When the hooded figure was ushered quietly into the Darkling's tent, Alina had not expected it to be Genya. She and Aleksander had been well on the way to an argument; earlier that afternoon, he had been pulled aside by one of Tarasova's people to hear a message, and refused to tell her what it was despite the fact the news made his face darken. Genya's arrival was a well-timed distraction. She wondered if it was deliberate - quite possibly - but in that moment, could not bring herself to care.

Thank the saints. Alina stood up sharply, drinking in the sight of her friend; pale, hollow-eyed, dirty and malnourished, but she was alive, which was all that mattered. What had she been through under the Queen's not-so-tender care? Genya let out a small sob and hurried towards her, practically flinging herself into her arms.

Alina pressed her face into her friend's red hair, almost sick with relief. "I'm sorry I left you behind," She murmured, hugging her tighter. "I can't even tell you how much I've missed you," Whilst she loved her other friends dearly, she rarely wanted to appear vulnerable in front of them; they distracted her from the darker sides of her life, and she did not want them to know the worst of her, even if it often unintentionally slipped out. It was always Genya who had been there in her most troubled moments, her oldest friend aside from Mal.

"I've missed you too," Genya sniffed. "So, so much,"

Alina pulled back. "It must have felt sweet, pouring that poison down his throat,"

Her friend let out a choked laugh. "His eyes were open - it felt wonderful. A shame he's still clinging on to life,"

"In many ways, yes. But now he'll live to see his throne taken from him. The poison did its job," It had certainly destabilised the Lantsovs even more, and left the Queen in charge; an unpopular choice, given her Fjerdan roots. "What did they do to you? You look terrible,"

Genya rolled her eyes. "Thank you very much, Alina - tactful as ever,"

"Oh come on, who are you kidding? Let's get some food in you, then you can bathe and get to sleep in... well, not a feather bed, a camp bed will have to do - "

"Alina," The Darkling cut in. She had almost forgotten he was there. "You are expected at the final council in ten minutes,"

She glared at him, still angry about whatever it was he was keeping from her. The words 'fuck off' were on her lips, until she caught herself; she really did have to be there, if only to check his worst impulses and make sure their plans didn't involve anything too evil. "I know," Alina turned back to Genya. "I'll see you later,"

"I understand," The girl smiled faintly; out of everyone, of course she did.

"Just one thing - is there anything you have overheard while you were in the palace that anyone would feel the need to keep from me?"

"Alina," Aleksander warned before Genya could even open her mouth, a cold edge to his tone. "We have already discussed this. My private conversations do not concern you,"

Don't speak to me like I'm a child. Her eyes flashed in anger. "I wasn't talking to you," She turned back to her friend with a raised eyebrow. Genya seemed torn, her loyalty to Alina outweighed by her fear of the Darkling. The hesitation said it all.

"Go, Miss Safina," He said. "You've earned a rest, and to not be caught up in Alina's petty disagreements. I will have a Corporalki kefta delivered to you after the battle,"

"Thank you, moi soverenyi," Though she glanced guiltily at Alina, this gift clearly meant a lot to Genya. A blatant manipulation on his part, both to reward Genya and guilt Alina into not pushing any further.

Gritting her teeth, she turned to her friend. "Well done. I'm pleased for you," She meant it.

"Goodnight, Alina," Genya said, a soft hand on her arm. "And if I don't see you before the battle - good luck,"

With that, she left.

Slowly, Alina turned back to the Darkling, her expression as cold as his own. "If you start playing mind games with me again, I will make you regret it. I called you out when I was nine years old, and now I have the strength to back myself up,"

"Do not act like an impertinent child and you will not be treated like one,"

The look she threw his way was dark, ugly, her tone even more so. "I am merely concerned, moi Soverenyi, that tomorrow I am supposed to fight a battle to win you your throne - something I am still not entirely convinced is the right decision to make - and you are keeping important information from me. If the understanding we have come to, and the respect you now show me, is merely temporary, then good fucking luck on your own,"

Fuck the meeting. She would not help by brooding in her seat, glowering at everyone. If he could not refrain from being a monster for a couple of hours in her absence, she was fighting for the wrong man. Alina left without turning around, despite his sharp command for her to stay, batting his shadows away with a slash of light.

