LIGHT AND DARKNESS OR WHATEVER. IT'S POETIC.

Ithaca had taken to sleeping in Alina's room the last few weeks. It made them both feel more at home. And maybe, Ithaca felt a bit anxious sleeping so close to the General — not that she'd ever admit it because nothing ever made her anxious, much less a boy.

But how could she not when she spent every day with him out in the woods, training and honing her skills? He was so stern and commanding with her, rarely giving out praise and usually chastising her for the attitude she gave him. He'd threatened to gag her one time, and her intrusive thoughts won out with an image of something else filling her mouth to keep her quiet.

It was safe to say she was denying the fact that she was developing a small, minuscule, barely-there crush on General Kirigan. She kept telling herself it was attraction and nothing deeper, because deeper feelings meant danger.

It was a weakness, and the Saints knew Ithaca would never let herself be weak.

Her morning contemplation of the general was interrupted by a knock at the door. A still sleepy Alina muttered for them to come in but she still didn't get up properly.

"Morning, Sunshine," Genya said, letting herself inside. She had a garment bag and a pair of boots in hand. "And there's Starshine."

"Have any letters arrived?" Alina asked, desperately hoping for something from Mal.

The look on Genya's face gave her away before her answer did. "No."

Alina sighed before studying the items in Genya's hands. "I'm going horse riding?"

"Not you," she smirked, her eyes falling in Ithaca. "The General came to your room this morning to invite you to go riding. He was quite disappointed when he found you missing. But I knew where you'd be."

"Is being trotted around town part of my anger management training now?" Ithaca grumbled while reaching for the riding boots, studying the nice leather.

"At least you get to have fun. All my life is now is Zoya waiting to squall me into a wall or an open fire pit," Alina muttered.

"She's off the palace grounds," Genya revealed to the girls, surprising them. They hadn't seen Zoya but just figured she was avoiding them after Ithaca nearly killed her. "Didn't you hear? He sent her away to reassess her priorities. Come on, you don't want to keep him waiting."

"Saints forbid. Why? Is he angry?" Ithaca asked. "He's usually angry with me."

"This might do the trick," Genya said while unzipping the garment bag, revealing a black kefta with shining silver thread embroidered on it. Ithaca couldn't help but reach out and touch the fabric in awe.

"Black is his color. Not mine," she mumbled.

"I think we all know why he wants you in it," Alina said with a smirk.

"What's that mean?" Ithaca asked cluelessly.

Alina giggled. "The General likes you, Ithy. It's so obvious. Training you himself, going to your room to ask you out horseback riding."

Ithaca scoffed at the insane notion. "The General does not like me, Lina. You're insane."

"Am I? Why don't we ask Genya," she said smugly, looking to the Tailor. "Does our General have a huge crush on Ithy?"

Ithaca felt betrayed when Genya grimaced and pinched her fingers together, letting her know she thought he at least liked her a little bit.

"As if," Ithaca said, rolling her eyes. "If anything, he should be focusing his attention on Alina. They're, like, perfect together. Light and darkness or whatever. It's poetic."

"No thank you," Alina asked. "Baghra may be a nightmare, but I'd still pick her over Kirigan any day. I'm glad you're keeping his attention off me until I can learn how to use my power."

"He doesn't like me, Lina," she insisted.

"Then you see no moral conundrum with wearing his color then," Genya said with a mischievous smile.

The Tailor may have felt guilty deep down, but she'd known what Kirigan's initial plan was. To manipulate and use Alina, but he wasn't expecting for Ithaca to consume his every thought. So, Genya had no qualms about encouraging the both of them to act on whatever they were feeling simply to protect Alina — besides, Ithaca would approve.

She would always protect Alina.

☆

︎

Ithaca hated how much she loved the black kefta that fit her like a glove. She was partial to the color because you wouldn't be able to see blood — at least, that's what she told herself. Deep down though, it was because it was his color.

And he was quite pleased to see her trotting out of the Little Palace that morning wearing his color, looking radiant in it.

"Morning," Kirigan said, not letting himself stare for too long.

"Good morning," she greeted, nearing the horses. And she took a look at his lean frame, noting that while he was in black, he was without a kefta for protection. He must've been confident that he wouldn't be harmed. "You're not wearing your kefta."

He ignored her question while leading her to the horses. "Do you like the color I chose for you?"

"I do," she admitted shamelessly. "Black makes me look more imposing and terrifying."

Kirigan laughed a bit at her answer, not expecting anything else. Though deep down, he would've loved to see her cheeks flush at the action of wearing his color.

"Though I was surprised," she continued. "You're the only one who wears it."

