☼☼☼☼☼☼

The first word to leave her lips was Mal. She needed to make sure he was okay, that he was safe. The volcra had swarmed them out of nowhere until finally they were gone. She didn't know what had done it, nor how she and Mal had gotten out of there alive, but all she wanted to do now was crawl into his arms and never let him go.

"Mal?" Alina asked, trying to process where she was. The sun shone above her, almost as if it was energizing her. But that wasn't possible. They'd been stuck in the Fold. In the Dark. Crossing was certain death, and she'd been so sure Mal wasn't going to make it that she'd sacrificed the lives of her friends for a chance to die with him.

Except they hadn't died. They'd both lived.

And Mal was nowhere to be seen. "Mal?" She asked again, pain splitting across her collarbone as she sat up. Something pushed her back down. A woman in red with grey embroidery ordered her to stay put, her hands miraculously stitching up her collarbone untl the pain was a dull memory. "My friend, where is he?" She gripped the healer with a strength she didn't know she had, causing the brunette's eyes to widen.

"First Army goes to medical." The healer explained, continuing to see to her wounds. Alina shook her head, confusion bundling itself up into a knot in her chest. So why wasn't she in medical with him? She was First Army. Why were the Grisha healers wasting their time with her?

Her answer came in the form of the Grisha that had offered to tumble Mal the night before. She was a statuesque thing with long dark hair and bright blue eyes to match her kefta. Her arms crossed her chest and she never took her gaze off Alina, "Bring her to the General's tent. Kovacs will want to speak with her as well."

She must have hit her head harder than she thought. Why would Alina be summoned to the General's tent? Her eyes widened as she remembered the reason she'd ended up on the skiff in the first place.

Oh Saints.

She was going to be dishonorably discharged for burning the maps. She'd be punished and separated from Mal forever, unable to keep track of him or stay by his side. They'd take her away and she'd never see him again.

But Alina couldn't find the strength to put up any resistance as her cartographer's jacket slipped off her shoulder, the healer finishing up her touches on her injuries until two men in black grasped hold of Alina's arms and dragged her off the skiff.

She didn't even register the pain, too lost in her thoughts of being separated from Mal and her own confusion about why she was summoned to the Grisha's tent in the first place. She wasn't anyone special, just a mapmaker from a forgettable town that no one knew. An orphan from Keramzin whose only friend was a tracker that she couldn't live without.

The black tent of General Kirigan grew closer, and Alina tried to wrest herself from the oprichniki's grip, but it was too late, She descended underneath the eclipse and found herself thrown into the center of attention, a figure draped in black with his back to her.

This was him.

The Darkling.

A Suli woman in a blue kefta stood by his side, examining Alina. She was different than the woman who'd been on the skiff. The woman who'd propositioned Mal.

This woman was older, with lighter hair and pale blue cuffs. A Tidemaker.

The Darkling's voice rang out, "Bring her closer."

Someone pushed her forward.

Silence hung in the air.

"Closer." He ordered again, his back still to her.

Alina shuffled a few inches forward, not daring to move any closer unless his ask was explicit. The shadows crept away from the Darkling's face as he turned around, pale skin bathed in sunlight as his slate gaze landed on her dark one.

Her stomach flopped over at the stare, and Alina found herself wishing Mal was by her side instead of in the medic tent. She missed the feel of her hand in his, of his stare on her back, always watching out for her.

"Well?" The Darkling asked, expecting her to know the answer to his unspoken question. Alina could only stare with her lips parted.

"Well, what? Sir." She tagged the honorific on as a lazy show of respect, and Alina swore she saw the Tidemaker smile at her words. The Darkling shared a look with the Suli woman before turning back to Alina.

He cocked an eyebrow, "What are you?"

Alina forced herself to straighten her posture, repeating the ranks she'd been assigned like she'd known them her whole life. She practically had. "Alina Starkov, Assistant Cartographer, Royal Corps of Surveyors." It was then she realized that she didn't need to say the assistant role in her name anymore. She was the only one left. "They're all gone." She murmured, pressure building behind her eyes as she stared down at the dirt beneath her feet. Raisa...Alexei...they were all dead and she was responsible for it. "It's my fault. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

Her gaze was fearful, but the Darkling's remained unchanged, out of the corner of her eye, Alina caught movement from the Tidemaker.

