The camp awoke the next morning to find that two more members had died in the night at the hands of the mysterious killer following them. Father Aleksei, to her surprise, had scolded the two who had cut off her finger, but simply for the selfishness of their actions.

"We all want a relic of Sankta Alina," He explained, with endless patience and understanding. "But we refrain from taking one. Her true purpose is to die to destroy the Fold, freeing Ravka from the darkness, and we must put aside our individual desires so that this vision can happen,"

Saints, these people would carve her up amongst them if they could. Once they killed her, that is likely what they were going to do. Alina hoped that whatever demon was following them killed every last one of them. The fight had not gone out of her since they had taken her finger, but the pain had distilled her raging anger to a quiet, simmering loathing; hatred like nothing she had ever felt before.

By the time they were a day from the Fold, almost half their group was missing or dead.

"We found Sergei," She heard one muttering to Greybeard as they made camp for the night. "He had scouted ahead. His body was cut clean in half, it was. Poor man,"

Cut in half. She now had an inkling of what demon was following them. There were only two people Alina knew who could do that. Alina started to laugh, feeling hope for the first time in what felt like years. Both men turned to her, the former with pain in his eyes, as though she was a daughter they were disappointed in but knew couldn't help her own actions.

Greybeard just glared. "Quiet, you little wretch,"

"The Darkling's evil has truly twisted her," One said sadly.

"No," She said, still laughing, rather hysterical. "I want you all to die because you kidnapped me, cut off my finger and want to murder me. And I'll be getting what I want very soon,"

*

Baghra emerged from the woods at twilight, just as the sun fell below the trees. Her footsteps did not make much sound in the snow, and it took a while for anyone to notice her. But one by one, the group's eyes snapped up, and they all stopped what they were doing, frozen in fear.

"Who are you?" Greybeard demanded, though everyone knew at this point.

"What are you?" Choirboy looked ready to piss himself.

The woman was a terrifying sight, her black dress blowing in the sharp wind that had picked up in the last half hour, as was her long, unbound hair. Dark eyes glinted from her sharp-boned, gaunt face, ancient and full of hate. Shadows pooled in her hands, gathering around her like an ungodly shroud.

"Saints save us," Father Aleksei paled.

"Demon," Came the fearful whispers. "Witch,"

Baghra just smiled cruelly. How many times had she been called those names in her long life? With a flick of her hands, the woman did the one thing that doomed them all; sent out a tendril of shadow that snapped the bonds on Alina's wrists.

Power. Hate. Fury. She had been on edge all week waiting for this moment, rage, pain and humiliation all stoking it to an inferno. Something was roaring in her ears as she brought her hands together, and the world exploded around her with a deafening boom.

Five of them died in the first scorching wave of light Alina sent into the clearing, burnt to a crisp. Others screamed, not having been close enough to be blackened by the heat, but suffering horrific burns nonetheless. Alina felt blood spray on her face as Baghra used the Cut to fell even more, shadows whipping around her tall frame like an unholy, malevolent storm. It only invigorated Alina, as both Shadow and Sun Summoner carved a bloody, blackened path through the ranks of the cult.

Within a minute it was over - they were all dead or fled - and Alina was left standing in the clearing surrounded by corpses. Where it hadn't melted completely from the heat, the snow was liberally spattered with red. Blood, bone and soul.

As the adrenaline wore off, her legs - stiff from disuse - started to shake, then gave way. She dropped to her knees in the snow. The wound where her finger had been had bled through the bandages, but she ignored it for now. The sheer rush of brutally killing everyone she had fantasised about for the past week was enough to put it temporarily to the back of her mind, not to mention using her powers to such an extent.

"Up you get, girl," Baghra was moving smoothly towards her, grabbing her arm and hauling her upright. "Don't fall apart now," She must have been using her powers a lot in the last week, as she was more radiant than Alina had ever seen her. Or perhaps this was the first time she had seen her outside her dingy hut.

"I knew you didn't really need that cane," Alina mumbled, for once accepting the help.

The woman just snorted. "I need it for teaching stubborn little brats like you how to access their powers. It worked, didn't it?" She gestured to the carnage around them.

