The next day, the trial continued. Evidence was presented to charge the Lantsovs with unnecessarily endangering Ravkan lives by insisting they not wait for the Second Army to arrive in Ulensk to face Fjerda. This was still a very sore subject for many, nobles and commoners included. All those who spoke had lost someone at the battle; many had been there, and escaped death by the skin of their teeth. They were angry, passionate, and the trial was certainly ensuring that no one was under any doubt that the former King should die

Alina was unfocused, however, her eyes continuously flicking to Nikolai - Sturmhond - in the audience. She was very aware of his gaze on her, too; when she entered on the Tsar's arm, when she shared smirks and looks with Aleksander throughout proceedings, when she enjoyed the suffering of his family.

A few hours in, however, during a scheduled break, a messenger approached her.

"I was sent by your mother, Miss Starkova. Her birthing pains have started,"

"But it's too early," Alina said without thinking, then bit her tongue, taking a breath. Two weeks early is less dangerous than it could have been. "Alright. Is she in the townhouse?"

The messenger nodded. "Yes, Miss Starkova. The midwives she asked for are on their way - would you like me to fetch the Healers you requested as well?"

"Yes," Her mother may be more amenable to them now, or had better be. "And then get my brother, Mikhail. He works for Mr Karenin in the city,"

"Your brother wishes to be present for the birth?" The messenger raised an eyebrow.

Alina laughed harshly. "He wishes to be there as much as I wish not to be," With that, she got to her feet, catching Aleksander's eye, acknowledging he knew where she was going.

Many pairs of eyes followed her out of the hall.

*

Alina had been so young when Misha was born, she barely remembered it at all. Da had taken her into the mountains hunting, whilst the village midwife had stayed with Mother. She remembered holding her brother afterwards, but that was it. It had never even crossed her mind to worry; she hadn't had to witness anything other than before and after the birth.

Watching it happen was so, so much worse.

At first it had just been dull, taking far longer than she had expected. Nothing much happened except contractions, which seemed to be causing her mother a lot of pain, but the three otkazat'sya midwives clearly knew what they were doing and considered this normal. They gave her herbal remedies for the pain, though it didn't appear to do all that much. Saran Starkova was still refusing Grisha assistance, and Alina had had to bite her tongue furiously; now was not the time for an argument, and ultimately it was not her decision. Instead, she quietly had two Healers specialising in childbirth wait outside the door, just in case something went wrong. She was not going to lose her mother within a year of losing her father.

But then evening came and the pushing began. Her mother had the best care, in the most comfortable environment, with no risk of death or infection for either mother or baby once the Healers got involved, and yet it still looked utterly horrific. It was harrowing for Alina, who didn't even have to push a baby out from between her legs. Misha was there too, the poor boy, having rushed all the way from the city; Mother had wanted him in the room despite the disapproval of the midwives, who said that childbirth was no place for any man.

To his credit, though his face was ashen, Misha was handling the situation better than Alina. "It's very interesting, birth," He said to her as their mother screamed throughout the night, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. "I've read all about it. I've heard if the baby won't come out, they have to cut around... around it," He made an awkward gesture. "And hope the mother doesn't lose too much blood,"

Alina held up a hand, feeling ill. "Stop. Just stop," Despite having seen countless gruesome battle wounds and not batted an eye, this entire experience had unlocked a very specific fear in her, and her brother was not helping at all.

But that was Misha's way of coping; discussing with the midwives and their assistants the intricacies and ordeals of birth. Alina was an unwilling participant, muttering fruitlessly to her mother every now and again to just accept the Healer's help so it could all be over as quickly as possible. The midwives were clearly not happy about her undermining their skill, casting dark looks her way whenever it was mentioned, but she could not care less.

The labour lasted until just before sunrise. When the whole messy, bloody affair was over, and a small, red, wrinkled thing was crying in her mother's arms, Alina was incredibly relieved.

"The baby will be the last piece of your father," Saran Starkova sniffed tearfully, hugging the baby to her chest as the midwives finished checking them both over. Alina hated that analogy but as with many things concerning her mother, had the sense to remain quiet on the matter. "Her name is Demetra, after him - they look so alike, after all. Here, Alina, sit and hold her will you? I'm exhausted,"

She fought to keep from rolling her eyes, awkwardly taking the baby, listening to how the midwife instructed her to hold it. Her mother promptly fell asleep. Alina supposed that was fair enough, and for once could not begrudge her. She studied the child's face. It just looked like a baby. She saw little of her father or her mother there, aside from the blue eyes, which apparently was common at first anyway.

"At least she's not a boy," Misha said, peering at the child with a big grin. "Mother couldn't stick the name Dmitri on a girl," Even her brother's eyes were a little glassy. Her own were dry and tired.

