forced himself upright, hissing at the pain. He rolled his shoulders, cursed, spat blood. Then, to my horror, he curled his fingers and beckoned the Squaller forward. A cheer went up from the crowd.

“What is he doing?” I moaned. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

“He’ll be fine,” Tamar said. “I’ve seen him take worse.”

“What?”

“He fights here almost every night when he’s sober enough. Sometimes when he’s not.”

“He fights Grisha?”

Tamar shrugged. “He’s actually pretty good.”

This was what Mal did with his nights? I remembered all the mornings he’d appeared with bruises and scrapes. What was he trying to prove? I thought of my careless words as we’d returned from the fortune-telling party. I don’t want the burden of an army of helpless otkazat’sya.

I wished I could take them back.

The Squaller feinted left, then raised his hands for another attack. Wind blew through the circle, and I saw Mal’s feet lose contact with the floor. I gritted my teeth, sure I was about to see him tossed against the nearest wall. But at the last second, he spun, wrenching away from the blast of air and charging the startled Squaller.

Eskil let out a loud oof as Mal clamped his arms around him, keeping the Grisha’s limbs pinned so that he couldn’t summon his power. The big Fjerdan snarled, muscles straining, teeth bared as he tried to break Mal’s hold.

I knew it must have cost him, but Mal tightened his grip. He shifted, then drove his forehead into his opponent’s nose with a nauseating crunch. Before I could blink, he’d released Eskil and hammered a flurry of punches into the Squaller’s gut and sides.

Eskil hunched over, trying to protect himself, struggling for breath as blood gushed over his open mouth. Mal pivoted and delivered a brutal kick to the back of the Squaller’s legs. Eskil fell to his knees, swaying, but still somehow upright.

Mal backed away, surveying his work. The crowd was whooping and stomping, their screams rising to a frenzy, but Mal’s wary eyes were trained on the kneeling Squaller.

He studied his opponent, then dropped his fists. “Go on,” he said to the Grisha. The look on his face sent a chill through me. There was challenge there and a kind of grim satisfaction. What was he seeing when he looked at Eskil on his knees?

Eskil’s eyes were glassy. With an effort, the Grisha lifted his palms. The barest breeze fluttered toward Mal. A chorus of boos rose from the crowd.

Mal let it wash over him, then stepped forward. Eskil’s weak gust faltered. Mal planted his hand in the center of the Squaller’s chest and gave a single, disdainful shove.

Eskil toppled. His big body hit the ground, and he curled in on himself, moaning.

Jeers and elated shrieks erupted all around us. A gleeful soldier grabbed Mal’s wrist and lifted it over his head in triumph as money began to change hands.

The crowd surged toward Mal, carrying me with them. Everybody was talking at once. People slapped him on the back, jamming money into his palms. Then Zoya appeared in front of him. She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. I saw him go rigid.

A rushing sound filled my ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd.

Push her away, I begged silently. Push her away.

And for a moment, I thought he might. But then his arms closed around her, and he kissed her back as the crowd hooted and cheered.

The bottom fell out of my stomach. It was like putting a foot wrong on a frozen creek, the crack of ice, the sudden drop, the knowledge that there was nothing beneath but dark water.

He pulled away from her, grinning, his cheek still bloodied, and that was when his eyes met mine. His face went white.

Zoya followed his gaze and lifted a defiant brow when she saw me.

I turned and began forcing my way back through the crowd. Tamar fell into step beside me.

“Alina,” she said.

“Leave me alone.”

I broke away from her. I had to get outside, had to get away from everyone. Tears were beginning to blur my vision. I wasn’t sure if they were for the kiss or what had gone before it, but I couldn’t let them see. The Sun Summoner didn’t cry, especially over one of her otkazat’sya guards.

And what right did I have? Hadn’t I almost kissed Nikolai? Maybe I could find him now, convince him to kiss me no matter who I was thinking of.

I burst from the stables and into the half-light. The air was warm and thick. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I strode away from the well-lit path by the paddocks and made for the shelter of the birchwood grove.

Someone tugged at my arm.

“Alina,” Mal said.

I shook him off and hurried my steps, practically running now.

“Alina, stop,” he said, easily keeping pace with me, despite the injuries he’d received.