"True," She smiled faintly. She'd never thought she would be so pleased to see the awful woman. "How did you find them? I suppose it was you killing the ones that went off alone. Not to be rude, but couldn't you have attacked sooner?"

"Easier to pick them off one by one then face the large group at once," Baghra said. "I didn't stay close. I haven't lived this long by being reckless, girl. Besides, it was amusing to see their fear,"

"They were so scared they cut off my finger for holy luck," She paused, as the woman's eyes narrowed at the bloody bandage. "Wait, the man might still have it. Could the Healers reattach it?"

"If you're very lucky,"

Baghra helped her search the corpses despite her cynicism, but they came up with nothing. The second man was dead but his pockets were empty of any pickled finger, whilst Choirboy was nowhere to be found.

"He must've run away," Alina scowled, more angry and upset than she cared to display. "I just - " She broke off, voice catching embarrassingly, and turned her head away. Baghra was not someone you cried in front of.

"It's not the end of the world," To her gratitude, the woman did not mention the silent tears streaming down her face, merely continued to help her through the snow away from the camp. "Of all your fingers, the fourth on your left hand is the most useless. People have survived much worse,"

Those harsh words were the closest Baghra got to comfort, but they did help Alina pull herself together a little as they limped through the trees.

"We should have brought their pack horses," She said as they reached the road at last, passing the wagon the fanatics had used, hidden in the undergrowth ready for the next day. "It's a long way back to Os Alta,"

"I have a horse," Baghra said. "Strong enough for two. Though we may not be going back to Os Alta,"

"What do you mean?" Alina stopped dead.

"Sooner or later, the boy is going to decide that your power is strong enough," It took her a moment to realise that 'the boy' meant the Darkling. "You're sharp for a child, but you don't know him as I do. His plans for you and for Ravka will end in catastrophe,"

"He wouldn't have told you all his plans," She narrowed her eyes. "He wouldn't have told anyone. What are you talking about? I know he wants to use me as a weapon, that's all I've been training for,"

Baghra glared at her. "Don't be stupid, Alina," That was the first time she had called her by name. "By your own logic, he hasn't told you everything either. I, however, have known him his entire life. I was there through all those Lantsovs he served, all those years searching for his Sun Summoner, plotting, scheming and lying. I walked this earth over four-hundred-and-fifty years ago, when the spark in him was born, and I was there when he created the Fold,"

That silenced her. Alina had not known that. No one knew that. There had only ever been one Shadow Summoner. Well, two; him and Baghra. Four-hundred-and-fifty?

The woman continued, through the ringing in her ears. "He is not who he says he is. After this, the moment he sees you again, you will be under such heavy guard that you won't ever get this chance again. Or we could leave now, vanish into the shadows, and you won't have to live in a gilded cage. Back at the palace, you will be his creature no matter what you choose. Come with me and I'll teach you to be strong enough to match him,"

"I - " She broke off. The Darkling was the Black Heretic. It was shocking, but not as much as it should have been. She remembered the story Konstantin had told her in the library, years ago. There were two sides to every tale. Yet she wasn't so naive as to believe him truly innocent. No, she knew him too well for that. He wasn't innocent in his intentions for her, either, though she'd known that almost as long as she had been at the Little Palace.

Alina was overwhelmed as it was, having just killed a lot of people, and having just escaped from what seemed like inevitable death at the hands of kidnappers. So, for the first time in her life, she stopped to think. Truly think. To her surprise, Baghra did not press her for an answer, merely watched her with dark eyes.

"No," She said eventually.

"Why not?" The woman was scornful. "I had not taken you for one to submit so easily to a lifetime of servitude,"

"He'll find me," Alina swallowed. "Wherever I go, no matter how I hide. He won't stop. And anyone in his way will get hurt. What's stopping him threatening my friends? My family?"

There was more to it than that. She liked life at the Little Palace, no matter how much she hated court and the King and Queen. She fit in there, had good friends, and enjoyed her lessons. And for now, she had the Darkling's trust and regard. Whatever he wanted to use her for, she knew that he liked her at least, whatever that translated to. If she ran, that regard would disappear, and if he ever found her again he would treat her like a prisoner.