"She did as good as that. Here," Alina thrust Demetra out towards him. "Take it. You'll be better than me at... all this,"

"She's a her, not an it," He said with mild reproach, taking the baby with more grace than she had. "I can't hold her for long, though. I said I would return to Mr Karenin in the morning. He's expecting me in just over an hour,"

"Tell him you're sick - you've been up all night, after all. Or say that Mother is sick, that's more believable,"

"It's tempting, but no. You already got me the job, I don't want you to be the only reason I keep it too,"

She pulled a face. "You're such a little swot. Boys your age are meant to break rules and get in trouble,"

Her brother just laughed. "I'll be back as soon as I can," He paused, looking rather sly. "You can cope until Mother wakes up. Women your age are meant to be good with babies,"

The remaining midwife, still cleaning up, missed the poisonous look Alina shot her brother - and the yelp Misha let out when she stung his arm with a spark of light - and said brightly, "The lad is right, Lady Starkova. You might not think it now, used to the man's world of battles and war as you are, but the feeling of holding your child is so wonderful it can't compare to nothing. Those motherly instincts will come to you when you have a little one of your own,"

Misha, the little shit, played along before Alina could respond. "And imagine what a pretty baby yours and the Tsar's would be,"

"What a pretty bastard, you mean," She muttered, too low for the midwife to hear, although her brother sputtered with laughter. As if I'd ever get married. "What a terrifying little hellspawn, that should be drowned at birth, for everyone's sake,"

The older woman chattered on, kindly oblivious. "Oh, a child of yours would be so beautiful, Miss Starkova. A lovely little dark-haired prince or princess! Would they be able to summon light or darkness, or both?"

"Neither," Alina said, losing patience and taking Demetra back from Misha. "Because the moment I realised their existence, I'd have someone rid me of the problem, and if no one would then I'd throw myself down the stairs," She turned to her snickering brother. "Get yourself off to work, you brat, and while Mother's still asleep, tell the Healers waiting outside to come in and make sure she isn't dying,"

*

Aleksander had to blink at the sight of Alina wandering the halls of the palace with a newborn infant swaddled in her arms, yawning without covering her mouth. He had known her mother was in labour, of course, and that Alina had been with her all night, since she left the trials at noon, but didn't think anyone would trust the girl with a newborn. Or that the girl would trust herself.

"That's the Little Palace, over there," She had stopped by a window with a view of the grounds. The sun had just risen over the horizon, casting them in a rosy light, streaking the sky with red, gold and orange. "Although, the Healers said you can't see very far yet, so there's not much point showing you now," She was looking down at the child with an expression of both distaste and curiosity. "You don't really do much, do you, except cry and sleep and shit? At least you've stopped screaming," She paused. "It's a shame you can't see. It's a beautiful sunrise,"

His lips twitched when he saw her poke the baby in the chest, wrinkling her nose when it squirmed. "A natural mother, I see,"

Her tired, bloodshot eyes turned to glare at him. "I've been told you're meant to long for a baby when you hold someone else's. I think this had made me want one even less,"

"Why isn't it with its mother?"

"She's a she, not an it. I've already been told off for that. And her mother is currently asleep in the townhouse, and snapped at me to take her for a walk because she was crying too loudly,"

"Your mother trusted you to look after her newborn child?"

"She doesn't trust anyone here except me and Misha, and Misha had to run off back to his apprentice work. And what's the worst that can happen? I can summon the sun - surely I can look after a baby for a few hours,"

He raised an eyebrow. "You've looked less shellshocked coming out of a battle,"

"For good reason!" Her voice grew slightly shrill. "In your long life, have you ever actually seen anyone give birth?"

He paused, then furrowed his brow. "Somehow, I don't believe I have," Baghra had not let him anywhere near, when his sister was born. When they were travelling from Grisha camp to Grisha camp, he had heard many of the women in childbirth - tent walls were thin - though there were often Healers present and most had gone smoothly.

"Neither had I, until today," Alina looked genuinely shaken. "It was the most horrific thing I have ever seen, and that includes the aftermath of moving the Fold at Ulensk. Let me tell you right now, I am never birthing a child. If by some horrible twist of fate I ever fall pregnant, I am running to the Healers to have it flushed it out,"

"Good. It would be a foolish decision to have children," At her raised eyebrow, he continued like she was an idiot. "Would you want to raise a child knowing you are guaranteed to outlive them?"

"Or contend with another immortal summoner," She pulled a face. "The world doesn't need any more of those. Least of all a combination of us, what a fucking nightmare," She paused. "I don't think I'd be a good mother, besides. Mother was crying, earlier. Misha was close to crying. This baby is my sister, and I might as well be holding a kitten,"

"Do you want me to say otherwise?" He asked dryly. "You hate responsibility, hate committing yourself to anything, act without thinking, have a quick temper and are prone to disappearing as you please,"

Alina snorted. "All true. Please don't try to say otherwise, I know you'd be lying. Although you'd be a terrible father, too,"

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "On what grounds?"

"Are you joking?" She said, incredulous. "If they were otkazat'sya, you'd send them away to be raised by strangers, and maybe send them a gift once a year, if that. I don't doubt they'd grow up in the lap of luxury, but they wouldn't know you, and you wouldn't know them. If they were Grisha, normal Grisha, you might be a little more attentive, but you wouldn't let yourself get attached. And if they were like us... that would be a disaster. Throw everything out of balance. Another Shadow Summoner would be scrutinised beyond belief, never good enough yet never allowed to be better than you,"

She knew him well. "I cannot deny any of that. What if the child was a Sun Summoner?"

