YOU CAN'T BE THAT BAD.

Lysander wasn't at dinner, something Alina noticed right away. But her plan to bring her food was foiled by the line cook who wouldn't serve her simply because she was Shu. So, Alina dragged her feet, empty-handed as she found Lysander up in a watch tower, looking out sadly at the Fold.

"There you are," Alina said, climbing up to meet her. "You usually hide lower down."

Lysander shrugged, staring down at her fingers as she picked at them. "You're more comfortable higher up. Knew you'd come," she said softly.

Alina reached for her hands to keep her from picking at the skin around her nails nervously. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Tears welled in Lysander's eyes. "Not particularly," she murmured. "Can we just sit?"

"Of course," she said softly, pulling Lysander closer.

She let the younger girl lean her head on her shoulder, hoping she couldn't hear the pounding in her heart beneath her First Army uniform. Many nights were spent wrapped up in each other's arm, but Alina was fearing that this was the last time it'd ever happened. Given the bleak life they'd lived, neither was particularly good at looking on the bright side.

"You'll be okay," Alina whispered, kissing the top of Lysander's hair. "You'll just have to be."

The pair sat in silence for a while longer before Mal broke it, climbing up to meet them. He had an easy smile on his face, trying to hide his own nerves to bring them some comfort.

"I found you," he said.

"You always do, somehow," Alina murmured.

"Well, it's not hard, you always perch. Lysander burrows."

"I'm brooding," Alina informed him, sniffling a bit.

"Well, I have something for you both," he said before producing a glass bowl full of fresh grapes. Lysander's eyes went wider unable to believe it. She couldn't remember the last time she had fruit that wasn't turning sour.

"Where did you get these?" Alina asked in alarm as Lysander hesitantly reached for one, almost scared that the Lieutenant would appear and take it from her.

"I stole them," Mal said, surprising the girls.

"From a Grisha tent?" Alina laughed.

"I thought it would get me an invitation to jail, but it just got me an invitation to tumble with a Grisha," he joked, making Alina snicker.

"You tumbled a Grisha?" Lysander asked, her cheeks going pink as they always did when someone mentioned anything remotely intimate, something she was wholly inexperienced with.

"No. No, I just flirted with her. Maybe she flirted with me," he shrugged. "Look, Grisha women scare me. Okay?"

Alina rolled her eyes playfully before splitting the grapes with Lysander . Actually, she made sure Lysander had a few more than she did.

After eating a few, Lysander looked up nervously at Mal. "Did you see the Lieutenant?"

He looked down. "Yeah."

"And?" Alina asked hopefully.

"Well... turns out they do need me. So..."

"And Lyssa?" Alina asked, growing even more anxious. "They never have cartographer's cross the Fold."

At that, Mal sighed heavily, avoiding eye contact. "They need... a cartographer that's not as valued. One that can ensure that our maps match their maps. So..."

Silence fell over the three, all knowing that when morning came, they'd be separated from Alina.

"I could shoot you in the foot," Alina offered half-heartedly.

"You're a terrible shot," Mal reminded her. "Almost as bad as Lys. She'd end up shooting me in the face."

Alina then took in a deep breath and looked out at the Fold. Lysander caught how her eyes were shining, so she leaned further into her chest.

"Don't cross it," she pleaded suddenly.

Mal sighed and shook his head, looking at the darkness. "When I was young, I had nightmares about it. Going in. Finding my parents... still dead. Waiting for me. Well, orders are orders."

"Very comforting, Mal," Lysander murmured, rolling her eyes.

"If it goes wrong, come back. You've both lost enough to it already," Alina told them.

Lysander moved her head to look up at Alina, her eyes shining. "I'll find my way back to you. Promise."

For half a moment, Alina let herself dream. Dream of glancing at Lysander's pouty, pink lips and kissing them with her own chapped ones. She dreamt of holding her in her arms all night long, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She dreamt of running away with her, deserting the war effort to get away from the Fold.