Baghra just huffed in anger, but did not say another word on the matter. Alina did not speak much either, just slowly hobbled towards the road.

"The boy won't be far away," The woman said eventually, when they reached where she had tied her horse. "I told one of his guards where I was going before I followed you. So did the younger prince, when he noticed you missing. They'd have sent word to him at once,"

A question occurred to her. "How did the cult get me out of the Little Palace? How did they get in, too? Duchess Belskaya was there - perhaps they pretended to be her guards?"

"Most likely," The woman shrugged. "The royal otkazat'sya guards are fools. They are more concerned with who is coming in than what is coming out. She has likely been arrested - the Lantsov boy saw you go off with her,"

"Who would've thought that mousey woman would be a secret fanatic," She said. "Who would've thought that I'd fall for that shit about wanting to see her son,"

"You're still young no matter how mature you think you are," Baghra said. "You learn, over time, not to trust another soul no matter how innocent they look,"

That was a gloomy outlook, but Alina could not disagree.

As night fell, the thundering of hooves could be heard in the distance. A group of oprichniki and Heartrenders, led by the Darkling, were riding through the night down the snowy road to meet them. She could've wept to see Fedyor amongst them.

Alina thought she and Baghra must be a strange sight. Two dark figures covered in blood and gore, filthy from travel and fighting, her still in her formal kefta from the ball.

The Black Heretic dismounted his horse whilst it was still cantering, and was at Alina's side in an instant. She didn't think she'd ever seen him run before. Part of her wanted to shrink away from his touch as he grabbed both of shoulders, considering what she had learnt, but it was mostly sheer relief she felt at the sight of him. He might be a manipulative, cold bastard but for now he meant safety. Now he was here, no one would dare hurt her.

"Is she hurt?" He demanded of Baghra, who shrugged. With a noise of frustration he turned to Alina, who simply held up her bandaged hand. His eyes blazed in dark fury as he took in the sight, carefully taking her wrist and examining it. "Healer," He barked, and a middle-aged man in a red kefta hurried over.

As the man worked in silence, carefully unbinding the filthy bandages as Alina fought the urge to cry out (biting her lip hard enough to make it bleed), the Darkling spoke to her.

"I suppose they're all dead?" He looked between Alina and his mother.

"The one who stole my finger got away," She muttered sourly, wincing as the Healer began to knit her flesh back together after purging any dirt or infection from the wound. There was no growing another finger, not without the one she had lost, but at least there would be no gruesome scarring.

"Most of them," Baghra said, as though she hadn't recently tried to betray her son, and would've done if Alina had agreed. "I forgot how sweet otkazat'sya screams could be,"

"Yes, I haven't seen you this lively in years," The Darkling said dryly, turning to address some of the Heartrenders and oprichniki. "You four, carry on. Hunt for any man or woman wearing the sigil of the Soldat Sol. Once you find them, ride them down,"

No doubt as to what that meant. The soldiers obeyed the grim command without question.

"Alina," Fedyor was one of the ones who had stayed, and the only one who dared approach her with the Darkling looking fit to Cut anyone who came close. "Here, take my spare kefta," He had removed the garment from his saddlebags, and wordlessly slid it around her shoulders, all his mannerisms so gentle they were almost painful. "This is almost like the night we met,"

She was mortified by the sob that burst from nowhere at that, clapping a hand to her mouth. No one had shown so much care for her in what felt like a very long time. It was easier to be around the Darkling and Baghra than the Heartrender's kindness. More sobs came from Alina despite her furious attempts to keep them in, and she lowered her head, tears falling onto the ground.

"Sorry. I'm being pathetic,"

"Ah, Solnishka, there's no shame in tears," Fedyor took her uninjured hand in his, which only made her cry harder. "Grown soldiers would struggle to make it through what you have these past two weeks,"

"Stop being so - so nice to me, it makes it worse,"

For a moment she thought he had listened, for Fedyor let go of her hand. But then she realised he had done as bidden, when the Darkling stepped in front of her and tilted her chin up to look at him. His touch brought familiarity and calm, and though part of her riled against it on principle, most of Alina embraced it.

"How many times did you cry in front of your kidnappers?" He asked her.

