At the end of the month, screams could be heard throughout the top floor of the Little Palace, mostly coming from within the Darkling's war room. The oprichniki had already taken bets on how long it would last, and most of the Second Army didn't even seem that bothered by it.

Perhaps because it hadn't been the first time Reyka Kovacs had yelled at the General and it certainly would not be the last.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Her chest heaved up and down, fists clenched together hard enough for a dull ache to settle in her muscles. "You're sending me on a wild goose chase? The same wild goose chase I called you out on not two weeks ago?"

The Darkling sighed and hung his head between his arms, "I have all the faith in the saints that you will make it back alive."

His voice was weary, as if he'd rehearsed the same words in the mirror over and over again. Reyka scoffed mirthlessly, "Great, the faithless Darkling turning to the saints, that makes me feel so much better." Her words were bitter and resentful, much like the rest of her these past couple weeks. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt anything else.

"I'm not faithless," He protested, meeting her gaze. For a moment she thought she saw that lonely boy who'd appeared in her room make an appearance. But it faded. He turned his gaze back to the war table, "Not yet anyway."

Reyka scoffed, "So that's it? You're not even gonna hear me out?"

"I don't need to," He spoke assuredly, straightening up from his position. His footsteps echoed through the empty room, kefta swirling around his legs, "You are a member of the Second Army, and under my command," slate stared into violet, "And therefore if I tell you to go on a wild goose chase," His lips spat out the phrase bitterly, "then you shall go."

She huffed, blowing a stray curl from her forehead. "Have fun seducing a teenager," She growled, turning on her heel and storming out of the room, not even able to relish the sheer shock and anger that had begun to form on the Darkling's face as she did so.

This was insanity.

Even if the Stag did exist, there was no reason to use it when Alina was already starting to get further ahead in her training.

But none of it mattered anyway, cause she was a soldier and she would do as she was told. Or at least, she would if it meant keeping her spot as a highly respected member of the Second Army.

"You look happy," Zoya's voice interrupted her thoughts, her deadpan tone seemed to match Reyka's attitude and both girls huffed as they continue to walk toward the training pavilion.

"Ecstatic," Reyka replied, rolling her eyes.

Zoya smirked and turned toward her friend, "What'd Kirigan do this time?"

Reyka froze in her tracks, biting down on her tongue to keep herself from accidentally freezing over the courtyard again. "He's sending me to find Morozova's Stag," She gestured mockingly, as if it were some great honor instead of the slight it was intended to be.

Zoya's mouth dropped open, "Saints, is he serious?"

Reyka nodded and crossed her arms, biting down on her cheek. "I can't believe this. It's not only a terrible plan, but he gets to sit up there while we risk our lives for a girl we hardly even know."

She watched Zoya's face burn at the mention of the Sun Summoner, and Reyka knew she'd chosen the right person to confide in.

"I can't believe he's getting the Stag for her," The Squaller's words were bathed in jealousy and anger, hands clenched into fists.

Reyka sighed and put her hand on her hip, "I'm tempted to lead them the wrong way," She admitted, "Go off on my own and abandon the otkazatsya to the wolves."

Zoya's laughter comforted her, providing relief where there had been none. "Oh please do. Or..." Her stormy blue gaze lit up like the sky, "Find the Stag, but kill it yourself. Take the power in your own hands."

Reyka chuckled at the thought, her nose scrunching up slightly at the thought of wearing another animal's bones around her neck forever. "As appealing as that sounds..." She began, taking Zoya's hand in hers, examining the bracelet of tiger teeth, "I'd rather you have it. After all, we've seen what you can do with one amplifier, how about two?"

Zoya's eyes widened and her smile died for a moment. "You can't be serious. No one can have two amplifiers."

Reyka shrugged, recalling the lessons Mayakovsky had once taught her, "Sankta Ilya did."

"Yes," Zoya pulled her hands out of Reyka's, "And he was thrown into the river soon after. What? You don't want it?"

The girl's eyes widened at the thought, as if unable to believe that Reyka didn't wish to possess that much power.

Reyka shrugged again, "I don't need it. I have no interest in growing my power any further," She stared up at the shining sun before meeting Zoya's gaze again, "I'm strong enough without Morozova's Stag. It'd just be a useless husk around my neck."

Zoya's chuckle was soft and small, but she appreciated the sound nonetheless, "Reyka Kovacs, you continue to surprise me."

She hunched her shoulders upward in an innocent shrug, a playful smile on her lips. The Squaller pressed a kiss to her cheek in goodbye, sauntering off toward the training pavilion for her lesson.

Reyka exhaled deeply and began to travel the opposite direction, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. She knew where she was headed, there were few who would bother her this far up, few Grisha believing in the Saints long enough to spend more than a few minutes in the chapel.

It was a small thing, cramped and barely able to fit more than thirty people, but it had been all she had once. The one place she could retreat when life felt like it was crashing in on her.

She needed it again.