"Another Sun Summoner would be spoiled rotten and end up replacing me," She turned back to the baby. "You hear that, Demetra? If you ever summon a little spark of light, then keep it to yourself for everyone's sake," She frowned. "Demetra is too grand a name for someone so small,"

The baby began to cry.

Aleksander's lip curled at the piercing noise. "She clearly disagrees," The only infant he had interacted with for any length of time was Ulla, his own sister, and Baghra had thrown her to her father in the ocean before she reached a year old. He remembered loving her more than her own mother did; impossibly long ago, now.

"No, no, not again," Alina groaned. "Please stop," Somehow, that didn't work. Nor did clumsily rocking her, stroking her fine hair or Alina's weak attempts at being soothing. It would have been amusing to watch, had the crying not been so grating. "I hate to ask for your help in any situation, especially this, but if - in all your years on this earth - you have any ideas how to stop a baby from crying without smothering it, now would be the time,"

Almost unconsciously, he sent a tendril of shadow towards the child. To both of their surprise, Demetra Starkova stopped crying. Her blue eyes widened, in fact, and a small, chubby fist reached out to grab the darkness, passing right through it.

Alina's eyes were wide too. "And Mother didn't want her anywhere near the Healers' powers,"

"She refused the Healers the whole time?" He raised an eyebrow, as Demetra continued to bat at the tendril of shadow. "Why?"

She shrugged. "She's an idiot. A superstitious idiot. Screamed bloody murder all night, of course, but told me to fuck off whenever I suggested taking the pain away, saying it was unnatural. It's impossible to argue with wilful stupidity like that,"

"What would she do if she saw this?" He waved a hand at the now peaceful child.

"Snatch the baby back and take her to the nearest church for an exorcism. I wish I was joking,"

"Then how does she cope with you being what you are?"

Alina shrugged. "Just a matter of 'sunshine saint with pretty golden light' versus 'evil shadowy darkness', I suppose. Most people are simple at heart," She conjured a tiny golden horse, which pranced in front of the child, who enthusiastically waved her arms around at it.

"The child seems not to care,"

She grinned. "Smarter than most people," There was a pause. "Perhaps a baby is not the worst thing in the world, when they're not crying, but still, she's not mine - I can't wait to give her back,"

*

Most nights - amongst various flashbacks and trauma responses - she dreamed of the Stag. This one was no different. Alina had fallen into bed, exhausted from staying awake the whole night before, then looking after her new sister during the day. And still, the creature came. More vivid, perhaps, considering the depth of her sleep. Padding through the trees on dark hooves, its magnificent antlers far larger and more elaborate than natural, shining with ethereal light, Morozov's Stag was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.

"Saints, it's like you want me to come and kill you," She told the Stag, in her dream.

It just stared at her, impassive yet intense. She didn't mind the dreams, not really. They were a pleasant break from her usual nightmares of blood, death and everything she loved being destroyed.

Yet this time there was something moving behind the Stag. A human figure, a man, with a face she knew well, eyes wide as he took in the creature.

"Mal?" Alina realised suddenly, and then woke up, finding herself curled up in Aleksander's bed. As she sat up, still reeling from the appearance of her old friend in her dream, he remained sleeping on the other side of the bed. Even after all this time, it was still strange seeing his eyes closed, his chest rising gently up and down. It was a sign of familiarity that he no longer woke when her sleep was disturbed. Alina was often jolting awake with a gasp; since her childhood, she had become used enough to nightmares to not scream, at least.

They were in his chambers in the Little Palace; she refused to spend any more nights in the Grand Palace, and after those first few weeks he seemed to begin to agree with her, returning to his old chambers more often than not. Home was still home, it seemed, even for someone nearing six-hundred years old. Even when the Tsar's rooms were at his disposal. Sometimes she joined him here, sometimes she remained in her own bedchamber down the hall. It worked for both of them.

Alina slipped out of bed and padded over to the frosted window. A blanket of snow covered the grounds, and the city beyond, though was nowhere near as deep as the snow drifts she had seen in her dream. If it was truly a vision, not just another of the twisted images that her mind thought up to constantly plague her sleep, Mal had actually found the Stag. And he was north of here, far north, perhaps even in Fjerda.

Well, if he'd already found it...

No part of Alina wanted an amplifier. The idea of killing such a beautiful creature was reprehensible. But her curiosity was roused. When Mal returned, as he soon would be after his discovery, perhaps she would go with him. Just to see.

*

The trial concluded the next day. The outcome was a surprise to no one; they were judged guilty of crimes against Ravka and its people. Most of the lords on trial would be stripped of their lands and property, but would not face the death penalty. Pyotr Lantsov and several of his male relatives would be hanged later that afternoon. However, his widow would be sent back to her brother, the King of Fjerda, in accordance with the treaty they had signed, exiled from Ravka until the day she died.