"When they cut off my finger," She had screamed and ranted and swore plenty of times, but not cried.

"Is that all?"

"Yes,"

"Then there you have it. You held yourself together in front of your enemies, and waited for safety before showing any sign of weakness. That is more than many adults would be able to achieve, let alone twelve-year-olds,"

"I did try to escape," It all came out in a rush. "I never stopped trying. I killed one of them, before Baghra came. They were going to kill me. I know it was stupid to get caught at all, but he came up behind me with a drug on a rag - "

"Alina," She broke off at his warning tone. "This was not your fault," The anger in his eyes was not directed at her.

"I'll get better," She vowed. "I'll get stronger. And if any of that cult come near me again, I'll kill them all,"

She insisted on riding on her own horse back to Os Alta, even though the Darkling wished for her to ride in front of him. He rode to her left instead, Baghra to her right, with Heartrenders on the outside, and the oprichniki outside them; it seemed they were not taking any chance of her being taken again. There were mutters amongst the remaining Grisha, none of whom had seen Baghra use her powers and wondered how the woman who had taught all of them had murdered over a dozen men; and how much younger and healthier she looked having done so.

"What will you do to Duchess Belskaya?" She asked in a dull voice the next morning. Her sleep that night had been troubled; as in, she had barely got any due to nightmares about her finger being cut off, about being stuck in that dark box, about being laid out before the Fold (or what she imagined the Fold would look like) and having a knife stabbed through her heart, about waking up and still being with the cult.

"I sent a messenger to the King before we left," The Darkling said. "She should be in custody by now. The King will have been almost as angry as I was at the prospect of losing Ravka's Sun Summoner to a bunch of fanatics,"

"They were taking me to the Fold," It came out in a rush. "They wanted to martyr me, so my full power would be revealed and destroy it,"

His grip on the reins went white-knuckled. "All that would have achieved was guaranteeing that the Fold remained standing forever,"

"I told them that," She said. "They didn't listen. People like that never listen,"

*

Alina had barely ridden into the courtyard of the Little Palace and dismounted her horse before she was barrelled into by Nina.

"You're back!" The girl sobbed. "I'm so glad they found you,"

Alina stiffened momentarily - this was the first truly close contact she had had with anyone who wasn't restraining her in a fortnight - but then relaxed into her friend's warm embrace, blinking back embarrassing tears.

"Yeah, we thought you were dead for sure," Viktor joked, placing a hand on her shoulder, though the sheer relief in his eyes was evident. She wished she had the presence of mind to come up with a witty reply. Then it struck her; his mother. Maybe he didn't know? He was cut off from the family, after all. Surely he wouldn't be here with her if he knew what had happened. For that matter, what had happened to the Duchess? Was she locked up somewhere, or dead already?

"What happened, Alina?" Katya asked with wide eyes.

"Did you kill them?" Zoya's hunger for information and revenge was the only sign that she had been terrified for Alina. "The ones that took you?"

"Saints, your finger!" Genya was with the group for once, her concern overriding her sense of duty and fear of consequences. Her observation started a barrage of further questions, yet they all fell silent when the Darkling dismounted and moved to stand behind Alina.

"Miss Starkova has suffered a difficult ordeal. Your concern is appreciated, however would be better placed in giving her time to rest and recover,"

He was right, Alina did just want to rest. But she was not in a good temper, and disliked him once again trying to separate her from her friends. So she said to the Black Heretic, "No. I want them to stay with me,"

He narrowed his eyes, and spoke as though she hadn't said a word. "All of you but Genya are dismissed," His tone was not to be argued with further. Alina would've, had she been in a better mental and physical state, and she did not want her friends to get in trouble.

"Go," She said gloomily when they all hesitated (though the fact they did warmed her heart). "I am fine, really. Just tired," One of the biggest lies she had ever told.

They went.

"Why is it that a portion of my younger Grisha listen to you better than I?" The Darkling raised an eyebrow at her as they walked inside, Genya beside her.

"They like me more," Alina shrugged. "I don't blame them,"

He tutted. "Could they not have cut your tongue out instead of a finger?"