Lighting one of the matches, she brought it to the wick of the candle settled before the stained glass portrait of Sankta Marya. It was the Saint Reyka was the most familiar with, having prayed to her many times when her mother had gotten sick their first month assimilating into Ravka.

The memory tugged at Reyka's chest as she knelt before the icon, eyes watering from both the smell surrounding her and the image of her smiling mother, singing her to sleep in a language Reyka didn't even know anymore.

Was she alive?

Was Papa alive?

She reached into the pocket stitched into her kefta, pulling out the colorful gauze she'd carried with her every moment of every day. The bright dyes had faded from overuse, and the edges were frayed, still it kept her warm when nothing else did.

Reyka pressed the garment to her nose, breathing in the familiar smell of spices and must. Every sniff she took the scent faded, but she didn't care. Fifteen years. Fifteen years she'd been forced into a life she never wanted.

Fifteen years she'd been separated from her family, never allowed so much as a visit. She fisted the cloth tighter and made the sign of the faith across her chest, pressing her fingers to her lips soon afterward.

Like she'd seen the elders do.

Like she'd seen her mother do.

Take me to them, she prayed, take me home.

And like always, the Saints remained silent.

***

A month into her training at the Little Palace Alina had her first fighting lesson. Most of her lessons had been just her and Baghra, the old woman hitting her with her cane and verbally tearing her down until Alina could summon a ball of light in her hands.

It was demeaning and destroyed any confidence she had in her abilities.

Perhaps Botkin would treat her differently.

Maybe it would be easier.

Mal had taught her a little bit when it came to defending herself, that should come in handy right?

She stepped into the pavilion, the two oprichniki that followed her wherever she went disappearing as she did. She knew she should be flattered that the Darkling had her under protection from dawn until dusk, but Alina couldn't shake the feeling that there was more at work than just making sure she was safe.

Reyka had told her that they were all prisoners when it came to the royal family, perhaps the Darkling viewed her the same way. She was a prisoner here, kept alive by the grace of the royal family.

She gulped as she remembered the Tidemaker's words.

"Sun Summoner!" A strict voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she faced Botkin, Nadia and Marie quickly appearing on either side of her as everyone halted their training to get a better look at her. Botkin was a stout man, dressed in red robes but no kefta. The knot in Alina's throat grew as she realized that he was Shu. Full Shu, not half like her. Had he been stolen? Or was this punishment for his people experimenting on the grisha? To train the very people his country despised. She didn't have much time to think on that question, mostly cause her thoughts were interrupted again, "All of Ravka's foes want to kill you before you can destroy the Fold. It's a great honor to have so many enemies."

Alina's eyes widened and she nodded slowly, as if she agreed with him. It certainly wasn't an honor when she'd been dragged out of the carriage and nearly killed by a Fjerdan, but to each their own she guessed.

"A very warm greeting." She muttered in Marie's ear.

The brunette rolled her eyes and linked her arm with Alina's. "He's always like this," She whispered.

Botkin never took his eyes off her, "You must learn to defend yourself fast." He arched a brow her direction, "Do you know how to fight?"

Alina smirked and paused, deep in thought, "I've had some training." It wasn't a lie. Mal had taken her out several times before anyone woke up when they'd been stationed together and intsructed her on the basics. How to throw a punch, how to fight dirty, the stance once should have. Granted, she may not have been paying that much attention because of the warmth of his arms around hers and his hands rearranging her fingers to make sure they didn't break, but she retained some information.

Botkin looked moderately impressed, but not enough to make her feel good. He gestured to the group of experienced Grisha behind him. "Show me. Pick an opponent."

Alina cocked her head and surveyed the group, trying to pick the weakest member to go against. That thought left her head when she caught sight of a familiar face. Blue eyes in a Suli face, a blue and grey kefta hanging off her shoulders. It was her. The Grisha who wanted to sleep with Mal, who kept flirting with him, who had done nothing but insult Alina since she showed up in Kribirsk.

Alina's hand never wavered as she pointed in the Grisha's direction, "Her."

The Grisha didn't even looked surprised as she sauntered forward, abandoning her whispered conversation with a taller Inferni. Instead, she just looked eager.

"Zoya Nazyalensky," Botkin explained, a hint of pride in his voice, "I've been training her since she was ten."

The girl tucked her hands behind her back and cocked her head, not even a hint of fear in her eyes. "Care to back down?" She asked, the same arrogance that graced the Darkling's features written in hers.

Alina smirked in response, trying not to let her anger bleed through, "Not familiar with the concept."

She didn't care how talented this girl was at fighting or summoning. Alina only wanted to kick her face into the dirt.

Botkin stared at his two pupils, his face unreadable, "Fighters ready?" Both women took their stances, "And... fight!"

The two girls circled each other, watching each other's movements as Alina squinted at the Squaller. This was her chance to prove herself, and who better than against the girl who'd been nothing but rude to her since she arrived?

Alina could still hear Zoya's hiss in her ear as they embraced after her presentation to the king.