But then Mal had to go and ruin it with his mouth.

"But first, I am going gambling in Ketterdam."

Alina chuckled and tore her gaze away from Lysander's face. "Without me?"

Mal just sighed and smiled. "I'll write you a letter. Lyssa can draw you horrid pictures of the streets of Ketterdam."

"My pictures aren't horrid!" she scoffed, reaching to shove him a bit.

"Well, they don't belong in museums either."

✵︎

It was still late — too late to be awake — but Lysander was wandering the streets of the silent camp. Everyone was asleep, all waiting for the sun to rise in a few hours.

She'd laid next to Alina for a good hour in their tent, and her friend had no trouble falling asleep, unlike her. Lysander slipped out of her arms and began walking around the camp. It looked different at night — scarier.

Or maybe she just scared easily.

After a while of walking, she found a large tree stump that she could lean against, drawing her knees up to her chest as she looked out at the Fold. It looked even more imposing in the night air, her nearly flinching each time the lightning inside hit. And the growls of the Volcra never ceased, the creatures always awake and waiting for a new prey.

Tomorrow, she'd be that prey.

To bring her some comfort, and because she was far enough a way from the tents to not disturb anyone, she softly hummed a lullaby under her breath. It was the one Alina would sing to her any time there was a thunder storm at the orphanage. The words were in Old Ravkan, and Lysander didn't understand the language despite Mal and Alina trying to teach her. Alina always told her it was a song about the Fold being created though.

"It's a lovely tune," an unfamiliar and deep voice said as she hummed the last note.

Lysander flinched and turned her head, not having heard the man as he approached her. He moved as silent as the shadows, it seemed.

The man was dressed all in black, and based on how nice the dark shirt he wore was, she knew he was Grisha even without a kefta on for protection. No one in the First Army had nice things.

"You startled me," she said, trying to calm her racing heart as she studied the handsome man.

He had a neatly trimmed beard and black hair that was combed back — though one strand fell on his forehead, making her wonder if he'd been running his hands through it. Almost as if he could sense her thoughts, he reached up and smoothed it back out of the way.

"That wasn't my intention," he said, speaking softly. "I just didn't expect anyone else to be up at this hour."

"Trouble sleeping," she simply answered. "And you?"

"Oh, I'm always up at night," he said, dark eyes scanning her delicate features. "You're in the First Army?"

"And you're in the Second," she replied with a small smile. Then she studied his form a bit more closely. He seemed strong and commanding — like an Inferni. "I know I shouldn't be by your tents. I'll be heading back now. I just wanted a look at the Fold."

"I could walk you back," he found himself offering, which he found strange. Since when did the likes of him offer to walk a Otkazat'sya through the dark camp? But even still, he didn't retract his offer.

"That's very kind of you," she said with a smile while getting to her feet.

He nodded his head, signaling for her to lead the way since he didn't know what tent she was in. It took her a moment to figure out which direction to go in — she didn't have the same talented tracking skills as Mal. But once she set off, he followed closely next to her, his hand hovering over her lower back but not touching her.

"Why would you want to look out at the Fold if you're having trouble sleeping?" he questioned, keeping his voice low so as to not disturb the others around them. "Seems... counterproductive."

"I agree," she admitted. "I think it only made me feel worse. But I'll never be able to go through it tomorrow if I don't try and be braver about it."

"What are they sending a thing like you into the Fold for?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. To him, the girl looked rather weak and unassuming — not to mention beautiful, but that wasn't really related. "Are you one of their medics?"

She scrunched her nose up, and he found the corners of his lips turning in a barely there smile, thinking the expression was rather adorable. "No, I can't stand blood. But you have the honor of speaking to the most expendable mapmaker in camp."

"Oh, truly, you can't be that bad," he encouraged her.

Lysander just laughed anxiously. "I am that bad. But don't worry. I'm sure the Volcra will cower as I wield my charcoal."