To her own surprise, she laughed at that. "You're lucky I have a sense of humour," She told him. "Or else I'd slap you for that,"

Submerging herself in a warm, soapy bath was the sweetest thing she had ever felt. Her nine-year-old self would have thought she was a different person, Alina realised with vague amusement. There was always a moment of tenseness when she got into a bath, and she still poured water over her head with a jug rather than submerging her whole head underwater, but that was better than nothing. For this reason she still had not learned to swim, nor did she bathe in the public banya in the grounds of the palace, not wanting to show herself up.

The dirt melted off her in the warm water, and she scrubbed off the rest with a sponge. The first tub of water turned black, so they had to draw another. Genya's fingers massaged soap into her scalp, and Alina let herself relax for the first time in a fortnight. A Healer had come to remove her more serious cuts and bruises, though some would still scar.

Dressed in a fresh nightgown, curled up in clean bed-sheets and quilts with a warm drink, it was almost as though the whole ordeal had never happened. The ache in her bones told her otherwise, however, as did the absence of her ring finger.

"Genya," Her voice felt rather small, so she cleared her throat. "If you don't mind... could you stay tonight?"

Since that first time, Genya had stayed with her often; usually when the situation with the King was too much, and she wanted a cry or didn't want to be alone.

"Of course," Her friend smiled, kind as ever. "You've comforted me enough times. There's no shame in asking for it yourself,"

"Thanks," Alina awkwardly changed the subject, hating to feel so vulnerable. "Sorry if I wake you up. My dreams... won't be fun tonight,"

"If anyone is going to understand your nightmares, it's me, Alina,"

"Thanks," She said again, glad she would not be a burden. "The others... I love them, but they wouldn't understand. I don't want them to understand. I like having people who are separate, who I can forget everything with. But I love you as well, because you do understand and you're always here,"

"I love you too," Genya curled up on the other side of her huge bed. "I'm so glad you're home, Alina,"

She could not speak for a while, not trusting herself to not cry. "Me too,"

*

The next morning was not anywhere near so peaceful. Having had a bad night's sleep, haunted with nightmares and memories - though not as bad as it would have been if Genya wasn't there - Alina saw red at the sight of a familiar figure in the entrance hall of the Little Palace.

"You!" Before Katya and Zoya could stop her, she was flying down the staircase. She marched right up to the Apparat, in his brown robes, and it took physical effort to restrain from punching him in the face. "It's all your fault! Get out of here before I burn your fucking face off,"

People turned around to stare at her vicious tone and furious words. She didn't care.

"Miss Starkova?" The man put on a face of polite confusion, as though she hadn't just violently threatened him. "Whatever do you mean? I simply came to enquire after your health. Such a terrible ordeal to go through, especially for one so young. Why, you could liken your suffering to that of the saints themselves,"

The ball of scorching light was in her hands, ready to burn, to kill - then it was smothered by a sweeping blanket of darkness.

"Alina," The Darkling strode down the stairs, the shadows moving with him, and she reluctantly dropped her hands, though still glared bloody murder at the Apparat. "This man is our guest. Do show some civility," His tone was only mildly reprimanding, considering she had been attempting to publicly kill a man, insulting the Apparat whilst still keeping up a facade of propriety.

"This man arranged for his wretched cult to kidnap me," She said. "I don't care how innocent he acts - it's his fault I'm missing a finger,"

The Darkling opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, the Apparat lowered his voice and hissed at her, so only she could hear. "I may preach sermons about you, and may be in contact with certain members of the Soldat Sol, but that does not mean I am responsible for any extremist wings. Your kidnapping was not my doing - you are more useful to me than dying a martyr aged twelve. I tell you this only so you do not attempt any misguided revenge plan. I am on your side,"

Alina wanted to spit in his face and break his nose. Yet for whatever reason - perhaps the fact he had dropped his pious act for the first time - she believed him. Well, she believed him aside from the line that he was on her side. Her instincts were usually (key word, usually) right on who to trust, and who was lying.

She did not know how to respond to that, so settled for turning on her heel and leaving without another word.

The Darkling's voice stopped her. "Alina," She paused without looking around. "I was meaning to find you. After you confirmed she had a part in your kidnapping, more than just the prince's suspicions, Duchess Belskaya has been transferred from house arrest in the Grand Palace to the cells here. Would you like to accompany me to see her?"