*

Alina stood at the edge of the Second Army camp, looking out at the walls of Os Alta, about half a mile to the east. Despite the late hour, riots and shouting could still be heard from within the city, even from here. The people did not trust their King to protect them anymore. They never had, really, but now any veil of care and security had been well and truly torn off. They were scared of the army outside their walls, scared of the Grisha, scared of the Darkling; maybe even scared of her? As far as the average commoner of Os Alta was concerned, dawn would bring the end of the world as they knew it, and no one was there to save them. Who could blame them for the unrest?

Or, worse, they believed that she was the one to save them. Their beloved sun saint, who had been prophesied in religious scripture for hundreds of years. Never mind that she was the one bringing darkness to their doorsteps.

Her mood was oddly numb; she felt detached from the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, from the urge to flee north, or south, or anywhere but here. It was not fear of battle. She had never really been afraid of a fight on any scale. Quite the opposite; she eagerly anticipated it. Many had told her how strange this was, but compared to the nerves that others described, it had always seemed like a blessing. No, what she felt now was something else, something that had been brewing for a while. Dread?

Footsteps sounded behind her; she turned her head, as Aleksander came to stand at her side. "I wondered where you had gone," He'd wondered if she had left for good, no doubt.

She ignored the implied question. In the darkness, away from the lanterns and campfires, it would be hard to identify who they were. They could just be two Grisha, normal Grisha, contemplating what would unfold the next day. For a moment, she wished they were.

"This feels like the last night we have," In typical Alina fashion, she had not known what words would come out when she opened her mouth. The moment they were spoken, she regretted them.

He scoffed. "There is no chance of either of us dying tomorrow,"

"I know," She bit back. "That's not what I meant,"

"Then what did you mean?"

She let out a breath, her irritation stoked by the resigned dread curdling inside her. Alina had resigned herself to very few things in her life, for good reason; she liked to be able to act, to change things, to not to settle for a bad choice. "When the sun sets tomorrow, you will be Tsar of Ravka. For better or worse," His blank, stony stare was almost audible, even in the darkness, and she shook her head. "Never mind,"

"It is a little late for cold feet, Alina," There was a note of warning there. He was wary, she knew, of her changeable temperament and unpredictable, often reckless decisions. Particularly on the eve of such an important day.

"I'm not going to ruin your plans, don't worry. You have one day, at least, of me doing everything I am supposed to do,"

That mollified him somewhat, but not entirely. "And after that one day?"

Alina just smiled, without humour. There was a pause before she next spoke.

"Do you ever wonder what changed between us? Besides the obvious. There was a time, not that long ago, when I'd have shuddered at the idea of you as King," She wasn't quite sure that time was over yet, but for some reason, she was on his side, actively helping him. Not that she'd have opposed him, for fear of aiding the Lantsovs, but she should have run away, disappeared, or such like.

"You grew up," He replied. "Stopped being an angry, overly-suspicious, half-feral little girl, for the most part. You accepted that sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do, to get what you want,"

"That's not it. I'm still all those things, just older. It was you that changed. Changed how you view me, at least,"

He tilted his head. "How so?"

"When you realised that I'd sooner break than bend to your will - and if I broke, I would run, and you'd be alone forever. When my powers got stronger and you realised I might actually be a threat, if you made me hate you. When I had the strength to hold you to your word. When I punched you in the face the first time you kissed me. This," She gestured between them. "Was never inevitable. It still isn't. I hope you know that I only let you so close because you changed - you dropped the lies, stopped messing with my head, gained some respect for me, and showed me yourself. I'm only helping you win your throne for the same reason. And if you change for the worse, when that crown is on your head, don't think for a second I won't leave,"

He did not reply straight away. "I do not doubt that. But you should also know that I would not have granted you the respect and regard that I do, had you not been worthy of it. In near five hundred years, there has never been another who I could call an equal. I could have done this without you, I think - with a puppet Sun Summoner to move the Fold - but I do not believe the throne would be won so smoothly nor securely. Certainly not with as much of the First Army and aristocracy on side. You made the people love you, and cemented their hatred of the Lantsovs,"

"You'd have been a tyrant without me," She snorted. "Putting down rebellions left, right and centre," He did not deny it. "I could easily have hated you, I think. I may still. We have an eternity to hate each other,"

"And now?"

