☼☼☼☼☼☼

ZOYA AND HER UNIT LEFT to prepare the new skiff the next day, leaving Reyka alone with only the Darkling and Ivan for company. A few of the oprichniki gave her wary looks as she passed through the camp, the bright blue of her kefta one of the only spots of color now that most of the second and first army had made their way to Kribirsk.

At first Reyka was put in charge of training new recruits, specifically Inferni and Squallers the same way Zoya had been, but about a week at that gig, she'd been reassigned.

There'd been nothing unusual about the request at first.

The Darkling had plenty more of Etherealki he could put to use even with Zoya gone, and Reyka knew from the gleam in his eye everytime they met that he was seeking her out for something completely different.

"You requested me?" She asked, hip cocked as she stood before the wooden desk. The Summoner was surrounded by parchment and papers, but yet everything was perfectly tidy. He didn't even look up as he responded, "Yes. How much war have you seen, Reyka?"

The sound of her name in his mouth made her skin crawl. But still she remained impassive. "Against Ravka or in general?"

He brought his gaze up to meet hers, furrowing his brows at her statement, "Have you been part of a war that I do not know about?"

Reyka stayed silent, biting down on her cheek as she mulled over her words. They'd just slipped out. They always tended to do that even back at the Little Palace. Mayakovsky had pressed her on the importance of choosing your words carefully, in learning double meanings so one was never left unarmed.

But subtlety had never been Reyka's strong suit. "I have been part of hundreds of wars, General."

The gleam in his eye was back and he gestured to the seat beside him. "Please," The Darkling's voice was soft, almost childlike, "Tell me."

It was an order not a request.

Reyka leaned back against the cushioned chair, the knot in her stomach growing heavier and heavier with each breath she took. "In here, surrounded by finery and Heartrenders and the King's favor, it's easy to believe that the only war is against the Ravkans." She remarked, bitterness coating her tongue, "But out there, beyond the ranks of Second Army and First Army there are a million wars being waged that you don't know about." Reyka pressed her lips into a thin line, recalling the group of Kerch immigrants that had found their way into Os Alta at one point. Most of them were Suli. Her people. And most of them bore the mark of slavers on their wrists.

The Darkling leaned forward, his fingertips brushing against hers, his voice low and concerned, "So tell me."

"Why?" Reyka asked, red hot blood boiling in her veins, "So you can go straight to the King and label me a traitor?"

He gritted his teeth, "So I know who our enemies are."

She pushed the chair up, head held high as she stared down at him. There weren't many times when Reyka felt powerful, but standing here above the General of the army the king had sent to certain death, she could feel her own power pulsing in her bones, expanding outward through her fingertips and grasping onto the air. She knew what happened next.

So instead she focused her breath, just like Mayakovsky had taught her.

One breath in...hold...one breath out.

The cold sucked itself back into her, taking refuge in the warm body she'd been taught to nurture and take care of. The body her small science fed.

The Darkling narrowed his gaze at her, that slate grey color reminding her of Grisha steel. "I am not the King's lapdog," He growled, the same cold look he'd worn when he met her slipping over his features again, "I fight for Ravka."

Reyka pursed her lips, the veins in her neck popping out as she continued her breathing exercises. She slammed her hands down on the table, breathing heavy as her gaze never left the General's. "The enemy is Ravka." She muttered, and pushed herself toward the open tent flap, storming out as fast as she could.

Her heart was pounding, the air around her was shaking, and once again the cold descended over her, nearly invisible flurries dancing around her.

The self-righteousness was insufferable and for a moment Reyka couldn't blame the West for wanting their own independence. Away from the prying eyes of King Pyotr and his Fjerdan wife. Away from the needless war that had been raging on longer than any of them could remember.

Away from the persecution her brothers and sisters faced. Reyka's mind went to her tiny little village, wondering how many of them had been tested since she'd left. How many of them had been stolen from their homes and forced to serve. Whether it was a lazy King and a vain Queen or a haughty Madame across the Unsea.

Her people needed her, and here she was fighting for the very system that had screwed them over in the first place. Bile gathered in her stomach. If this skiff made it across the Fold, she'd desert. It was the only way out, she rationalized.

She may not be able to help the Grisha over here, but she could help the Suli out west.

"You look like you could use a drink,"

Reyka relaxed when she recognized the voice, Zoya was standing in front of her, smirk on her face and arms crossed.