"Answer the question." The Darkling ordered, growing impatient, "What. are. You?"

She didn't know what he wanted her to say. She'd given him her rank, her admission of guilt. Surely that was enough to discharge her. Surely that was enough to punish her.

"A-a..mapmaker, sir." She shrugged, stumbling over her words.

Blood rushed to her cheeks as laughter spilled out of the men and women around her. She tugged at her sleeves, trying to pull them over her hands.

Oh Mal, where are you?

"Quiet."

At the sound of the Darkling's voice, all the laughter ceased and Alina watched with bated breath as the Tidemaker approached the man in black, whispering something in his ear before he nodded and the woman stepped forward, a curious glint in her eyes, the sunlight changing the hue of her irises to the point where Alina couldn't tell what color they were unless she was closer.

"When were you tested?" She asked.

Alina inhaled sharply, unable to hide the apprehensive look on her face as she eyed the other members of the Second Army inside the tent. "I don't- I wasn't-"

The Darkling lingered behind the Tidemaker, that same expectant expression on his face. The Tidemaker's was kinder, almost sympathetic, but still she expected an answer.

When Alina gave her none, the woman's lips curled upward.

"You weren't tested?" She asked. Alina's gaze drifted to the scar on her palm and she shook her head.

It was easier than telling the truth. She didn't think anyone would understand that she'd never wanted to be Grisha. That it was the one thing that stood between her and Mal.

The Darkling stepped forward, eyes narrowing in Alina's direction, "Zoya claims that you were set upon by volcra. That you..." He let the word hang in the air, "Summoned a searing light that drove them away."

A knot began to form in her throat. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. She couldn't be Grisha. She wasn't Grisha. She belonged in the First Army. She belonged with Mal.

The Darkling's lips twitched upward, "Considering you weren't tested, I suppose now is better than later."

Alina shook her head, unable to form the words to protest. Perhaps she didn't want to.

The Darkling continued to stare at her, a gleam in his dark eyes, "Just to make certain."

He took a step forward. And then another one, closing the gap between them. Alina's breath caught in her throat, torn between wanting to know and wishing she'd never entered the Fold in the first place.

His hand grasped her bare wrist and the entire world went white.

☼☼☼☼☼☼

Reyka pursed her lips as she mulled over the General's newest instructions. Kribirsk was no longer their concern, instead they were tasked with escorting their new miracle to the Little Palace to train.

She recalled the way The Darkling's eyes had lit up with hope when he'd touched the Shu girl, how that burst of light had broken through whatever cloud had been lingering over him, illuminating the tent and eventually their way through the Fold. Reyka could only look in apprehension. "No!"

Reyka's attention was drawn toward the Darkling's coach, where their Sun Summoner awaited. Alina Starkov. She was staring down Ivan, two oprichniki on either side of her, hands clenched in fists.

Reyka moved closer, the conversation becoming clearer.

"Our orders are to escort you to the Little Palace," Ivan grumbled, clearly annoyed with the girl's resistance, "Anything else delays us."

Alina continued to stare down the Heartrender, a defiant look in her eyes, "Not until I see Mal. There's been a mistake-"

"The general does not make mistakes," Ivan cut her off again, the vein in his forehead nearly popping.

Alina scoffed, "Everyone makes mistakes," She gestured to her clothes, "Look at me, do I look important to you?"

Reyka's heart tugged at Alina's words, knowing that the Summoner believed them with all her heart. She'd once been the same. "Your friend," She called out, Alina whipping her head around to meet Reyka's gaze, a stitch of fear flashing over her dark eyes, "What's his name?"

"Reyka..." Ivan warned, but Alina cut him off.

"Malyen Oretsev," She continued, a hopeful expression in her face, "I just need to make sure he's okay and then I'll go, I promise."
Reyka knew she was lying, but Alina was untrained, weak. She nodded at the oprichniki who bowed and marched back toward the Darkling's tent. "Come on, let's go say goodbye."