"Tell me, are you so anxious to be like everyone else?" he questioned.

"Never," she said, climbing onto the same white horse she'd ridden after the ambush. "You don't get a reputation like mine by being like everyone else."

"Nor mine," he murmured while getting on a black steed, making it look effortless as he slung his leg over the saddle. "Hope you can keep up."

Then he snapped the reins, his horse taking off at top speed. Ithaca laughed at the proposition of a race, so she quickly took off, coming up behind him.

In the end, he won, but simply because he knew where they were headed and Ithaca didn't. He led her deeper in the woods than they usually went for their training sessions. There was a old stone fountain that was covered in vines and dirt, a sign that it was rarely disturbed from nature.

"We have to make a wish," Kirigan informed Ithaca. "It's tradition."

She smiled almost shyly at the childish notion before taking a coin that he offered. She watched him as he brought his own coin to his lips before flicking it into the fountain. Fuck, she wanted to be that coin, a thought she couldn't stand. She blamed it on Alina and Genya's teasing, knowing it was only at the forefront of her mind because they'd dragged it there.

Ithaca thought for a moment, trying hard to think of a wish. But she couldn't think of anything for herself, not really. So instead, she wished for Alina to grow more comfortable with herself and her power before tossing the coin in, watching it sink to the bottom. She stared deeply at her reflection, a frown on her face.

"What do you see?" Kirigan asked her.

And as she studied herself, she wasn't sure. All her life, she'd been covered in blood and grime. But this version of her was well-kept and the fire behind her eyes was subdued. She was tame and she fucking hated it but longed for it at the same time. This was the life she could've had all along if she hadn't hid.

"Someone's version of me," she muttered. "Your version of me."

"Mine?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The longer I stay here, I feel like I'm losing part of myself. I'm turning into Ithaca the Grisha, not... Ithaca the Bloody."

"Why can't there be a happy medium between the two?" She turned to look at him, tilting his head. "You won't be trapped behind the walls of the Little Palace for long. You are still the Blade of Ravka, Little Star. I don't intend to keep my best weapon at home, docile and controlled."

Ithaca actually smiled as he promised her violence — she longed for it. Craved it. And without it, she felt like she was losing part of herself.

"Do I get to wear my war paint or do I have to be a proper and presentable Grisha?"

Kirigan smiled and shook his head in amusement. "Why do you wear that on your face when you fight?"

"It was Mal and I's first time out in the field, joining a fight. It was rainy and muddy, and I tripped and fell. Got it all over my face. Mal laughed, but when I got back up and started actually fighting, that's when the enemy realized I wasn't just some little girl. It's hard to be taken seriously — to be feared — when you're a woman. It's like a mask I can wear that the enemy recognizes now. I suppose it's my own version of a kefta. Let's them know what I'm capable of."

"Then you can still wear it in battle. In fact, General's orders that you do," he said, nudging her shoulder with his, making her smile.

"Thank you."

"So, how are you adjusting to life in the Little Palace?" he then asked as she leaned back against the fountain.

"Well, training is good but my teacher sure is annoying," she teased, making him a scoff playfully. "But he's better than Baghra, I suppose. Speaking of, what's that secret you promised me? I haven't forgotten."

Kirigan dramatically looked around as if they were being spied on before leaning down, his lips nearly brushing her ear. "She's my mother."

Ithaca only laughed, throwing her head back as she did so, and Kirigan hated how his stomach turned, eyes tracing the lines of her neck and up to her perfect lips fixed in a grin.

"So, is she an amplifier too then?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She didn't expect for him to grow so tense at such a simple questioned.

"I never told you I was an amplifier."

"You didn't have to. How else would Alina have put on that show for the King?" she countered. "I'm sorry. It was just a question. You don't have to answer."

The last time someone had learned of his status as an amplifier, a supposed friend was trying to drown him in a lake. After that day, he rarely let anyone touch his skin out of fear. Alina had been the exception that morning.

"No, it's—" He cleared his throat, trying to push past his discomfort. Kirigan looked down at his boots. "Yes, she is. But we'd both appreciate it that you keep that to yourself."

"Who've I got to tell?" she asked lightly. "Your secret's safe with me, General. Not like I need an amplifier anyway."

He nodded greatfully before moving on with the conversation. "Is your room satisfactory? I assume not since you're rarely there."

"It's lovely. But Alina's is lovelier since she's there all the time," she admitted honestly. "Though I heard you paid me a visit this morning. Sorry I wasn't there to meet you."