I ignored him and plunged into the woods. I could smell the hot springs that fed the banya, the sharp scent of birch leaves beneath my feet. My throat ached. All I wanted was to be left alone to cry or be sick, maybe both.

“Damn it, Alina, would you please stop?”

I couldn’t give in to my hurt, so I gave in to my anger.

“You’re the captain of my guard,” I said, blundering through the trees. “You shouldn’t be brawling like some kind of commoner!”

Mal caught hold of my arm and yanked me around. “I am a commoner,” he growled. “Not one of your pilgrims or your Grisha or some pampered watchdog who sits outside your door all night on the off chance that you might need me.”

“Of course not,” I seethed. “You have much better things to do with your time. Like getting drunk and shoving your tongue down Zoya’s throat.”

“At least she doesn’t flinch when I touch her,” he spat. “You don’t want me, so why do you care if she does?”

“I don’t,” I said, but the words came out as a sob.

Mal released me so suddenly that I almost fell backward. He paced away from me, shoving his hands through his hair. The movement made him wince. His fingers tested the flesh at his side. I wanted to yell at him to go find a Healer. I wanted to smash my fist into the break and make it hurt worse.

“Saints,” he swore. “I wish we’d never come here.”

“Then let’s leave,” I said wildly. I knew I wasn’t making any sense, but I didn’t much care. “Let’s run away, tonight, and forget we ever saw this place.”

He let out a bitter bark of laughter. “Do you know how much I want that? To be with you without rank or walls or anything between us? Just to be common again together?” He shook his head. “But you won’t do it, Alina.”

“I will,” I said, tears spilling over my cheeks.

“Don’t kid yourself. You’d just find a way back.”

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I said desperately.

“You can’t fix it!” he shouted. “This is the way it is. Did it ever occur to you that maybe you were meant to be a queen and I’m not meant to be anything at all?”

“That isn’t true.”

He stalked toward me, the boughs of the trees making strange shifting shadows across his face in the twilight.

“I’m not a soldier anymore,” he said. “I’m not a prince, and I’m sure as hell not a Saint. So what am I, Alina?”

“I—”

“What am I?” he whispered.

He was close to me now. The scent I knew so well, that dark green scent of the meadow, was lost beneath the smell of sweat and blood.

“Am I your guardian?” he asked.

He ran his hand slowly down my arm, from shoulder to fingertips.

“Your friend?”

His left hand skimmed down my other arm.

“Your servant?”

I could feel his breath on my lips. My heart thundered in my ears.

“Tell me what I am.” He pulled me against his body, his hand circling my wrist.

When his fingers closed, a sharp jolt rocked through me, buckling my knees. The world tilted, and I gasped. Mal dropped my hand as if he’d been burned.

He backed away from me, stunned. “What was that?”

I tried to blink away the dizziness.

“What the hell was that?” he said again.

“I don’t know.” My fingers still tingled.

A humorless smile twisted his lips. “It’s never easy with us, is it?”

I shoved to my feet, suddenly angry. “No, Mal, it isn’t. It’s never going to be easy or sweet or comfortable with me. I can’t just leave the Little Palace. I can’t run away or pretend that this isn’t who I am, because if I do, more people will die. I can’t ever just be Alina again. That girl is gone.”

“I want her back,” he said roughly.

“I can’t go back!” I screamed, not caring who heard me. “Even if you take away this collar and the sea whip’s scales, you can’t carve this power out of me.”

“And what if I could? Would you let it go? Would you give it up?”

“Never.”

The truth of that word hung between us. We stood there, in the darkness of the woods, and I felt the shard in my heart shift. I knew what it would leave behind when the pain was gone: loneliness, nothingness, a deep fissure that would not mend, the desperate edge of the abyss I had once glimpsed in the Darkling’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” Mal said at last.

“Where?”

“Back to the Little Palace. I’m not going to just leave you in the woods.”

We walked up the hill in silence and entered the palace through the Darkling’s chambers. The common room was blessedly empty.

At the door to my room, I turned to Mal.

“I see him,” I said. “I see the Darkling. In the library. In the chapel. That time on the Fold when the Hummingbird nearly crashed. In my room, the night you tried to kiss me.”

He stared at me.