Ivan grasped her arm, the tight grip nearly cutting off circulation to her hand, "He wants to leave now."

Reyka shrugged, "And we will, but first she gets to say goodbye. She's owed that at least."

She ripped her arm out of Ivan's grasp and linked it with Alina's, escorting the girl to the medic tent and motioning for the lone oprichniki to follow.

"Why are you doing this?" Alina asked, eyebrows drawing themselves together in a skeptical expression, drawing more attention to the crease in her forehead. "Aren't you loyal to him?"

Reyka stopped just a few paces away from their destination, staring at the young woman before her. She was so innocent, not yet privy to the horrors that awaited her as a Grisha. As a Shu woman in Ravka.

"The Darkling is my commander," Reyka explained, confirming one part of her suspicions, "But that doesn't mean I agree with everything he does."

Alina narrowed her gaze. Reyka chuckled sadly.

"You don't?" The Summoner asked.

Reyka shook her head. Questioning Alina in front of the Second Army was one of them. A few trusted Grisha would have been enough, everyone in the Second Army witnessing the miracle anyway. The least Reyka could do was offer the girl some dignity.

"When I was young I was taken from my parents," Reyka explained, hoping her moment of vulnerability would help Alina trust her, "In a situation eerily similar to yours." She gulped, recalling the moment with perfect clarity, the screams still scratching her throat. "I never got to say goodbye. I don't want that for you."

Alina's eyes widened in understanding and she gave a small nod. Reyka gestured down the path and Alina continued forward, her shoulders tense and eyes darting back and forth between the Suli woman and the oprichniki. The walk to the medic tent was short, but both Ivan and the Darkling acted like it would have delayed their trip by hours if Alina said goodbye.

"Mal!" The girl yelled, running toward a half-suli man splayed out on a stretcher, "Thank the saints you're alright."

Despite the pain the boy was in, he embraced Alina tightly, not caring about his wounds or the pressure the Summoner was putting on them, "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Alina shook her head, a single tear dripping down her face, "I didn't know, Mal, I swear I didn't know-"

"But you cheated-"

"Because I didn't want to leave you!"

Reyka inhaled sharply and moved away from the pair, letting their conversation go unheard. The two of them deserved a moment of privacy together. Before it was all ripped away from her.

Alina's experience at the Little Palace would be far better than Reyka's own. But she would still be a prisoner. Everyone at the Little Palace was a prisoner, stolen from their family and forced to serve the King.

No wonder the Darkling wished to free them all. They were all like her.

Her throat dropped into her stomach as the tent opened up, the Darkling, dressed in his black kefta and fur coat, headed straight for the coach.

Reyka ran back to the pair, peeking around the pole and grabbing Alina's arm, "We have to go."

"What? No, I'm not done, I-"

"Now!" Reyka urged, pulling her away from Mal and gesturing to the oprichniki.

Alina continued to struggle, and a flash of memories shuffled themselves across her vision. Of a young girl stripped of everything, thrown into a carriage with no other knowledge except that she had lost everything. That she had some sort of power that was invaluable to the crown.

The struggle. The screams.

"Let her go," Reyka ordered, contradicting her original command. The oprichniki eyed her suspiciously and tightened his grip on Alina. Reyka flicked her fingers, frost crawling up the bare hand of the oprichniki. The man in black screamed and tried to pull his grip away, but it stayed frozen around Alina's arm, blue cracks starting to form where the veins had been. The appendage resembled a marble statue, breakable at any moment. She could feel the water pulsing in his veins, mixing with the blood that the Corporalki treasured so much. There wasn't much power she held over the human body, not like Ivan or Fedyor did, but it was still made of water. It ebbed and flowed and froze at the mercy of her fingertips. Reyka twisted her hand and the limb shattered, the guard stumbling back in horror.

Alina's eyes widened but Reyka didn't even flinch.

She gripped Alina's wrist and pulled her further away from the medical tent, the girl's voice calling out to Mal, who was already pushing his superior away to reach her. "Mal! Remember what I said!"