The sentencing brought a dramatic reaction from everyone, of course, despite it having been seen a mile off. Kings had died in battle, died of old age or disease, but in the entire history of Ravka, they had never been executed. In the midst of this chaos, Aleksander stood from the throne, spreading his hands so a curtain of darkness washed over the room, everyone falling silent at once aside from a few startled noises.

"In the wake of this sentencing - a true victory for Ravka and its people - I wish to announce additional charges brought against Tatiana Lantsova. Whilst this will not go to trial and she will not face punishment, let it be known that letters were found in her chambers which are proof of the illegitimacy of her youngest son, Nikolai, and her affair with the Fjerdan shipping magnate, Magnus Opjer," He passed the bundle of letters to the judge, who examined them. "Thus, due to having no Lantsov blood, the former Prince Nikolai is granted a full pardon and will not be subject to trial or punishment if he so chooses to return to Os Alta,"

The former Queen held her head high, looking dead ahead, as Aleksander sat and the entire throne room erupting in muttering and whispers. Alina's eyes found Nikolai's in the crowd, but what needed to be said could not be conveyed through a stare alone. As Sturmhond, he looked unbothered by this news, even bored. Of course, she knew better.

He sought her out afterwards, as she knew he would. Alina had sat outside the Grand Palace, cross-legged next to the Scar, for the exact purpose of being easy to find. The construction work was well under way; the magnificent bridge between both sides of the palace was almost complete. It looked better now, she thought. The building now had character, rather than just being austere and, well, grand.

"I want to see her. My mother,"

She looked up at him standing over her, squinting against the winter sun. "As in, you want to announce your presence and be granted a formal visit? Or you want me to turn us both invisible and sneak in?"

"The latter. Sturmhond remains a cover. I'll get my certification now the trial is over and it gets handed over to administrators, and Sturmhond will vanish again, only for Nikolai Lantsov to mysteriously reappear a few weeks later," His breath of laughter sounded rather hollow. "Or not Lantsov, as the case may be. I want to believe those letters were fake, but I know they're not,"

Alina had never seen him so flat. "Sit with me. If you don't want to push me in," She nodded to the Scar.

"What if I do?"

"Now's your chance," She spread her arms wide.

"There's snow on the ground,"

"You're wearing a coat,"

"True enough," Nikolai took a seat at her side. "It was you who did it, wasn't it?"

There was no point denying it. "I spoke to your mother. She hates me, but told me the truth for the same reason I asked - not wanting to see you kill yourself trying to win a throne that's impossible to win,"

"Improbable, not impossible," He corrected. "But I suppose that's all the same, in practice. I have been doing a lot of thinking, these past few days. In a way, despite being angry with you, I suppose it is good you took the option away. It would be one thing if the Darkling was acting like the tyrant he is. But there are not many weaknesses in this new government to exploit, nor much will to do so. And what you said in the woods struck a nerve. I can agree that I would not be happy chained to Os Alta by a crown and sceptre,"

Alina could have felt smug at that, but didn't. "There's a position on the council, if you want it. You were the only one in your family who was actually good at politics,"

Nikolai snorted, avoiding the question. "Yes, Vasily was only ever interested in horses and drinking, wasn't he?" He looked into the Scar. "This was where he died, I'm told,"

"This is what killed him," She replied. "His death was the one good thing to come out of the whole mess. Sorry, but it's true. My father had just been murdered, on his orders. We were trying to leave. Would have left. They shot at me, and he threw himself in the way. I raised a shield, to stop any more bullets, but the inside of his head was already covering my skirts. After a run in with a Heartrender assassin, and months of being trapped in that palace, something in my mind broke and the power got away from me. I realised what was happening but it was so hard to stop it, Nikolai, and not just let myself drift away. If I hadn't stopped, we'd likely be left with another Fold. Vasily wasn't the target - he just got in the way. As did the dozens of others who died,"

She rarely slept through the night without nightmares of that day, which obviously showed on her face now. To Nikolai, at least, who was very perceptive.

"How many people have you killed?"

She thought for a moment. "The Druskelle who tried to kill me on my way to the Little Palace. Most of the cultists who kidnapped me when I was twelve, between me and Baghra. Even more Druskelle when we went hunting in Fjerda when I was fifteen. Countless Shu soldiers in battle. Whoever died when the Scar was made. A large portion of the Fjerdan army when the Fold moved at Ulensk, although the Darkling can take credit for those as well. Many of the palace guards when we stormed Os Alta. A few soldiers and citizens who wouldn't back down in several small uprisings," Alina met Nikolai's eyes with a humourless smile. "Probably more along the way. I couldn't even begin to give you an exact number,"

"I suppose you had more motivation than most for ending Ravka's wars," He said. "You'd have been a weapon your entire life, a never-ending pile of corpses building up. As it is, that can't sit easy with you,"

"Oh, it doesn't stop now," She said with a wan smile. "When I leave Os Alta, I'm heading to Fjerda, to free Grisha from the Druskelle - to Shu Han, to shut down those laboratories - to Kerch, to stop people being taken advantage of by those awful indenture contracts. But I don't need sympathy. Killing when it's deserved weighs a lot less heavily on my conscience,"

"A worthy goal," His lips curled into a smile. "But give yourself a break and have some fun, first. You're not even twenty yet, Alina,"

"Killing Druskelle is the height of fun to me,"

That wrung the first full grin out of Nikolai since the conversation began. "That isn't a surprise,"

They fell into a comfortable silence; an achievement in itself, considering everything that had transpired between them.