"You stink of the orphanage, perhaps you should go back."

Her fists clenched at the memory and she charged, her legs flailing as Zoya tripped her with ease, and suddenly Alina was staring up at the bright blue sky, Zoya's smirk plastered in her mind.

She pushed herself up and dusted herself off, readying her stance, "We go again."

The Squaller sighed and shifted her gaze toward Botkin, who nodded.

"Fight."

Alina charged, determined to land a hit on the girl, but even with her back turned, Zoya bested her.

Zoya grabbed her arm and threw her like a sack of butter, groans leaving Alina's mouth as the Squaller's knee pressed against her chest, something dancing in the other girl's eye. "Your tracker friend also liked it when I put him on his back." Zoya winked, and Alina's chest boiled.

She didn't know what possessed her. Anger? Jealousy? Something else entirely? Alina's fist collided with Zoya's jaw and the girl reeled, spinning her around until her back was facing Alina. She could see the Squaller's shoulders puff up and down, matching her heavy breaths as they echoed through the pavilion.

The wind picked up and the thrust of hands sent Alina flying, her back colliding into the wall behind her.

She saw black and then...soft fur entered her vision, a wet snout nudging Alina's cheek, but she never saw what the animal was. Instead, her eyes fluttered open, meeting the concerned faces of Nadia and Marie.

"Are you okay?" Marie quickly asked, eyes wide and mouth open in shock, "Please be okay."

Her vision blurred for a moment and then everything came back into focus. Nadia held out her hand, and Alina grabbed it, the two girls pulling her up and helping her dust off the hay from the barrel she'd been shot into.

Nadia shook her head, "I can't believe she did that."

"She's just jealous." Marie assured Alina, squeezing her shoulder. Somehow, Alina didn't believe the girl's assessment. "Can't bear the idea of anyone else being favored by General Kirigan."

Alina's gaze flitted toward the Squaller, who was currently getting an earful from Botkin. She thought about Reyka and her relationship with Kirigan, creasing her brows. Zoya and Reyka were friends even though Reyka was favored by the General, and there'd never been the same animosity between them that there was with her. Alina watched with a curious eye as Botkin pushed Zoya toward the Little Palace, the two women connecting gazes.

The Squaller's jaw clenched along with her fists and she held her head eye as she continued to stride forward with the same spiteful arrogance she'd worn since that day in the General's tent.

She missed the conversation between Nadia and Marie, and faced the two girls again. Nadia smiled, "Shall we take you in to get you checked?" The girl asked. Alina shook her head.

She didn't want anyone to know about her mistake, especially after a month of training. Besides, she wanted to have her own conversation with her tormentor.

"I can make my own way in. Thank you." Alina pushed her way through the two girls, dusting the hay off her kefta as she clenched her jaw, following Zoya's footsteps. The Squaller had done nothing but make her life hell since she'd arrived.

She caught up to the Grisha in the hall near the library, cocking her hip as she called out, "What did I ever do to you?"

Zoya froze, shoulders tensed and hands clenching into fists. She whirled around, blue eyes narrowed at Alina as she strode forward. "You mean aside from punching me in the face?"

Any courage Alina had disappeared under the scathing gaze of the Squaller. The lump in her throat returned, unable to disappear no matter how many times Alina tried to swallow it.

"That was part of training," She explained away, hating how her voice quivered, "I had to hit you once."

Zoya's frown deepened "Once is all you get, so I hope you cherished it." Her tone remained the same spiteful ice it always had been. Alina wondered if anyone could break through that. If anything could melt the constant cold that surrounded her.

She shook her head, mouth popping open at the disdainful glare Zoya kept sending her. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Zoya said nothing, just stared at her. The lump in her throat grew bigger. "I've been doing this since I was ten years old," She spoke up, voice hard and thick, "I earned my spot, I earned the favor I was given. You didn't."

The lump dislodged in Alina's throat as she watched Zoya walk away from her, stumbling back toward the library. She stared down at the scar etched across her palm. She needed to find Mal. She needed to fall into his arms and soak in the comfort he gave her.

Her footsteps echoed down the hall, eyes scanning each and every door for any sign of him.

"Miss Starkov."

Alina whipped around to face the voice who had called her name, coming face to face with one of the Darkling's personal guards, his all black ensemble seeming out of place against the pale white and blue walls. She raised her brows in annoyance. What did he want now?

"General Kirigan requests your presence immediately."

Alina creased her brow, "Tell him I'm busy," She turned around and found herself pulled back, the oprichniki's arm around her bicep. She was getting really tired of the guards pulling the same tricks on her.

"You cannot refuse a direct summons." He explained, eyes widening.

Alina ripped her bicep out of his hand, "I'm the Sun Summoner," She spoke with the same air of arrogance that she'd seen Zoya use, "I have more important things to do than entertain a schoolboy crush."

The oprichniki could only stare at her.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and continued down the hallway, a smirk drawing itself across her features.