Though she was smiling, he could see the fear in her eyes. "Don't be scared. I'm sure the Grisha will ensure that you arrive in Novokribirsk safely."

"I'm sure they're very talented," she said, trying to look on the bright side. "My friend Mal says there's going to be Inferni going with us. They'll protect us because the Saints know I'm useless with a rifle."

"And with a pencil, it seems," he said almost teasingly. Then he drew his eyebrows in together, studying her worried expression, seeing how scared she really was. "The Fold is nothing for you to fear."

She peered at his wrist, not seeing any scars marring his skin, a sign he'd never crossed himself. But rather than point that out, she just smiled gratefully for his comfort. He was being nicer than she thought Grisha typically were. He was trying his best to ease her worries in a horrible situation.

"Well, hey, at least I'll get to be the first to test out the new skiff," she said, looking on the bright side. "I've heard it's something for your General to be proud of. I mean, he has plenty to be proud of, least of all a sandskiff, but still."

"Really?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "What's he to be proud of?"

"Well, of protecting all of your kind, of course," she said softly. "I may not know much about Grisha, but he's made it safe for you. The history books speak of locking you in cages and now you've got the Little Palace to keep you safe and warm. That's what he should really be proud of."

The man was silent for a moment, thinking over his words. "I'm sure he'd appreciate hearing that sentiment from an Otkazat'sya."

"We don't all hate you, I'll have you know," she told him with a soft smile. Then she came to a stop just a few yards away from a familiar tent. "This is me."

"I hope you manage to rest some," he told her, nodding his head a bit. "I didn't catch your name."

"It's Lysander," she replied, backing toward the tent with a playful smile. "And yours?"

He nearly matched her smile before catching himself. "Maybe another time."

"If I survive," she couldn't help but murmur under her breath.

"You'll survive," he assured her. "Ravka needs a mapmaker of your skills."

Lysander giggled and shook her head before slipping inside the tent, leaving him behind in the darkness. And as Lysander climbed into her bedroll next to Alina, she found her heart was still racing from anxiousness.

One of the trademarks of her personality was that she didn't open up around strangers. She was quiet and stuck to the wall in social situations. So, to have opened up and spoken so easily with the man whose name she didn't even know was shocking. But he was so easy to talk to even for a Grisha.

And little did she know, he was still standing outside the tent, looking at the closed flaps with a curious expression. Because Saints, what had overcome him and compelled him to walk her back to her tent? To reassure her when he sensed her fear? To ask for her name?

A man like him had no business talking with a girl like her.

✵

︎

Lysander thought it was silly that the Black General wouldn't walk through the camp like everyone else to get to the loading docks of the skiff. He rode in his fancy chariot, disturbing everyone in their mangy tents that were getting ready for the day. Lysander watched it get farther and farther away, hardly listening to her fellow cartographers that'd been in the process of telling her goodbye.

"Is it him? General Kirigan."

"The leader of the Second Army here to grace us with his presence?"

"He must believe the new skiff will be a shining success."

"Or a spectacular failure," Alexei muttered.

"Alexei," someone hissed.

"What?" he asked stupidly before looking at Mal and Lysander apologetically. "Sorry, Mal, Lyssa."

"Do you think he's coming with us?" Mal asked, looking to Lysander.

"I don't think so," she said softly. From what she knew of the Darkling, he didn't sound keen to cross the Fold. She wondered if it had something to do with his summoning ability. For half a seconds, she worried that it might affect hers as well if it were something negative.

"Are we children, or are we soldiers?" Lieutenant Bohdan snapped, breaking everyone's concentration off the carriage. "Get to your posts and pack your gear. Skiff launches in twenty. Sergeant, get your crew ready!"

The Sergeant came over with a smile on his face. "Mal, you're with me, son. Chin up. I've crossed it three times without incident," he said, holding up his wrist to show off the lines scarred on his arm, signifying that he'd been across the Fold and back three times, which was impressive. "You'll get your first soon enough."

