Leigh Bardugo - Siege and Storm

The shelves were empty of books. The desk and dressing table were bare. All his possessions must have been taken away, probably burned or smashed to bits. I supposed I should have been glad the King hadn’t torn the entire Little Palace down.

I walked to the side of the bed and smoothed my hand over the cool fabric of the pillow. It was good to know that some part of him was still human, that he laid his head down to rest at night like everyone else. But could I really sleep in his bed, beneath his roof?

With a start, I realized that the room smelled like him. I had never even noticed that he had a scent. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply. What was it? The crisp edge of a winter wind. Bare branches. The smell of absence, the smell of night.

The wound at my shoulder prickled, and I opened my eyes. The doors to the chamber were shut. I hadn’t heard them close.

“Alina.”

I whirled. The Darkling was standing on the other side of the bed.

I clapped my hands over my mouth to stop my scream.

This isn’t real , I told myself. It’s just another hallucination. Just like on the Fold.

“My Alina,” he said softly. His face was beautiful, unscarred. Perfect.

I will not scream, because this isn’t real, and when they come running, there will be nothing to see.

He walked slowly around the bed. His footsteps made no sound.

I closed my eyes, pressed my palms against them, counted to three. But when I opened them again, he was standing right before me. I will not scream.

I took a step backward, felt the press of the wall behind me. A choked sound squeaked free of my throat.

I will not scream.

He reached out. He can’t touch me , I told myself. His hand will just pass through me like a ghost. It’s not real.

“You cannot run from me,” he whispered.

His fingers brushed my cheek. Solid. Real. I felt them.

Terror shot through me. I threw up my hands, and light blazed over the room in a brilliant wave that shimmered with heat. The Darkling vanished.

Footsteps clattered in the room outside. The doors were thrown open. Mal and the twins charged in, weapons in hand.

“What happened?” Tamar asked, scanning the empty room.

“Nothing,” I said, forcing the word past my lips, hoping my voice sounded normal. I buried my hands in the folds of my kefta to hide their trembling. “Why?”

“We saw the light and—”

“Just a bit gloomy in here,” I said. “All the black.”

They stared at me for a long moment. Then Tamar looked around. “It is pretty grim. You may want to think about redecorating.”

“Definitely on my list.”

The twins took another glance around the room and then headed out the door, Tolya already grumbling to his sister about dinner. Mal stood in the doorway, waiting.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

I knew he wouldn’t ask me to explain this time. He shouldn’t have had to. I should have offered him the truth without having to be asked. But what could I say? That I was seeing things? That I was mad? That we would never be safe, no matter how far we ran? That I was as broken as the Golden Dome, but something far worse than daylight had crept inside of me?

I stayed silent.

Mal gave a single shake of his head, then simply walked away.

I stood alone in the center of the Darkling’s empty rooms.

Call to him , I thought desperately. Tell him something. Tell him everything.

Mal was just a few feet away, on the other side of that wall. I could say his name, bring him back, and tell it all—what had happened on the Fold, what I’d almost done to Sergei, what I’d seen just moments before. I opened my mouth, but the same words came to me again and again.

I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream.

I WOKE THE NEXT DAYto the sound of angry voices. For a moment, I had no idea where I was. The darkness was near perfect, broken only by a thin crack of light from beneath the door.

Then reality returned. I sat up and fumbled for the lamp on the bedside wall. I turned up the flame and surveyed the dark silk bed hangings, the slate floor, the carved ebony walls. I really was going to have to make some changes. This room was just too depressing to wake up in. It was strange to think that I was actually in the Darkling’s chambers, that I’d spent the night in his bed. That I’d seen him standing in this very room.

Enough of that. I threw off the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I didn’t know whether the visions were a product of my imagination or some real attempt by the Darkling to manipulate me, but there had to be a rational explanation for them. Maybe the nichevo’ya bite had infected me with something. If that was the case, then I’d just have to find a way to cure it. Or maybe the effects would wear off with time.

The argument outside my door grew louder. I thought I recognized Sergei’s voice and Tolya’s angry rumble. I threw on the embroidered dressing gown that had been left for me at the foot of the bed, checked to make sure the fetter on my wrist was hidden, and hurried out to the common room.

I almost ran right into the twins. Tolya and Tamar were standing shoulder to shoulder, blocking a group of angry Grisha from entering my chamber. Tolya’s arms were crossed, and Tamar was shaking her head as Sergei and Fedyor loudly made their case. I was distressed to see Zoya beside them, accompanied by the dark-skinned Inferni who had challenged me the previous day. Everyone seemed to be talking at once.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

As soon as Sergei saw me, he strode forward, clutching a piece of paper in his hand. Tamar moved to block him, but I waved her off.

“It’s all right,” I said. “What’s the problem?” But I thought I already knew. I recognized my own writing and the remnants of the gold sunburst seal that Nikolai had provided for me on the paper Sergei was now shaking in my face.

“This is unacceptable,” Sergei huffed.

I’d sent out word the previous night that I would be convening a war council. Each Grisha Order was to elect two representatives to attend. I was pleased to see they’d chosen Fedyor as well as Sergei, though some of my good will wore off when the older Grisha chimed in.

“He’s right,” said Fedyor. “The Corporalki are the Grisha’s first line of defense. We’re the most experienced in military affairs and should be more fairly represented.”

“We’re just as valuable to the war effort,” declared Zoya, her color high. Even in a snit, she looked gorgeous. I’d suspected she would be chosen to represent the Etherealki, but I certainly wasn’t happy about it. “If there are going to be three Corporalki on the council,” she said, “then there should be three Summoners, too.”

Everyone started shouting again. I noted that the Materialki hadn’t shown up to complain. As the lowest Grisha Order, they were probably just glad to be included, or possibly they were too caught up in their work to be bothered.

I still wasn’t quite awake. I wanted my breakfast, not an argument. But I knew this had to be addressed. I intended to do things differently—and they might as well know just how differently or this effort would fall apart before it even began.

I held up my hand and they quieted instantly. Clearly, I had that trick down. Maybe they were afraid I was going to ruin another ceiling. “There will be two Grisha from each Order,” I said. “No more, no less.”

“But—” began Sergei.

“The Darkling has changed. If we have any hope of beating him, we need to change, too. Two Grisha from each Order,” I repeated. “And the Orders will no longer sit separately. You’ll sit together, eat together, and fight together.”