"Alina!" He called out, limping toward them.

Reyka shoved Alina in the carriage just as the Darkling swung his legs across his horse, "Go," She ordered the driver, ignoring Fedyor's confused gaze as she piled in. Her eyes caught the narrowed ones of the Darkling, who was gazing at her with an expression she didn't recognize.

It couldn't be good.

She straightened her posture and ducked into the coach, situating herself next to Alina, the girl now clothed in a red kefta that would protect her. She didn't take her eyes off Reyka, horror still present in the dark hues, wide and scared, just like Reyka had been.

"Why did you do that?" Alina asked.

Reyka didn't look at the girl, just stared blankly ahead, trying to shove the residual guilt she felt for performing such a task down into her stomach, far away from her pulsating heart. That was the worst part of using her powers on people.

The world was never ending, always supplying her with new droplets of water, the sea an eternal resource she could use. Humans were brittle, feeble things that could break easily.

She never liked the way they felt under her touch, how much power she held with the tip of her fingers.

She never killed them, only maimed them.

But that didn't stop the guilt from writhing inside her. "He was hurting you," She explained, still not meeting Alina's gaze.

The girl shook her head, "No, he wasn't. Just because I didn't want to go doesn't mean-"

"Yes he was." Reyka whipped her head around sharply, violet clashing against brown. Her mouth flapped open and shut, gulping down the lump in her throat, "I didn't want to see you struggle."

Alina scoffed, refusing to say any more as she stared out the window, Fedyor and Ivan remaining silent.

The rest of the journey passed in painful silence, until they were only a few lengths outside of Kribirsk and a shout halted the party.

Reyka remained on edge, throwing her arm out in front of Alina as Ivan and Fedyor listened for the sound of incoming heartbeats.

"Stay here," Ivan warned, stepping out of the coach, sending a look at both Reyka and Alina, "And don't leave," He ordered.

Reyka arched a single eyebrow as if to say 'really?' and Alina was too much in shock to protest.

Fedyor let out a reluctant sigh and followed his boyfriend, "He means well."

"You and I both know he doesn't Fed," Reyka teased, bringing a smile to the Heartrender's face as the door closed behind him.

Reyka forced herself to listen, the sloshing of water in Ivan and Fedyor's body the only bodily fluid she could hear. She couldn't listen to heartbeats, but as long as she could feel the water in their veins, she knew they were alive.

The air grew thick around her, and silence reigned.

"DRUSKELLE!"

Reyka sprung up, "Stay here," She warned Alina, who grabbed ahold of her wrist.

"Wait, where are you going?" The girl's wide eyes and open mouth gave away all her emotions, fright written into the creases of her face like a book.

Reyka softened her gaze and squeezed the Summoner's hand, "I'll be back, I promise."

Her hand slid from Alina's grasp and she shut the door, a simple flick of her wrist and the door iced over, gathering around the lock and freezing it solid.

It might not stop the Fjerdans but it would slow them down. "Ivan! Fedyor!" Reyka called, fingers wrapping around the tiny bits of condensation in the air and gathering them together, vibrating so hard that it formed a sheet of ice in front of her, an arrow lodged itself in the shield, inches away from her face. "Behind me!" She yelled, the Heartrenders following her orders as she stood guard over the coach, she curled her fingers inward, wrists touching while her palms faced outward, the sheet of ice growing thicker and thicker until it served as adequate protection for the two Heartrenders.

The bodies of the Druskelle writhed and shrieked under the control of Ivan and Fedyor, convulsing as blood dribbled down their chins, held against the trees they once used for cover as the trunks stained themselves crimson.

Reyka pushed forward, and a younger Druskelle let out a war cry and charged, axe held high above his head. With a free hand, she reached around her, fingers wetting themselves with the droplets in the air, hardening before they were sent sailing forward with a swift push of her hand.

Tiny icicle shards embedded themselves in the man's face. Blood poured through the wounds like water through a sieve.

"How many heartbeats?" Reyka asked, unmoving as several more arrows lodged themselves in the makeshift shield.