"We don't have to get one, do we?" Lysander asked, paling at the sight. She was a bit of a baby when it came to injuries, even small ones.

The Sargent just smirked at her. "Oh, not even you can get out of it, Lysander."

Mal sighed and looked at Alina. "We'll be back before you know it."

"And I'll be here the whole time," she said sadly, looking at Lysander. "Me and the cartographers, I mean."

Mal pulled Alina into a hug and whispered in her ear. "I'll protect her. You know I will."

Once they parted, Alina pulled Lysander close, hiding her face in her neck as she held back tears. "You're going to come back."

"I'm going to come back," she repeated. "And I'll have so much to tell you. Just imagine the trouble Mal is going to cause."

"I can imagine," she said weakly.

"We've got to go, Alina," Mal said gently, easing Lysander out of her arms. "We'll see you when we get back, yeah?"

"Yeah," she murmured, not taking her eyes off Lysander.

Mal led Lysander toward the dock with a hand in the back of her shoulder. However, as soon as they reached it, they were intercepted by the Seargent.

"Not you, Karamazov," he said, his eyes wide. "Just got word. You're to meet the Lieutenant at the viewing station at the end of the docks."

"What?" she asked, her eyebrows shooting up. "But I've not got time to talk to—"

"Exactly, so go and get back quickly," he ushered her.

Casting one last uncertain look back at Mal, Lysander quickly made her way to the other end of the dock. There were several chairs set aside for the likes of the higher up officers to sit and watch as the skiff entered the Fold — like it was some kind of form of entertainment. And behind the chairs was a black tent, letting her know that the Black General was inside.

Lieutenant Bohdan was standing outside, a twisted look on his face. And he stood a bit straighter when he spotted Lysander.

"Karamazov," he barked, nodding for her to come closer. "You're to remain at camp while the skiff sails out."

It wasn't that Lysander wasn't grateful, but she was awfully confused. From the way Mal made it sound, they needed a mapmaker — and not a particularly good one incase things went south inside the Fold.

"Sir?" she questioned, fiddling with her fingers behind her back. "But my orders—"

"The General has ordered specifically that you're to stay behind in camp," he told her, making her eyes go wide. How the Black General knew her name, she'd never know. "He wants maps redrawn of Os Alta and requested you by name. You're to return with the Second Army to the Little Palace."

Lysander mouth fell open in disbelief. "Sir, I'm the worst mapmaker in my unit."

"Karamazov," he sighed, taking his hat off. "By the Saints, I don't know what you did, but you've been given a blessing. Don't squander it by asking questions."

✵︎

Lysander was anxious as she stood on the docks, watching the skiff with keen eyes, unable to make out Mal's form because of how far off it was. She was silent at first when Petya joined her side, but then Lysander noticed the lack of Alina, who would be so excited to know she was off the skiff. It was one less person to worry about.

"Petya," Lysander said quietly as the skiff was launched, disappearing into the darkness. "Where's Alina? And Alexei? I thought they wouldn't miss this, especially with Mal on the ship."

A guarded look was in Petya's aging eyes. "There was a fire, Lysander. We lost most of the maps from the other side of the Fold. The Lieutenant ordered the whole unit onto the skiff."

Lysander could feel her pulse quickening as she looked back at the Fold, the skiff long gone now. Not only was Mal on it, but so was Alina.

"No," she whispered, stepping forward, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Alina's not - she can't go in there!"

Petya grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, keeping her from running stupidly off the docks and causing a scene.

"Be grateful you're not with them, child," she muttered harshly. "And have faith that they'll make it through."

The only problem with that was Lysander had never been very faithful. She didn't pay attention to fairy stories or pray to saints that were long since dead. But then, in that moment, she'd have dropped to her knees and prayed to the Starless Saint himself if it meant her friends would survive.