"Duchess Belskaya?" Zoya had caught up. "Viktor's mother?"

She nodded, but did not look at her friend. All that rage she had not been able to take out on the Apparat finally had a target. Alina turned to the Darkling, taking his outstretched arm. "Yes,"

The cells were a part of the Little Palace that she had never been in before. The Darkling led her through a door on the ground floor that led down, under the palace. Whilst the rest of the building had moved with the times, down here still looked very old; stone walls, stone floors, iron bars on the cells, and lanterns in the place of gas lights. It looked like a dungeon from over three hundred years ago, which Alina supposed it was.

The Darkling stopped outside one of the cells, guarded by two oprichniki, and it took her a moment to realise that there was a person inside. The Duchess was huddled on the thin wooden bed in the far corner, so terrified she was actually shaking. Small, quiet sobs could be heard, but apart from that she did not make a sound. So her fear of Grisha had not been a lie, then. She wore no fine clothes or jewellery, only a plain pale blue dress.

Upon realising there were two newcomers, her pale face looked up sharply, eyes impossibly wide. Alina was struck then by how much she looked like Viktor, though she had never seen her brazen friend look so scared. Upon realising who exactly was stood in front of her cell, a hand clamped over her mouth and a small moan of terror escaped her.

"Your husband has renounced you, you know," The Darkling's voice was surprisingly calm, though cold as ice. "He went before the King this very morning and said you are no wife of his any longer, for he would never stay married to a traitor. He has washed his hands of you,"

"P-please," The Duchess sobbed, looking to Alina. "Please, Sankta, I did it for you! To set you - set you free of evil, so you could be our salvation from the d-darkness,"

She could not have said anything else that would more effectively destroy any sympathy Alina may have had for her. "You would have seen me dead," Her own voice sounded distant.

"But you would not really have died," The woman insisted, that fervent look in her eyes again, her faith stabilising her tone. "You would have lived on, forever, in the hearts and souls of the faithful. Your sacrifice would make you immortal,"

Her words made Alina's blood boil. She glanced at the Darkling; after Baghra's revelation, he was the closest thing to immortal that she knew of. Of course, he misunderstood the look she gave him and stepped in.

"Did you not think that there would be consequences of your actions?" He smiled, with a cruel edge. "How will it be, for your children to grow up without a mother? The youngest is five, is she not? They will have to live with the shame of their mother being a traitor. A selfish, foolish wretch of a woman, who did not think of them as she betrayed her country,"

Duchess Belskaya dropped to her knees before him. "Mercy," Was all she said, tears falling down her face, her shoulders wracked with sobs.

Alina had never seen anything quite so wretched. The Darkling did not seem moved. How many people had begged him like this before, in his impossibly long life? But before anyone could say anything else, there was the sound of a disturbance from the top of the stairs.

"Moi soverenyi," An oprichnik addressed the Darkling. "There's a young Inferni, upstairs, who insists on seeing the prisoner. He says he's her son. Viktor Belsky,"

Alina was already running up the stairs. She burst through the door, which slammed shut behind her, to come face-to-face with her friend, who looked more desperate than she had ever seen him. There was no sign of that ever-present grin on his face, no wicked glint in his eye.

"Alina, you can't let them kill her!" He grabbed her by both shoulders, imploring. "You can't, she didn't know what she was doing, she must've been tricked,"

She was lost for words. It was one thing hating the woman downstairs for what had happened to her. It was quite another being faced with the woman's panicked son, who she cared a lot for. "She wasn't tricked," She shook her head helplessly. "She confessed. She - she meant for them to kill me,"

"She wouldn't hurt a fly," Viktor insisted. "They must've lied, or tricked her, or - or - "

"I heard her say it," Alina's voice was quiet. "Viktor, I'm sorry, I - " She was realising now, what it would mean for his mother to be murdered on her behalf. One hell of a choice; revenge, or friendship.