“I don’t know if they’re visions or visitations. I didn’t tell you because I think I might be going mad. And because I think you’re already a little afraid of me.”

Mal opened his mouth, closed it, tried again. Even then, I hoped he might deny it. Instead, he turned his back on me. He crossed to the guards’ quarters, stopping only to snatch a bottle of kvas from the table, and softly shut the door behind him.

I got ready for bed and eased between the sheets, but the night was too warm. I kicked them into a tangle at my feet. I lay on my back gazing up at the obsidian dome marked by constellations. I wanted to bang on Mal’s door, tell him I was sorry, that I’d made a terrible mess of things, that we should have marched into Os Alta that first day hand in hand. But would it have mattered in the end?

There is no ordinary life for people like you and me.

No ordinary life. Just battle and fear and mysterious crackling jolts that rocked us back on our heels. I’d spent so many years wishing to be the kind of girl that Mal could want. Maybe that wasn’t possible anymore.

There are no others like us, Alina. And there never will be.

When the tears came, they burned hot and angry. I turned my face into my pillow so that no one would hear me cry. I wept, and when there was nothing left, I fell into a troubled sleep.

“ALINA.”

I woke to the soft brush of Mal’s lips on mine, the barest touch to my temple, my eyelids, my brow. The light from the guttering flame on my bedside table glinted off his brown hair as he bent to kiss the curve of my throat.

For a moment, I hesitated, confused, not quite awake, then I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer. I didn’t care that we’d fought, that he’d kissed Zoya, that he’d walked away from me, that everything felt so impossible. The only thing that mattered was that he’d changed his mind. He’d come back, and I wasn’t alone.

“I missed you, Mal,” I murmured against his ear. “I missed you so much.”

My arms glided up his back and twined around his neck. He kissed me again, and I sighed into the welcome press of his mouth. I felt his weight slide over me and ran my hands over the hard muscles of his arms. If Mal was still with me, if he could still love me, then there was hope. My heart was pounding in my chest as warmth spread through me. There was no sound but our breathing and the shift of our bodies together. He was kissing my throat, my collarbone, drinking my skin. I shivered and pressed closer to him.

This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? To find some way to heal the breach between us? Still, a sliver of panic cut through me. I needed to see his face, to know we were all right. I cupped his head with my hands, tilting his chin, and as my gaze met his, I shrank back in terror.

I looked into Mal’s eyes—his familiar blue eyes that I knew even better than my own. Except they weren’t blue. In the dying lamplight, they glimmered quartz gray.

He smiled then, a cold, clever smile like none I’d ever seen on his lips.

“I missed you too, Alina.” That voice. Cool and smooth as glass.

Mal’s features melted into shadow and then formed again like a face from the mist. Pale, beautiful, that thick shock of black hair, the perfect sweep of jaw.

The Darkling rested one gentle hand on my cheek. “Soon,” he whispered.

I screamed. He broke into shadows and vanished.

I scrambled out of bed, clutching my arms around myself. My skin was crawling, my body quaking with terror and the memory of desire. I expected Tamar or Tolya to come bursting through the door. Already, I had a lie on my lips.

“Nightmare,” I would say. And the word would come out steady, convincing, despite the rattling of my heart in my chest and the new scream I felt building in my throat.

But the room stayed silent. No one came. I stood shaking in the near dark.

I took a shallow, trembling breath. Then another.

When my legs felt steady enough, I pulled on my robe and peeked into the common room. It was empty.

I closed my door and pressed my back against it, staring at the rumpled covers of the bed. I was not going back to sleep. I might never sleep again. I glanced at the clock on the mantel. Sunrise came early during Belyanoch, but it would be hours before the palace woke.

I dug through the pile of clothes that I’d kept from our journey on the Volkvolny and pulled out a drab brown coat and a long scarf. It was too hot for either, but I didn’t care. I drew the coat on over my nightshift, wrapped the scarf around my head and neck, and tugged on my shoes.

As I crept through the common room, I saw the door to the guards’ quarters was closed. If Mal or the twins were inside, they must be sleeping deeply. Or maybe Mal was somewhere else beneath the domes of the Little Palace, tangled in Zoya’s arms. My heart gave a sick twist. I took the doors to the left and hurried through the darkened halls, into the silent grounds.