"You don't have to be there, later," She said eventually.

"For the public executions of those I once considered family, or for the celebratory ball afterwards, that was planned weeks before the conclusion of the trial?" He asked, with more than a little sarcasm.

"Either. No one knows who you really are, and the real Nikolai is gone with the wind as far as they're concerned - they wouldn't notice your absence,"

He was there anyway, stood amongst the assembled courtiers. A crowd of Os Altan citizens had been let in to watch, as well; the event was highly popular. It wasn't every day you got to see the death of a king.

Non-Grisha methods of execution had been agreed upon; Alina, and other members of the council, had pointed out it may be alienating towards Grisha for people to see the Cut used. Beheading had been considered too medieval, burning too Fjerdan, and a firing squad was inadvisable with such a large audience squeezed in. So there was a line of nooses set up over a gallows; seven in total. They would have the deaths of common criminals. And Genya would pull the lever.

Alina stood at Aleksander's side to watch the event. Nikolai's eyes stared up at her next to him from the crowd, the one face that stood out. It wasn't quite accusing, but even so. She was not going to let him make her feel like the villain here. Alina had snuck him in to see his mother earlier. She did not know what was said, and frankly did not care.

There was little to report about what happened at the execution. The Lantsovs were offered any last words, and refused. The nooses were placed around their necks. The lever was pulled and the floor dropped away and then they died, choking and kicking. The crowd cheered, listened to Aleksander's rousing speech, then dispersed. It was not quite an anticlimax, because Alina had not been expecting much of the afternoon, but it was... strange.

"A king should not die as easy as that," Aleksander said with some scorn as they watched the corpses be cut down. They were the last two stood watching, aside from the guards next to the scaffold.

"The King died months ago, when we took his kingdom," She said. "It was just Pyotr Lantsov who died today," Perhaps that was it. The entire concept of the Lantsovs, which she had built up and hated in her mind, had died the moment their armies took Os Alta and all of the royal's power with it. The moment she snatched the crown off of his head. Without all the titles and money and resources, the King was just a weedy, selfish middle-aged man who could not do a single thing for himself.

Aleksander let out a breath of laughter. "I spoke to him, earlier,"

"To gloat?" She suggested, with a half-smile. It must have been satisfying for him, after all these centuries of serving useless king after useless king. For her part, she never wanted to even think of any of them ever again.

"To tie some loose ends. I told him about the Fold, the Black Heretic. Everything,"

"You didn't!" That snapped her out of her melancholy mood. "Oh, I wish I'd seen the look on his face! How did you know he wouldn't shout it to the entire courtyard?"

"We were both aware that he can shout what he likes, and it would make no difference at this point. He lost. What he says counts for nothing, as proved in the trial," His lip curled. "I will say, telling him the truth was almost more entertaining than watching him die,"

She took his arm, eagerly leading him back into the palace. "You have to tell me everything,"

*

Since Alina's first courtly ball when she was ten years old, things had changed a lot. Yes, there were still twittering courtiers, gossip, an orchestra playing upper class music, pageantry, and a great deal more attention on her than she would have liked, but the biggest difference was that significantly more Grisha were there. Even if they were still outnumbered by nobles, it was a far cry from the days of her childhood, when it was just her and Aleksander. It made her a lot more at ease, and actually gave her people to enjoy talking to.

People still fawned over her, of course, but now there appeared to be some kind of invisible boundaries in place. Perhaps they knew now that not only would she not permit such behaviour, but Aleksander was considerably less likely than the Lantsovs to let people get away with harassing her. That did not mean people weren't tripping over themselves to introduce themselves, gain her favour or flatter her, but at least it was not as tinged with religious fervour now. The Unsaint name had grown more popular in recent months, and any who witnessed them taking Os Alta had seen evidence enough that she was no more a holy sankta than their new Tsar was.

She was determined to make the most of the occasion, however, and these days there would be very little (meaningful) consequences to acting exactly how she wanted. She drank, but not to excess, just enough to loosen her (admittedly few) inhibitions and relax her a little. She danced with all of her friends, who were there at her insistence. She and Nina waltzed their way around the floor, cackling and acting like fools. She and Katya got the orchestra to play an upbeat folk song from their childhoods that only seemed to be known in south-east Ravka, dancing like they were at a village festival as the nobility looked on, some bemused and disdainful, some eager to learn the steps, Viktor first and foremost amongst them. Alina and Zoya performed a sharp, technically perfect foxtrot whilst muttering vitriol against all of the aristocrats in their line of sight. Kasper led her in a smooth, enjoyable dance like a perfect gentleman.