"I thought you ran," he admitted quietly, avoiding eye contact. "You don't seem the type to be up before sunrise, so I assumed you escaped and was worried. I was prepared to go after you before Genya found me."

"I understand the assumption. Can't have me stealing Alina away," she said, pushing off the fountain.

"No, I wasn't worried about Alina. I just... was worried about you. I care about you."

She looked at him over her shoulder, hating how her heart nearly skipped a beat as he admitted he cared about her in some way. "Well, I'm not leaving," she promised. At least until Alina changed her mind. "Even if not everyone wants me here. I'm used to not being wanted."

"I do know how you feel, Miss Zaiste," he said. "When I was a boy, I used to run away and hide here. Once I realized that I was a descendant of the most hated Grisha in Ravka, I'd come here, throw a coin. Make a wish in the fountain. Same wish, over and over again. That I could be anyone else."

"Know what you should've done to those people that hated you for something out of your control?"

He sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "I feel like you're going to say beat the shit out of them—"

"Beat the shit out of them," she said, giggling. And she fucking hated that she giggled. Rather than think on that, Ithaca nodded to the base of the fountain that had several depictions carved in the stone. "This is his story, isn't it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You know it just from these old pictures?"

"Of course. Every child learns the history, not just Grisha. Hundreds of years ago, Anastas, the King, hired a Grisha as his military adviser. A Shadow Summoner."

"You can say it. The Black Heretic," he told her tensely.

"The Shadow Summoner," she said, deliberately choosing her words, "grew hungry for more power, and the King, fearing a coup, put a bounty on his head, and any Grisha that stood by him. The Heretic knew he was outnumbered, so he attempted to create an army of his own using the same forbidden science Morozova once used to create his amplifiers. But he failed. He created the Fold instead. And was killed by it. Along with countless others. So they say. Was I properly schooled?"

"So they say?" he repeated.

"There's always two sides of history," she told him. "If Grisha are hated now, I can't imagine what it must've been like back then. I'm not praising him for creating the Fold, but the whole story can't possibly be carved into these stones."

"I've never heard anyone with such an opinion," he said softly. "I have devoted my life to undoing the great sin of my forebearer, but I am never seen as the solution. Only as a reminder of the problem. And they always need someone to blame."

"That's why you look at Alina like you do," she said, thinking of the intense stare that was always on his face when she was near. "She's the solution, but if she fails, they'll turn on her. And if they turn on her, they'll have to face me. I won't let her be the new Heretic."

"I will not let that happen either," he assured her. "Alina and I, we're going to change the world."

"And I can't wait to watch."

☆︎

Ithaca sat for dinner with Alina, who was pushing the food around her plate, which Ithaca noticed she'd been doing ever since Ivan made a rude comment about her sitting around on her ass instead of preparing to tear down the Fold.

"One time, Baghra released a hive of bees on me," Marie was telling Alina so that she wouldn't get discouraged about her lack of progress with Baghra.

"Worst part is, it worked," Nadia chuckled.

"It really did. I could summon at will after that."

"I like the way she thinks," Ithaca said, smirking at Alina.

She just shook her head. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Once Mal gets here, it will be better. He's seen me and Ithy through everything. He'll know the right thing to say to get me through this. Hopefully. We've got lots to talk about."

Marie cast a glance at Nadia, both girls smiling. "Mal? Is he handsome? He is, isn't he? I can tell by the way you said his name," she said excitedly.

"It's not like that," Alina said quickly.

"It's like that," Ithaca betrayed her, a smirk on her face.

"When is this strapping lad coming?" Nadia asked them.

"I've invited him, so... any day now."

"Make sure he's announced so we can be with you when he arrives," Maria told her.

Ithaca noticed how some of Alina's enthusiasm faded. Both of them had been writing Mal — Alina more so than Ithaca. Not once had they received a letter in return, which was unlike him very much.

Deep down, she wondered if he was mad. Mal hated Grisha more than anyone — he always had. Did that mean he hated them now as well?

☆︎

It was late and Ithaca knew she needed to be asleep. Kirigan was going to have her up with the sun, training in the woods. But she just didn't feel tired, and so she left her room with the intent of finding Alina, figuring she'd sleep easier with her near as always.

Only to discover she wasn't the only one up. She could see a faint light coming from the room across from hers, signaling that he was still awake. So, against her better judgement, she poked her head in the cracked door.

He sensed her instantly and turned toward her, surprised to see her creeping inside in nothing more than a oversized shirt that hit her mid thigh.

"Ithaca," he said simply, sounding a bit surprised to see her.

"Am I disturbing you?" she asked, nodding to the war map he'd been leaning over.