"Let me see her," He turned away from her, addressing the oprichniki. "Please, she's my mother, she's scared of her own shadow, she'll be terrified down there,"

"I'll talk to him," She found herself saying; her terror at losing one of her best friends drowned out her anger and hate. "I'll tell him not to kill her. Maybe she can be sent away somewhere," Alina didn't even bother asking the guards, simply opened the door and rushed down the stairs, Viktor right behind her.

She rounded the corner and stopped dead.

"What?" Her friend demanded, unable to see past her. "Why have you stopped?"

"Go back upstairs," Alina was frozen where she stood, a cold feeling gripping her stomach. "You don't want to see,"

He tried to push past and she turned on the stairs, using all of her strength to try and stop him, but Viktor had the advantage; he was frantic, bigger than she was, and higher up. Alina was also still weak from captivity. Thus, he barrelled around the corner to see right into the cell, where two of the guards were in the process of wrapping the two pieces of his mother in a sheet.

It was Viktor's turn to stop in his tracks. Alina hurried to his side, grabbing his arm, just in case, because the Darkling stood right over there and she wouldn't put it past her friend to not throw himself at him. It's what she would've done, if it had been her mother dead on the floor.

"It was done the moment you left," The Darkling said, impassive. "I knew the boy would persuade you otherwise,"

She did not know what to feel at that. So Alina just nodded and led Viktor away. He went easily, as though in a daze. It was like leading a walking statue.

"It would have been quick," She had to break the terrible silence between them. "I've seen him do that before. They don't even know what happened,"

Her friend didn't say anything for a long time, staring straight ahead. "It wasn't your fault," His tone was choked, as though he was trying not to cry.

"Wasn't it?" She dared to ask, dreading the answer.

"You said you'd save her," Only so I wouldn't lose you. "You didn't know she was dead the moment you shut the door,"

Alina had nothing to say to that. "What do you want to do now?"

He looked at her, taking a breath. "I want to get Zoya. Then go to the forest. I need to fight someone, or I'll end up - " He broke off, voice catching in his throat, the words or I'll end up fighting the Darking going unspoken. "You two will be able to take it,"

That was exactly what they did. Alina was bruised, slightly scorched and aching by the time they returned to the palace. Viktor had tears running down his face as he shot balls of fire at them, but neither she nor Zoya mentioned it, merely fought back just as hard.

The Darkling came to her rooms that night. "I hope you do not resent me for executing the Duchess. The King handed her over to me knowing what would happen,"

"I don't," Alina just shook her head, rather numb. "If she wasn't my friend's mother, I'd have killed her myself," She felt terrible for thinking that this was the best case scenario; she had her revenge, and her friendship was still intact. It felt like cheating, somehow.

He smiled, and she wished he wouldn't. "I am glad you are home, Alina,"

Even over a week later, when a shadow of Viktor's smile began to return - even though he burned every letter he received from the Grand Palace, from his family - Alina did not take her friendship with anyone for granted any more. Not after her kidnapping, not after she could have lost Viktor forever. They tentatively fell back into the familiar patterns of teasing each other, laughing, joking, but she was well aware that that could all be snatched away at any moment.

In fact, Alina was not going to take anything for granted anymore, if she could help it. Despite rarely getting anything approaching a good night's sleep, she threw herself into lessons once the healers cleared her for it. Not so much languages, literacy and history - if anything she neglected those even more - but put far more effort into Grisha theory, training with Botkin and lessons with Baghra.

"Good," The miserable old woman sniffed, as though the word hurt her to admit, when Alina succeeded in turning her own hand invisible. It was much harder than stationary objects, as she needed her hands for summoning, and they were constantly moving. "Now the whole arm,"

Rather than arguing as she would have done before, Alina smiled tightly and tried once again.

*

There is something cathartic about having a character like Alina be openly vulnerable for once. I hope you liked this chapter, despite it being just as dark as the last one. I promise it gets a bit more light hearted in the next one! It is important here that Alina chose friendship over revenge, despite not having forgiven Viktor's mother; she values her friends deeply, more so than vengeance.

As always, please let me know what you think - particularly with how I dealt with the Duchess. Many of you have mentioned the fact I update so often - I wrote most of this already, so up to chapter 30 (ish) the updates should stay very regular. After that, who knows. I know what direction I want this story to go and have everything outlined, but chapters may be published a bit slower.