After Alina's dance with Genya, she spun her blushing friend into the startled arms of David Kostyk, waving them off with a grin. Without any regard for the fact that Aleksander was mid-conversation with a lord and presumably three of the man's daughters, she approached him slightly out of breath and grabbed his arm in her own, ignoring the raised eyebrows and startled expressions of the other four. "You are the only one I haven't danced with, tonight,"

His attention was on her at once, hand settling on the small of her back to steady her, despite the fact that one of the young women was mid-curtsey, halfway through an introduction. "I've been watching you - there are countless people here whom you have not danced with. I am far from the only one,"

"Why would I bother with any of them?"

He looked amused. "Because you are a public figure, perhaps - eager to fulfil your responsibilities and engage with the guests to make a positive impression?"

She knew he was joking, in a good mood considering what they were celebrating tonight, and scoffed. "I'm not playing Queen for you, even without the confines of the title. Get someone more gracious than me to play the good hostess. These are all your guests, not mine,"

The lord cleared his throat. Both of them looked away from each other and at him.

"Ah yes," Aleksander did not sound best pleased at the interruption. "Alina, this is Lord Glinsky. Lord Glinsky, Alina Starkova,"

The significance of that was not lost on her. He was a very powerful lord with an old name, who had joined their cause without protest (his estate was near Novokribirsk) but was not overly happy about the change in leadership. His eldest daughter, Darya, had been all set up to be betrothed to Vasily, before Alina was considered an option, in an attempt to mend relations between east and west. So, in a way, the Lantsovs had snubbed him first by choosing Alina over Darya. That was likely why he had gone along with their coup in the first place (as well as the threat of the Fold engulfing his lands and family), but he had made it clear he was looking for more reward than he had received. Entitled prick.

Lord Glinsky surveyed her with a judgemental eye. "A pleasure, Miss Starkova," He said, as though it was anything but. "Allow me to introduce my daughters. Ladies Ana, Elena and Darya Glinskaya," Darya was no older than Alina herself; if she had to guess, she would place the girl at age seventeen. She was beautiful, in a dainty, delicate way. At a first glance, there was nothing else interesting about her. Elena looked around fifteen, whilst Ana was a child, twelve years old at most.

"A pleasure," She echoed. At least none of them were fawning over her. The opposite, if anything. The three perfectly-dressed, well-mannered young girls were looking at her like she had grown a third head. No doubt they were shocked at how casually she had addressed the King. "Lady Darya, you must share my relief at the former Prince Vasily's passing. Any girl married to that awful man would spend her days praying either for his death or her own,"

The girl's mouth dropped open.

"Never let your eloquent charm be understated, Alina," Aleksander said with a raised eyebrow. "Will you ever learn the difference between conversation that is appropriate in private, and conversation that is appropriate for polite company?"

"What do you think?" She said with a grin, then dared to add, "Should I lead by your example, moi Tsar? The way you talk to me in private is very different to the way you talk in polite company," Said with an unmistakable leer.

His dark look held the promise of something that made her smile grow and her stomach leap, his attention returned entirely to her. "Do not push me, Alina,"

She just laughed. "Someone has to. Who will if I don't? Everyone else is terrified of you," Her attention was caught by the sight of Nikolai standing on the edge of the crowd. "I still want that dance, later," The double meaning of that was only too clear. "But as you are determined to be dull for now, I will have to enjoy myself elsewhere," She distractedly turned to the Glinky's. "Nice to meet all of you,"

Without waiting for a response, she moved away, heading over towards her friend. Nikolai had seen his father (well, father-figure) publicly executed today, whilst his mother would be packed off to Fjerda in the coming days. Alina did not feel guilty for that - they deserved everything they got, and more - but she did worry what it would do to him.

"Dance with me," She said. "If you like. You don't have to. If you want to vent your anger on a deserving target, I'm happy to go outside for some bare-knuckle sparring,"

That did coax a smile out of him. "I fear that it is very cold outside this evening. Not the best time for bare-knuckle sparring. Tripping you on the dance floor and embarrassing you terribly will have to suffice,"

"Then by all means," She offered her hand, and he took it. "I'm yours to abuse,"

Nikolai raised an eyebrow at that, amused despite himself. "Alina, you can't even begin to tell me that that phrasing was not deliberate,"

"What phrasing?" She blinked innocently as they moved onto the dance floor, but was unable to hide a smirk.

"I myself am not that way inclined, but it does give me an insight into what you get up to with him," He nodded over to where Aleksander was still conversing with the Glinsky's.

Lord Glinsky was pushing his shy eldest daughter more and more towards the Tsar, evidently angling for some sort of marriage offer. The girl was beautiful, true, and what she would imagine Aleksander's type of woman to be if she did not know him as well as she did; subservient, demure and easy to push around. Who knew; perhaps it would work. Many important people were pressuring him to marry.