"Not at all," he assured her while beckoning her closer. "Can't sleep?"

"I've always preferred the nighttime," she admitted softly.

Kirigan held out a glass of kvas, offering it to her. "Here."

Ithaca took it happily, swallowing a mouthful and ignoring the burn in the back of her throat as she sat the glass back down. Then she eyed the map, noting that the enemy was quite close to them as well as all their camps near the Fold. "Is this map current?" she asked, having seen similar ones in her days as a Lieutenant.

"It is. Our enemies are threatened by Alina's mere existence," he explained before his face darkened. "But Ravka can only stand up to them if we present a united front. And there is talk of uprising in the West, led by our... esteemed First Army General."

She eyed the poster with General Zlatan's face painted on it, having heard already of the uprising.

"Our own people, turning their backs on us," Kirigan whispered, his eyes shining with pain.

"Kirigan," she said warily, beginning to worry about him. Especially when shadows began to creep up the walls, surrounding them in darkness.

"I have been fighting this war... alone for so long. I have buried so many good soldiers — friends. The coffers are running dry, the noose tightens... and our own people are turning against Grisha, just as their kin once did—"

The man was near tears, and Ithaca couldn't stop herself for reaching out and grabbing his hand comfortingly. And power surged through her, his amplifier abilities catching her off guard. Starlight spread around them, not banishing the darkness but joining it, the blue, shimmering light shining all around them.

Kirigan looked around in awe, never having seen her use her summoning ability for something so beautiful — she'd only ever used it as a weapon. Then his eyes fell on her, feeling his heart speed up as the stars shined in her eyes.

Slowly, she released him, but the stars remained around them for a few more moments. "You are not alone, General Kirigan."

Slowly, he cupped her face, pulling her closer — and she let him. "Call me Aleksander," he whispered. "Please."

"Aleksander," she murmured, finding that she liked how easily it rolled off her tongue.

He shut his eyes for a moment before opening them, looking down at her like she was the reason the damn sun rose in the morning. "I have been waiting a long time for you."

Ithaca couldn't help but shake her head. "You've been waiting for Alina."

"For a very different reason, Little Star," he said, glancing at her lips. "Don't you know why I call you that? They call me the Starless Saint, Ithaca. Surely you can guess my intentions."

"I'm not... good for you, Aleksander," she told him, shaking her head. "You need someone like Alina. Someone that can give you the sun."

"Sunlight has always been an enemy of darkness," he said, refusing to let her back away from him. "But starlight — starlight was made to be bathed in it."

Ithaca hated how she looked at his perfect, pretty lips. She hated that when he leaned down, she leaned upward. And she hated that her heart soared when his lips met hers in a kiss.

Warmth and power flowed through her, the darkness and starlight intertwining around them like their own personal universe where they were safe away from the rest of the world.

Her hands fell on his firm chest, sliding them upward until he had her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer. And Saints, his hands were so big and warm as he held her face, deepening the kiss as he swiped his tongue across the seam of her lips. She let him suck on her bottom lip for a moment before pulling back and pressing her forehead to his, catching his breath.

Aleksander looked down at her, looking as if his whole world had changed with one kiss — not that she looked much different, but she hid it better.

"I suppose this isn't the appropriate behavior for the war room," she murmured, smiling a bit shyly.

He raised an amused eyebrow. "Would you rather I ask your opinion on weapon strategy?"

She shook her head. "You wouldn't like my answer."

His brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, drawing his eyebrows in. "Now I'm curious."

"I should go," she whispered, knowing she'd cross a line if he really got her opinion.

"Tell me," he said, tilting his head and forgetting about the kiss. "I value your opinion, Ithaca. You're easily the most skilled warrior I've ever met. What would you do in this situation?"

So, with a heavy sigh, Ithaca stepped back from him, feeling cold when his hands dropped from her skin. She turned toward the table and put her hand on the black piece that signified the Fold. Instead of picking it up as he expected, she pushed it across the map and forward, knocking all the enemy figurines down. She didn't need to explain what she meant by that.

If she were the General, she'd be weaponizing the Fold, not trying to rid the world of it.

"I should go," she whispered, not looking his way. Not wanting to see the disgust that was likely in his eyes.

Of course, had she looked, she'd have seen a completely awe-struck expression that was mixed with lust and a bit of love, which he'd never expected to feel for the girl that was seemingly so perfect for him. More perfect than he could ever imagine.

As Ithaca left, his feet followed after her almost of their own accord, and when she left and shut the door, he leaned his forehead against it, wishing to go after her. Clueless to the fact that she was leaning against it on the other side, dying to let herself back in.