Leigh Bardugo - Shadow and Bone

The grounds surrounding the Grand Palace had been lit up to showcase tableaus of actors and little troupes of acrobats performing for wandering guests. Masked musicians strolled the paths. A man with a monkey on his shoulder ambled past, and two men covered from head to toe in gold leaf rode by on zebras, throwing jeweled flowers to everyone they passed. Costumed choirs sang in the trees. A trio of redheaded dancers splashed around in the double-eagle fountain, wearing little more than seashells and coral and holding up platters full of oysters to guests.

We had just started to climb the marble steps when a servant appeared with a message for Genya. She read the note and sighed.

“The Queen’s headache has miraculously disappeared, and she has decided to attend the ball after all.” She gave me a hug, promised to find me before the demonstration, and then slipped away.

Spring had barely begun to show itself, but it was impossible to tell that in the Grand Palace. Music floated down the marble hallways. The air felt curiously warm and was perfumed with the scent of thousands of white flowers, grown in Grisha hothouses. They covered tables and trailed down balustrades in thick clusters.

Marie, Nadia, and I drifted through groups of nobles, who pretended to ignore us but whispered as we passed by with our Corporalki guard. I held my head high and even smiled at one of the young noblemen standing by the entrance to the ballroom. I was surpised to see him blush and look down at his shoes. I glanced at Marie and Nadia to see if they had noticed, but they were gabbling about some of the dishes served to the nobles at dinner—roasted lynx, salted peaches, burnt swan with saffron. I was glad that we’d eaten earlier.

The ballroom was larger and grander than even the throne room had been, lit by row after row of sparkling chandeliers, and full of masses of people drinking and dancing to the sounds of a masked orchestra seated along the far wall. The gowns, the jewels, the crystals dripping from the chandeliers, even the floor beneath our feet seemed to sparkle, and I wondered how much of it was Fabrikator craft.

The Grisha themselves mingled and danced, but they were easy to pick out in their bold colors: purple, red, and midnight blue, glowing beneath the chandeliers like exotic flowers that had sprung up in some pale garden.

The next hour passed in a blur. I was introduced to countless noblemen and their wives, high-ranking military officers, courtiers, and even some Grisha from noble households who had come as guests to the ball. I quickly gave up trying to remember names and simply smiled and nodded and bowed. And tried to keep myself from scanning the crowd for the Darkling’s black-clad form. I also had my first taste of champagne, which I found I liked much better than kvas.

At one point, I discovered myself face-to-face with a tired-looking nobleman leaning on a cane.

“Duke Keramsov!” I exclaimed. He was wearing his old officer’s uniform, his many medals pinned to his broad chest.

The old man looked at me with a flicker of interest, clearly startled that I knew his name.

“It’s me,” I said. “Alina Starkov?”

“Yes… yes. Of course!” he said with a faint smile.

I looked into his eyes. He didn’t remember me at all.

And why should he? I was just another orphan, and a very forgettable one at that. Still, I was surprised at how much it hurt.

I made polite conversation for as long as I had to and then took the first opportunity to escape.

I leaned against a pillar and grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing servant. The room felt uncomfortably warm. As I looked around, I suddenly felt very alone. I thought of Mal, and for the first time in weeks, my heart gave that old familiar twist. I wished he could be here to see this place. I wished he could see me in my silk kefta with gold in my hair. Mostly I just wished that he was standing beside me. I pushed the thought away and took a big gulp of champagne. What difference did it make if some drunk old man didn’t know me? I was glad he didn’t recognize the scrawny, miserable little girl I’d been.

I saw Genya gliding through the crowd toward me. Counts and dukes and wealthy merchants turned to stare at her as she passed, but she ignored them all. Don’t waste your time , I wanted to tell them. Her heart belongs to a gangly Fabrikator who doesn’t like parties.

“Time for the show—I mean, the demonstration,” she said when she reached me. “Why are you all by yourself?”

“I just needed to take a little break.”

“Too much champagne?”

“Maybe.”

“Silly girl,” she said, looping her arm through mine. “There’s no such thing as too much champagne. Though your head will try to tell you otherwise tomorrow.”

She steered me through the crowd, gracefully dodging people who wanted to meet me or leer at her, until we’d made our way behind the stage that had been set up along the far wall of the ballroom. We stood by the orchestra and watched as a man dressed in an elaborate silver ensemble took to the stage to introduce the Grisha.

The orchestra struck a dramatic chord, and the guests were soon gasping and applauding as Inferni sent arcs of flame shooting over the crowd and Squallers sent spires of glitter whirling about the room. They were joined by a large group of Tidemakers who, with the Squallers’ help, brought a massive wave crashing over the balcony to hover inches above the audience’s heads. I saw hands reach up to touch the shining sheet of water. Then the Inferni raised their arms and, with a hiss, the wave exploded into a swirling mass of mist. Hidden by the side of the stage, I had a sudden inspiration and sent light cascading through the mist, creating a rainbow that shimmered briefly in the air.

“Alina.”

I jumped. The light faltered and the rainbow disappeared. The Darkling was standing beside me. As usual, he wore a black kefta , though this one was made of raw silk and velvet. The candlelight gleamed off his dark hair. I swallowed and glanced around, but Genya had disappeared.

“Hello,” I managed.

“Are you ready?”

I nodded, and he led me to the base of the steps leading to the platform. As the crowd applauded and the Grisha left the stage, Ivo punched my arm. “Nice touch, Alina! That rainbow was perfect.” I thanked him and then turned my attention to the crowd, feeling suddenly nervous. I saw eager faces, the Queen surrounded by her ladies, looking bored. Beside her, the King swayed on his throne, clearly well in his cups, the Apparat at his side. If the royal princes had bothered to show up, they were nowhere to be seen. With a start, I realized the Apparat was staring directly at me, and I looked quickly away.

We waited as the orchestra began to play an ominous, escalating thrum and the man in silver bounded onto the stage once again to introduce us.

Suddenly, Ivan was beside us saying something in the Darkling’s ear. I heard the Darkling reply, “Take them to the war room. I’ll be there shortly.”

Ivan darted away, ignoring me completely. When the Darkling turned to me, he was smiling, his eyes alive with excitement. Whatever news he’d gotten had been good.

A burst of applause signaled that it was time for us to take the stage. He took my arm and said, “Let’s give the people what they want.”

I nodded, my throat dry as he led me up the steps and to the center of the stage. I heard eager buzzing from the crowd, looked out at their expectant faces. The Darkling gave me a short nod. With little preamble, he slammed his hands together and thunder boomed through the room as a wave of darkness fell over the party.

He waited, letting the crowd’s anticipation grow. The Darkling might not have liked the Grisha performing, but he certainly knew how to put on a show. Only when the room was practically vibrating with tension did he lean into me and whisper, so softly that only I could hear, “Now.”