She shook her head and chuckled, "I thought your unit was headed west," Reyka retorted, pulling her friend in for a close hug. Zoya let out a sigh.

"The General wants me here. The twins are leading the unit now," the Squaller explained, a reluctant expression falling over her face. "I'll be joining them in a few days. Kirigan wants to discuss the schematics of the skiff first." Zoya tensed as she said his name. Everyone knew who he was. There was little who didn't know. But he was still a General. Which meant he had to be called by his name even when he wasn't around.

But Reyka would always know him as the Darkling. A name didn't change who he was. A man who worked in the shadows, always seeking the sunlight.

He'd never reach it, she decided.

"Come on," Reyka hung her arm around Zoya's shoulder, "Let's go get that drink."

The Suli girl chuckled and followed her into their tent where Reyka poured them both strong glasses of kvas, settling into the comfortable seats while Zoya continued to rant about how ill-prepared the Inferni were to enter the Fold.

"The Squallers are perfectly fine, I have no doubt in their abilities," Zoya let out an exhausted sigh, "But the Inferni just cannot grasp the concept of minimal casualties. Every dummy we use ends up incinerated and lighting another three on fire."

Reyka let out a pitiful laugh, unable to hold back the joyful sound at the perturbed look on Zoya's face. The Squaller's blue eyes locked with hers. "It's not funny, Rey."

Her chuckle morphed into full blown laughter and she threw her head back. It only made Zoya angrier. "It's not!" She huffed.

Reyka shrugged, "It is a little bit. I mean, remember when you accidentally blew up Queen Tatiana's skirts during your first demonstration at the fete?" The memory made Zoya blush and the beautiful Squaller was once again speechless. Reyka shook her head and leaned forward, the kvas burning down her throat as she gulped it away. "They're still children Zoya. No amount of training can change that."

Zoya seemed to consider her words. Reyka wondered if she'd been just as irritable when she was Zoya's age. Before she'd learned that war tasted like more than blood and dirt and shadow. Before she'd realized that no matter how powerful she grew, she would still be under the thumb of someone more powerful than her.

A slave.

Before she'd learned how to slice a man in two with frozen moisture condensed in the air. "What's got you so upset?" Zoya finally asked, downing her glass.

Reyka sighed and stood up, moving to fill her cup again, "Everything," She mused, "Nothing. The Second Army. Mayakosvky-"

"The General," Zoya cut her off. The woman had made her way over to where the bottle was, a sympathetic look on her face. Reyka sighed and took a drink. That was all the confirmation she would give.

"He's an enigma," Reyka admitted, "He requests me specifically, without knowing what I can do or alerting anyone else as to why and then he gives me these measly assignments to tide me over until he gets bored." She took another gulp and set her cup down, collapsing onto one of the comfortable cushions, cheek in her palm. Zoya only smirked at her.

"No one knows what the General intends." She explained, a darkness clouding her usually bright eyes, "The day we do is the day the Shadow Fold falls."

Reyka found herself agreeing with that assessment.

She moved to get another drink when the tent flap went flying open, The Darkling standing there in all his glory, the buttons on his black kefta gleaming in the candlelight. "Zoya," His voice was stern, but his gaze never left Reyka's, "Leave us."

The two women shared furrowed brows but Zoya pressed her hands behind her back and bowed, following the oprichniki outside, leaving Reyka alone with her commander.

"Look like they were right," Reyka quipped, pouring herself another glass of kvas, "Privacy doesn't exist on the front."

The Darkling's hands fidgeted, slowly making his way over to her. Reyka narrowed her gaze as she watched the tension melt from his shoulders. "May I?"

She handed him the decanter, and sat back down in one of the chairs, never taking her eyes off the General. His jaw was clenched, she noticed, but something else hung over him. Even in his relaxed state, there was something that cloaked him like the shadows he controlled. "I believe I owe you an apology."

She found herself rendered speechless by his words, the man crossing his legs as he sat down across from her. "I did not know about the circumstances of your testing. If I had-"

"You what?" She cut him off, watching his eyes widen at the audacious move, "You would've approached me differently? You wouldn't have asked the Suli girl about war?"

He studied her for a moment, curiosity clouding his eyes, "Most of your kind would be happy to leave a life of squalor behind to train at the Little Palace. Zoya never mentions it at all."