She could feel the ice crack under the pressure and she used her other hand to reinforce it, the projectiles coming faster than she could string something together.

Ivan focused his concentration, trying to count how many soldiers there were, but before he could respond, pain shot through her shoulder and the shield splattered into rain.

"Sharpshooter!" Someone yelled.

Reyka clutched her shoulder, blood staining the blue kefta as she silently cursed Mayakovsky for dressing her in such flimsy fabric. She knew it was a mistake to ask anyone except David to make her keftas.

Smoke impeded her vision and Reyka let out a sickening cough.

"The girl!" Fedyor's eyes grew wide before hacking into his arm.

Reyka's eyes stung, drawing fresh tears from her ducts as she ducked behind a rock with the rest of the members of the Second Army. "Ivan-" She hacked up spit into the sleeve of her kefta, "Get the rest of them back to the coach," She ordered, "I'm going after Alina."
The Heartrender nodded, their differences shoved aside when it came to protecting their own. Reyka may not like the Grisha, but they were all prisoners. Just like her.

Her knees screamed in pain as she scraped them against the dirt, keeping low so the Druskelle wouldn't target her.

The gravel scraped against her skin, scraping skin off with each movement. Not even the specially made fabrikator leggings were enough to protect her from the natural world. The smoke infected her lungs, weaving through them like threads in a tapestry, threatening to choke her.

"No please!" Alina's voice pierced the air and Reyka's heart jumped into her throat. She scrambled up, sharpshooters be damned, and sprinted toward the sound. "I'm not Grisha! I'm a mapmaker!"

Alina's cries went unheeded and Reyka watched with horrified eyes as the smoke cleared, revealing the sight of Druskelle straddling the new Summoner, axe lifted high above his head.

She had no other choice.

There was only one option left.

Reyka stretched out her hands, the condensation in the air bending to her every whim, anger pulsating in her ears as she sought water from every source available to her.

The grass, the air, the dead forgotten bodies near the coach.

It all served to create a thin blade of white ice in the air before her, ready to slice through the man threatening Alina.

Images of the King popped up in her mind. Of the oprichniki she'd encountered when she first showed up at the Palace.

Of the boy she'd first used the Cut on.

She would not let Alina suffer the same way she had.

A shot rang out and the screams stopped. The Cut disappeared as Reyka whipped around to face the sound. The Sharpshooter was nowhere to be seen and the Fjerdan assassin lay faceup on the dirt, his axe still in his hand.

There, riding up on a horse with a rifle in his hand, stood Mal Oretsev, his eyes hard and lips drawn into a curt frown.

"Mal..." Alina breathed, scrambling up as her friend swung down hard on his injured leg, the same tight embrace engulfing both of them.

"I tracked the Fjerdan party just a few miles out from Kribirsk after you left," Mal explained, pulling away with a sheepish look, "I knew they'd be after you, so I grabbed a horse and ran."

Alina shook her head, mouth dropping open at the admission, "They'll hang you, or worse. Desertion isn't tolerated, you know that."

Mal simply shrugged, "I couldn't let you slip away, not after what you told me."

Reyka swore she saw a slight red tinge to Alina's cheeks before the stampede of hooves inetrrupted the moment.

Mal lifted up his rifle again but Alina pushed it back down, "Wait...it's him."

Reyka turned around, well aware of her terrible state as the Darkling trotted up, surveying the mess before him. She watched his eyes narrow at the tracker. "What is he doing here?" He asked, swinging off his horse with ease and striding up next to her.

Mal's shoulders tensed, "Be grateful I was, shadow man, your miracle would've died otherwise."

The Darkling's jaw clenched at the insult, turning toward Alina, "Is this true?"

Reyka felt just a bit insulted that he hadn't bothered to check up on the rest of his army. Alina nodded, her hand slipping into Mal's.

The rush of adrenaline swept out of Reyka's body and she let out a grunt of pain, the bullet wound in her shoulder throbbing. Her traditional Tidemaker's kefta wasn't one she wore often. It had been crafted with ceremony in mind, the white embroidered one was the bulletproof kefta, and that one was safely tucked away. Instead Reyka had been dressed in silk and playing at war, trying to protect her soldiers without armor.