Alina blocked out her own thoughts and laughed loudly at Nikolai's comment as they began to dance. "Do you ever think the words 'I am yours to abuse' have left my mouth in his presence? Saints, that would be opening a whole can of worms that is much better left closed," Her laughter attracted Aleksander's attention. "Quick, he's glaring - touch me inappropriately, so he has a real reason to have that look on his face," She was in a provocatory mood that night. Well, more so than usual.

Nikolai burst out laughing. "Whilst I have never heard a more romantic offer in my life, I will have to decline. I have no wish to partake in whatever twisted games exist between the two of you, let alone get caught in the middle,"

"That's fine - laughing together is bad enough. I want to provoke him into asking me to dance,"

"Has that man ever danced with you before?"

"Once, years ago. He's not bad at all, surprisingly. You're better, though, pampered Prince that you are,"

"Ah, but I am not a prince any longer thanks to you, merely the former Queen's bastard son,"

His tone was good-natured and joking, but her smile faded nonetheless, the alcohol in her system making her more honest. "Please don't leave," Came out of nowhere. "Not forever. You could do so much good on the council - we could give some of your plans to the Fabrikators, they could help you invent all sorts of things. And I want you here. I missed you, all those years you were gone,"

"Who are you and what happened to all Alina's sharp edges?" He quirked an eyebrow, spinning her, then realised she was serious. "I will think on it. I want to return to my ship for a while no matter what, but for what amount of time depends,"

She hummed in acknowledgement, an easy silence settling over them as they danced. People were staring. They did not know Sturmhond well, and it was extremely noticeable how comfortable the Sun Summoner was with him. How friendly they were with each other. How much they enjoyed each other's company. No doubt there were rumours forming, flying around the ballroom, but she was long past caring about such things. Everyone knew she spent half her nights sleeping with the Tsar, but no one dared to call her a whore anymore, or even a mistress. At least not to her face, or within the hearing of anyone who would report back to her.

"Do you know what my plan was, when I heard the Darkling had taken over?" He asked as they began a second dance.

"To rescue me like the helpless damsel I am, and both of us work together to win the people and bring him down?"

"I was going to ask you to marry me," He held up a hand as her mouth opened. "I knew that if you were anything like you were at thirteen, you'd say no, but it would have just been for appearances sake. Married in public for the sake of Ravka, and close friends in private,"

She thought for a moment about not saying what was on her mind, but said it anyway with a snort of laughter, deeming it too funny to keep to herself. "Oh, come on. I'd have slept with you, if we were married. Don't pretend to be humble - you know you're handsome. You mention it often enough,"

He grinned, eyes twinkling, and she wondered how anyone could miss that it was Nikolai under the tailored mask of Sturmhond. "Ah, what could have been, Alina. You could have got the handsome young prince with luscious blonde locks and a charming smile, yet chose the villain from a child's tale,"

"If this were a child's tale, I'd be crying pathetically into my pillow every night, praying for a big strong man to come and rescue me," She said, amused. "As it stands, I can do whatever the fuck I want,"

"Our new Tsar would disagree,"

"He can disagree all he likes. He knows he walks a fine line with me - I have made that plenty clear, particularly over the last few months," She caught Aleksander's eye over Nikolai's shoulder, casting a dark stare in their direction; Alina, always one to find thrill in provoking situations that probably should not be provoked, shot him a wicked grin. "He's got nothing left he can scare me with. He knows that if he makes me hate him, he'll never see me again. Which is stronger bargaining power than any bribe or threat he can make,"

"You mean that much to him?" Nikolai sounded genuinely curious, rather than doubtful.

"He was waiting for the Sun Summoner for a very long time," She replied. To achieve his goal of taking the throne, yes, but also to relieve him from centuries existing alone. "That aside, he cares for me as much as he can care for anyone,"

"And you care for him?"

"I love him," She said before she could catch herself, as the song ended and they stepped off the dance floor. "Despite everything. But I hate him almost as much. My life is not tied to his, as he'd like it to be. We orbit the same thing, perhaps, but that does not equal blind loyalty,"

Nikolai was silent for a moment. "Come with me, when you leave Os Alta to travel. You cannot say we would not have an entertaining journey. We could go wherever you like, do whatever you like. And for a time, you can experience what it is like to be young, away from court, and free from everything that comes with it,"

She grinned. "I'd absolutely love to,"

A shadow appeared behind her. Alina turned to face Aleksander, in one smooth motion grabbing his hands in her own, placing one on her waist and moving forward onto the dance floor for the next song.

"You'll embarrass both of us if you refuse now," She looked up at him.

"If you had given me the chance to speak," He glared at her without any real venom. "I had come to ask you if you wished to retire upstairs,"

Alina looked up at him innocently. "But it's far too early to leave - what would people think?" She placed a hand on his chest, just below his throat, the gesture contrasting with the earnestness of her tone. "And - saints - what of my reputation?"