Reyka scoffed and leaned forward, taking another gulp of her drink, "That's because they didn't grow up Suli," She swallowed, tasting ash in her mouth at the words. They were all one people, regardless of upbringing. It felt a betrayal. She wanted to take the words back as soon as she said them, and nervously tapped her fingers against the cup. "You asked me if I had ever seen war."

The Darkling lifted a brow at her callback to their earlier conversation. "Have you?"

Reyka clenched her teeth together, the knot in her stomach sinking deeper into her gut, weighing her down like it did back at the Little Palace. "Did you know that when I first came to Os Alta they wouldn't let me touch anything that wasn't wooden? Too afraid I'd steal away with something precious in the night or I'd carve it into a shiv and make my escape." Her chest constricted and her laugh was hollow, "I had to beg Mayakovksy for my own room. And still even after I'd gotten my kefta they treated me like an animal. Because I was a girl who had spent the first eight years of her life learning that the only way to survive was to sell yourself and move on."

Something shifted in the Darkling's grey eyes, but he said nothing. "It's the first lesson every Suli learns. The best way to live is to sell your talents. And if you have no talents then you run before the slavers catch you. War is all around you, Darkling. I see it every damn day."

Silence stood between the two of them.

Reyka eyed the man, trying to discern what exactly lay behind those slate colored hues. All she found was more curiosity, and perhaps, just a tiny bit of sympathy.

It was a strange feeling. Unloading everything she'd dealt with and not being treated with disdain or disbelief. Saints know how many times the Summoners had heard her complain about the hardships she'd endured before tuning her out.

Her violet eyes found the floor, staring at the dirt beneath her feet and picking at her kefta until finally, the general spoke.

"I see it too," His voice was barely above a whisper, the same bitterness dangling from his lips. "There are quite a few parallels between your people and the Grisha," He set his cup down on the table between them, peering through dark lashes with a sympathetic gaze, "It's unfortunate you have to bear the burden of being both."

Reyka nodded, continuing to say nothing.

The Darkling continued, "I do not have the power to liberate your people from the horrors they suffer from, but perhaps..." He paused, drawing her gaze toward his, "When we return to Os Alta, I can persuade the King to do so."

Reyka chuckled and shook her head, no mirth in her tone, "Not even you have that kind of power, Darkling."

"Kirigan, please," He cut her off, shoulders tensing everytime she used his title, "And you're right I don't. But if we find a way through the Fold perhaps I will."

Her eyes narrowed at the man before her, his youthful face betraying nothing of his true age. No one knew exactly how old he was, but he'd been serving the King long before Reyka had been stolen away. His pale skin against the coal black of his slicked hair reminded her of the moon against the night sky, his grey eyes two dark craters that had seen more than their fair share of war.

And the shadow that hung over him...

It called out to her, begging her to explore it further. She held herself back and instead asked a question that had been tugging on her mind since she appeared in Kribirsk. "Why am I here?"

The Darkling sighed and stood up, staring down at her, "Because I needed a Tidemaker."

Reyka smirked, squinting at the General, "There are plenty of Tidemakers at the Little Palace. Why am I here?"

His lips tightened again and he fidgeted with his hands. "Despite what you think, the Second Army trusts you. And that is valuable to me in ways you can't even imagine."

Reyka leaned back against the chair, the edges of her lips drawing themselves into a small smirk. "You need a spy," She replied, his fidgeting all the confirmation she needed. "You want me to report on my own people."

"I thought we weren't your people," The Darkling challenged.

Reyka arched an eyebrow and lifted her glass in silent surrender.

☼☼☼☼☼☼

KETTERDAM WAS JUST AS CORRUPT as it had been the last time Perse had visited its shores. Scantily clad women hung themselves over richly dressed men, and she swore she caught a few foreign diginitaries among those paying for their services. She let out scoff of disgust and turned back to her watch.

"Late, as always," She muttered.

"Who is?"

Perse jumped at the sight of her commander, still getting used to his new appearance. This time he'd chosen dark curls and bright blue eyes, blending in with the other residents of Kerch almost seamlessly. The tailor they'd recruited was certainly talented.

"My bonehead brother," Perse muttered aloud, the dark-haired boy giving her a mischievous look.

"I didn't know you had a brother," He smirked, hanging his arm around her shoulder, "Perhaps I should disappear then, don't want to upset the in-laws."

Perse rolled her eyes at the boy's antics. "You wish, volk." She spoke in perfect Ravkan, surprising her commander, who gracefully disappeared into the hull of the ship without so much as a whisper.

