Leigh Bardugo - Shadow and Bone

The Darkling gave my arm a gentle squeeze to warn me that we were stopping.

“Your highness, moi tsar ,” he said in clear tones. “Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner.” A rush of murmurs came from the crowd. I wasn’t sure if I should bow or curtsy. Ana Kuya had insisted that all the orphans know how to greet the Duke’s few noble guests, but somehow, it didn’t feel right to curtsy in army-issue trousers. The King saved me from making a blunder when he waved us forward impatiently. “Come, come! Bring her to me.”

The Darkling and I walked to the base of the dais.

The King scrutinized me. He frowned, and his lower lip jutted out slightly. “She’s very plain.”

I flushed and bit my tongue. The King wasn’t much to look at either. He was practically chinless, and close up, I could see the broken blood vessels in his nose.

“Show me,” the King commanded.

My stomach clenched. I looked at the Darkling. This was it. He nodded at me and spread his arms wide. A tense silence descended as his hands filled with dark, swirling ribbons of blackness that bled into the air. He brought his hands together with a resounding crack . Nervous cries burst from the crowd as darkness blanketed the room.

This time, I was better prepared for the dark that engulfed me, but it was still frightening. Instinctively, I reached forward, searching for something to hold on to. The Darkling caught my arm and his bare hand slid into mine. I felt that same powerful certainty wash through me and then the Darkling’s call, pure and compelling, demanding an answer. With a mixture of panic and relief, I felt something rising up inside me. This time, I didn’t try to fight it. I let it have its way.

Light flooded the throne room, drenching us in warmth and shattering the darkness like black glass. The court erupted into applause. People were weeping and hugging one another. A woman fainted. The King was clapping the loudest, rising from his throne and applauding furiously, his expression exultant.

The Darkling let go of my hand and the light faded.

“Brilliant!” the King shouted. “A miracle!” He descended the steps of the dais, the bearded priest gliding silently behind him, and took my hand in his own, raising it to his wet lips. “My dear girl,” he said. “My dear, dear girl.” I thought of what Genya had said about the King’s attention and felt my skin crawl, but I didn’t dare pull my hand away. Soon, though, he had relinquished me and was clapping the Darkling on the back.

“Miraculous, simply miraculous,” he effused. “Come, we must make plans immediately.”

As the King and the Darkling stepped away to talk, the priest drifted forward. “A miracle indeed,” he said, staring at me with a disturbing intensity. His eyes were so brown they were almost black, and he smelled faintly of mildew and incense. Like a tomb , I thought with a shiver. I was grateful when he slithered away to join the King.

I was quickly surrounded by beautifully dressed men and women, all wishing to make my acquaintance and to touch my hand or my sleeve. They crowded on every side of me, jostling and pushing to get closer. Just as I felt fresh panic setting in, Genya appeared by my side. But my relief was short-lived.

“The Queen wants to meet you,” she murmured into my ear. She steered me through the crowd and out a narrow side door into the hall, then into a jewel-like sitting room where the Queen reclined on a divan, a snuffling dog with a pushed-in face cradled on her lap.

The Queen was beautiful, with glossy blond hair in a perfect coiffure, her delicate features cold and lovely. But there was also something a little odd about her face. Her irises seemed a little too blue, her hair too yellow, her skin too smooth. I wondered just how much work Genya had done on her.

She was surrounded by ladies in exquisite gowns of petal pink and soft blue, their low necklines embroidered with gilded thread and tiny riverpearls. And yet, they all paled beside Genya in her simple cream wool kefta , her bright red hair burning like a flame.

“ Moya tsaritsa ,” Genya said, sinking into a low, graceful curtsy. “The Sun Summoner.”

This time, I had to make a choice. I executed a small bow and heard a few low titters from the ladies.

“Charming,” said the Queen. “I loathe pretense.” It took all my willpower not to snort at this. “You are from a Grisha family?” she asked.

I glanced nervously at Genya, who nodded encouragement.

“No,” I said, and then quickly added, “ moya tsaritsa .”

“A peasant then?”

I nodded.

“We are so lucky in our people,” the Queen said, and the ladies murmured soft assent. “Your family must be notified of your new status. Genya will send a messenger.”

Genya nodded and gave another little curtsy. I thought about just nodding right along with her, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to start lying to royalty.

“Actually, your highness, I was raised in Duke Keramsov’s household.”

The ladies buzzed in surprise, and even Genya looked curious.

“An orphan!” exclaimed the Queen, sounding delighted. “How marvelous!”

I wasn’t sure that I would describe my parents being dead as “marvelous,” but at a loss for anything else to say, I mumbled, “Thank you, moya tsaritsa. ”

“This all must seem so very strange to you. Take care that life at court does not corrupt you the way it has others,” she said, her blue marble eyes sliding to Genya. The insult was unmistakeable, but Genya’s expression betrayed nothing, a fact which did not seem to please the Queen. She dismissed us with a flick of her ring-laden fingers. “Go now.”

As Genya led me back into the hallway, I thought I heard her mutter, “Old cow.” But before I could decide whether or not to ask her about what the Queen had said, the Darkling was there, steering us down an empty corridor.

“How did you fare with the Queen?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” I said honestly. “Everything she said was perfectly nice, but the whole time she was looking at me as if I were something her dog spit up.”

Genya laughed, and the Darkling’s lips quirked in what was nearly a smile.

“Welcome to court,” he said.

“I’m not sure I like it.”

“No one does,” he admitted. “But we all make a good show of it.”

“The King seemed pleased,” I offered.

“The King is a child.”

My mouth fell open in shock and I looked around nervously, afraid someone had overheard. These people seemed to speak treason as easily as breathing. Genya didn’t look remotely disturbed by the Darkling’s words.

The Darkling must have noticed my discomfort, because he said, “But today, you’ve made him a very happy child.”

“Who was that bearded man with the King?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

“The Apparat?”

“Is he a priest?”

“Of a sort. Some say he’s a fanatic. Others say he’s a fraud.”

“And you?”

“I say he has his uses.” The Darkling turned to Genya. “I think we’ve asked enough of Alina for today,” he said. “Take her back to her chambers and have her fitted for her kefta . She will start instruction tomorrow.”

Genya gave a little bow and laid her hand on my arm to lead me away. I was overcome by excitement and relief. My power ( my power, it still didn’t seem real) had shown up again and kept me from making a fool of myself. I’d made it through my introduction to the King and my audience with the Queen. And I was going to be given a Grisha’s kefta .

“Genya,” the Darkling called after us, “the kefta will be black.”

Genya drew a startled breath. I looked at her stunned face and then at the Darkling, who was already turning to go.