And as a result the shooter had left a mark.

The Darkling whirled around at the painful sound, whites of his eyes widening as he caught sight of the wound. "What happened?" His voice lowered into a growl, "Why weren't you wearing proper protection?"

She squinted at him and scoffed, "I would have if you and Mayakovsky hadn't insisted the white kefta was the only one I needed."

His eyes never left her wound, "You could've been killed."

Reyka furrowed her brows. Why did he care about what happened to her? She was just another expendable Grisha. He had found his miracle, nothing else mattered anymore. "We all could've been killed." She reminded him. The Darkling's jaw clenched tighter, his hand curling into a fist before grabbing her bicep, pulling Reyka closer to him. His breath was hot on her neck as his voice tickled her ear, "You are the only person I trust to look after the Sun Summoner. If you fall, she falls."

His eyes were hardened grisha steel, unable to be moved, but Reyka knew there was something else behind them. It was in the way his voice hooked around his words, the hesitation in his tone.

There were other reasons. She just didn't know what.

What could have made her so important?

Why did he need her alive?

With a regal countenance, the Darkling turned toward the pair of friends, a forced smile on his face as he approached them. "To whom do I owe my thanks?"

Mal shot a furrowed brow toward Alina, who let go of his hand in silent permission. Reyka arched a brow at the interaction, filing it away for later.

"Malyen Oretsev, tracker with the 36th regiment. Sir." Just like Alina, he tagged the title on as an afterthought. He was a soldier through and through.

The Darkling just chuckled, "Thank you Mal, in gratitude I will not report you as a deserter. Now go back to the 36th, where you're needed."

"Wait!" Alina stepped forward in protest, a nasty bruise forming on her chin, "He's not coming with us?"

The Darkling's eyes widened in shock, "I am not in the habit of picking up every otkazat'sya that we come across. Especially deserters." His gaze drifted back to the tracker, eyeing him in disdain. Mal stared down the General.

Alina could only stand there, unable to process what she was hearing, "But...it's Mal!"

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

Alina grasped the tracker's hand again, lifting her chin up in defiance, "Well if Mal doesn't go, then I don't go."

Reyka had to admire the girl's spunk. Not many people would defy the Darkling like that and live. Disbelief clouded the General's eyes, "You are aware that more will attempt to succeed where the Druskelle have failed if you do not follow me to the Little Palace."

Alina shrugged, "Mal can protect me," She lifted her eyes to meet her friend's, "I trust him with my life."

The tracker smiled.

A mirthless laugh escaped the Darkling's lips and before he could lash out, Reyka found her hand gently grasping his shoulder. "Wait," She cautioned, drawing his attention back to her, the steeled gaze returning when he caught sight of the blood and grime that decorated her face, "Maybe we should think about this."

His jaw clenched again, "I am not entrusting the future of Ravka in the hands of someone who cannot protect her the way the Second Army can."

"No, but she does." Reyka reminded him, dropping her voice to a whisper as she pulled him away from the couple, "You want Alina to trust you right?" He let out a reluctant sigh and nodded, pressing his lips together, "What do you think is the smart move? Sending her closest friend to march straight into a death trap, or keeping him around where you can see him?"

His gaze drifted back to the tracker, remaining silent.

Reyka took her chance to cement her point further, "He found the Druskelle when our own Heartrenders weren't aware of it. He tracked them here. You might have use for a man like that."

His eyes lit up at those words and he tore himself away from her grip, staring down the friends. They were still holding hands. "She rides with you to the Little Palace, I won't be responsible for the death of the country's greatest hope, so if Miss Starkov trusts you...then so do I."

Reyka knew it was a lie. But from the look in his gaze when she mentioned his tracking skills, she thought her hypothesis was right. The Darkling needed a tracker, and Mal Oretsev had an exploitable weakness. "Miss Kovacs," His silky voice pulled her out of her thoughts, "You ride with me."

Her stomach twisted.