A few minutes later the dock creaked and Perse crossed her arms. "Took you long enough."

Her cloaked brother emerged from the shadows, his hair perfectly messed up and twirling his dumb revolvers in his hands before holstering them.

"Thanks for the warm welcome sis," Jesper spoke dryly, engulfing her in one of his famous embraces. When they pulled away form each other Jesper made an approving face. "Nice hair color."

The bleached locks had become part of her. They weren't healthy by any means, but they were hers. "Thanks." Something flickered in the shadows behind Jesper and Perse furrowed her brows before locking eyes with her twin. His hands rested on his pistols. "What did you do?" She asked, already recognizing the look crossing his face.

Jesper's mouth dropped open in offense, "I resent that. What makes you think-"

He shut himself up when he met Perse's scrutinizing look. They'd never been able to keep things from each other. Their father had pressed the importance of sticking together, of telling each other everything.

Besides, Perse and Jesper always knew when the other was lying. No heartrender needed.

Jesper let out a sigh and tightened his grip on his pistols, sending his sister a look. She recognized it. It was the look he wore when he was in over his head.

"We need a heartrender for a job." Jesper explained, his tone shifting from something playful to more serious. Perse shut her eyes in resigned silence. "It's a million kruge, Pers. Enough to get you back home."

She tilted her head and lifted her brows, "And what about you? You gonna gamble it away?"

Jesper looked away, reigning himself to another lecture as his legs continued to shake. Perse didn't waste any more time, "You know there's a remedy for that right?"

"And you know why I don't pursue that right?" Jesper shot back at her, making shame creep into her bones at the memory. Their mother's dead body before their eyes, their father urging Jesper to remain hidden, to never give in to the call that their mother had answered. Perse exhaled and mirrored her brother's stance, cocking her hip as her hand dangled lazily over her own pair of pistols.

They weren't as nice as Jesper's, no pearl handles or special bullets. But they were hers and they were almost exactly like the ones her mother used to shoot. "Just tell me what the job is and I'll let you borrow Tamar for an hour."

"About that..."

His apologetic look did nothing to restore Perse's confidence in him. "Don't tell me-"

"We need Tamar to figure out what the job is."

Perse shook her head. "You're impossible."

Jesper shrugged.

Despite her reservations, Perse and Tamar were now following Jesper through the dimly lit streets of Ketterdam, Sturmhond only letting his prized heartrender out his sight as long as his right hand woman was by her side. So now here she was, following her brother through the corrupt and gang ridden streets of the merchant capital, grip tightening on her pistols while Tamar's rested on the axes by her side, ready to draw them if she needed to. And she very well might need to. Especially in Kerch.

"Is your brother always this vague about his intentions?" The Shu woman asked, gesturing toward Perse's reckless twin, who was now leading them into the nicer part of Ketterdam.

Perse nodded and let out a frustrated sigh, "Unfortunately, yes."

Tamar made a face and looked between the two siblings, "I think it's clear who got the brain cells in the family."

"You know I can hear you right?" Jesper whirled around, sending the two women a look as they crossed onto lands they certainly didn't belong on. Perse shrugged as if to say 'she's right' and Jesper groaned.

"There you are," A Suli girl dressed in black approached the group, "What took you so long?"

"Didn't realize we had a time limit," Jesper complained. Something hard hit the earth and a cane appeared in the hands of a pale man in gloves.

"Dreesen needs the heartrender before midnight," The boy with the cane spoke urgently, but his face betrayed nothing. His gaze flickered over toward Perse and Tamar, "Who's this?"

"Ah right," Jesper moved to pull in his sister for an embrace, "Perse, this is Kaz and Inej, I work with them. Kaz and Inej, this is Perse, my sister."

"Sister?" Inej asked, eyes wide. Perse wasn't surprised. Until today, the crew hadn't known she'd had a brother either. Jesper shrugged.

"And the other girl?" Kaz asked, using his cane to gesture.

Perse cut Tamar off, knowing that she'd say something that would definitely piss of Kaz And that was the last thing Perse wanted. "This is your Heartrender. She's only here for the hour, so I'd suggest you move quickly."

Kaz's brow rose and he whirled around, Inej following him and Jesper taking up the rear. Perse and Tamar shared another look.

"We're gonna regret this aren't we?" She asked.

Tamar nodded and the two followed the trio into the darkness.