His lips twitched. "Your reputation of what? A vengeful, powerful figurehead of rebellion? I can assure you, that is well and truly intact. Though if you want to change your image to that of a holy, innocent sankta, then it may be too late,"

Alina laughed as he spun her, catching the eyes of many upon them; the Glinsky's included. "Sturmhond asked me if I'd like to travel with him to Kerch, in a few weeks," She said it for a reaction, like she did with many things.

"Lord Glinsky asked me to marry his eldest daughter," He countered, in the same tone as she had used. "Or either of the other two, if they so took my fancy,"

"Did you pick the twelve-year-old?"

He ignored that. "As you pointed out earlier, this court is lacking a Queen. Darya Glinskaya would make a perfect Tsaritsa. Beautiful, demure, gracious - "

"Scared of you, and even younger than I am," She cut him off with a sneer. "Travelling with Sturmhond would save me paying for a ship. And it would be with a captain I can trust not to turn on me and sell me to anyone willing to pay for the Sun Summoner,"

"Ah yes," Aleksander smiled in a way that made her skin crawl. "I suppose a childhood friend would be far more trustworthy than a stranger, after all," She stilled in his grip, which tightened. "Come now, Alina. Did you really think I did not know?" He lowered his lips to her ear. "That Nikolai Lantsov had returned to court under the guise of an eccentric privateer? That you have been entertaining him this whole time? Mila Tarasova and her little pet might be busy in Shu Han, but her network is fully functional without her,"

Alina forced herself to recover quickly as he drew back, studying her face. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She did not miss a step of the dance, and neither did he. "Then why is he not dead?" She asked. "No one would have known, except me. Why did you agree to pardon him?"

He smiled wryly. "If I had killed him, or any of your little friends, what would you have done?"

"I would have left. For good," She raised an eyebrow. "But I'm going to leave anyway, I've told you before. You can't honestly say that you held yourself back to spare my feelings?"

"I would do a lot of uncharacteristic things for you, Alina. I admire you, in a twisted sense, for never compromising yourself for me,"

"But I have," She said, her throat suddenly rather tight. "Again and again. The entire time I have known you. Even being here with you is a betrayal of myself. How do you not see it?"

"And that is why you feel like you should leave?" It was a rare occasion where his expression was completely and utterly earnest.

"I won't be gone forever," Alina said, and meant it. "I can't be gone forever. No matter how I resent it, I will always be pulled back to you. Like calls to like, after all," She gave a hollow laugh. "Marry Darya Glinskaya if it will make you feel better. I'll come to the wedding, though I won't be very pleased,"

"Likewise, I will not be pleased to see you go gallivanting off with the Lantsov boy and saints know who else,"

"Don't marry her to spite me. The girl deserves better than that,"

"You are as arrogant as you claim I am," He said, not without amusement. "Marrying an otkazat'sya noble will help solidify my rule - you are always going on about integrating Grisha and otkazat'sya, are you not? Appeasing them, rather than fighting them? It will also give the guise of a potential heir - never mind that that would never happen. Oh, and the role of a 'good hostess' will be filled, as you were saying earlier,"

She smiled, showing her teeth. "None of that would matter to you if you truly did not want it to. Yes, I am arrogant, but not unduly so. You want me above all others. You always have. You'll have to treat her far more gently - most people break far more easily than I do,"

There was that dark look again; she irritated him as much as he wanted her. "Come upstairs,"

His words sent a thrill through her; a wave of anger, pain and lust rolled up together. Alina grabbed his collar and pulled him down for a kiss, there and then, ignoring how people around them gasped. Fuck everyone else. They all knew anyway; they just had not seen proof. There was something there when she kissed him, a deep-rooted attraction that she had never felt for anyone else, tangled amongst a complex knot of other feelings that only highlighted how much she wanted him in that moment. Fuck everyone, fuck all of this.

The moment they were in his chambers, he had her back against the door, kissing her so intensely it made her knees weak. That did not mean she was passive by any means, however. Her hands were snagging in his hair, unbuttoning his kefta, nails scraping the back of his neck. His lips moved to her neck and she gasped, letting her head fall back as his fingers worked their way under her shirt. In no time at all, she was completely nude, held up by him alone as his hand found between her legs, murmuring absolute filth into her ear.

For a time, Alina let herself forget. Well, she did not consciously think on the matter, that is; it was all there just under the surface, from the intensity with which they kissed, to the desperation with which they grasped at each other.

"Don't marry her," She said, once they found themselves on the bed, straddling his lap, her back to his chest as he moved inside her.

"Don't go," He threw back at her.

To that, there was nothing to say.

*

Sorry for the late update. I've been busy doing an edit of the entire story, which has yet to be published (I will inform you when it has been). The changes won't be massive, mainly grammar and sentence structure. My spellcheck software was slacking severely when I wrote this, and my dyslexia seems to have been turned up to 11. There will be a few added scenes that I felt were missing, but nothing that impacts the overall plot, so when the edit is published you don't necessarily have to reread the whole story haha unless you want to see the polished and improved version.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Writing Alina with the baby was hilarious, and I love her interactions with Nikolai, not to mention the scenes with Aleksander. Please let me know what you think!