Alina smiled wryly. "I think you know. Don't make me say it for the sake of your ego, Aleksander, when you can't say it back,"

"I love you as much as I am capable of loving anyone," He said it so casually. "And cannot see that changing," From another man, it might have been a passionate declaration. From him, it was not. But still, it took the words from her throat.

You won't disarm me that easily. "Then fine," She made herself say it like it was insignificant. "I cannot speak for tomorrow, the next day, or the days to come, but I love you, as you are now. I also hate you, a little, at the same time,"

That earned a short laugh, and his arm around her waist. Alina leaned her head on his shoulder, smile fading. The source of her dread for the day to come was easy to identify now; the feeling of chains, some of her own making, tightening around her.

*

That moment was fresh in her mind when they burst through the city gates the next day, purely because of how much it contrasted with what she saw of him in battle.

It wasn't much of a battle, in truth. The defences around the Outer City were weak; clearly the royals and wealthy had gathered most of their soldiers and guards to the Inner City, leaving the poorer citizens to fend for themselves. Which, to their credit, they did do. However, homemade barricades and townsfolk with rusty cleavers and battered old pistols did not have any chance of standing against a trained army. For many, including the few official guards present, all it took was the sight of Alina and the Darkling, following the first wave, to surrender. For the rest, all it took was seeing one of them use the Cut. Those who surrendered were simply told to give up their weapons and go free. There was no point making unnecessary enemies, or making this more of a bloodbath than it had to be.

After they saw the invading forces were not out to rape and pillage the Outer City - Alina had personally ensured that the First Army leaders would keep their troops in line - the citizens of Os Alta were a lot less hostile. Most people watched from their doorways or lined the streets with wary eyes as they marched through, still far from friendly. Alina did not care; she had been in a foul mood all morning. People - Aleksander in particular - were keeping something from her, still, something important.

"Give them a show," General Zlatan said quietly, riding up beside her. "They're scared. They want their Un-saint," The Darkling glanced over, but did not protest.

Alina would have said no, had he not clarified. "Fine," She grudgingly sent up tendrils of golden light, beautiful and harmless, attracting a lot of eyes her way. Predictably, there came several cries of 'Sankta', 'saviour', even 'Sol Koroleva'. You're all wrong. Some dropped to their knees, or prayed openly for salvation. The sight didn't make her want to vomit as it may have done only a couple of years ago, but it still made her skin crawl with discomfort. At least no one came too close, with the Darkling at her side. It worked, though; on the whole, the gesture seemed to put more people at ease. Lots of people knew her here, and word had spread.

It was harder getting into the Inner City. These walls were higher, stronger, and much better manned. Ravka's armies were not used to sieging a city; there was little call for such tactics while defending the borders, even if they had had the time and resources. In the end, it took the Squallers creating a shield of air to misdirect bullets, and Inferni sending balls of fire to blow up the gates. This was hindered by the relatively low numbers of Grisha fighting today. It had been a hard decision to make, to send in less Grisha and more First Army. The Second Army alone could have taken the city, in much less time, but that would have seemed much more like an invading force. Thus, the majority of the Grisha had been kept back, and they were outnumbered by otkazat'sya three to one.

Once through the walls, they were fighting in the streets; streets lined with mansions, fountains and luxury townhouses. It was strange, seeing the ordinarily pristine streets descended into battle and chaos, white marble spattered with blood. Though aside from the soldiers and guards they fought, the area seemed deserted. Alina had assumed all the wealthy were just quivering in their cellars, however, upon marching into one of the houses to stop a group of First Army soldiers looting the place, she realised the truth. All of the household servants were quivering in the cellars, but the wealthy homeowners had gone to the palace, barricading themselves in with the Lantsovs.

"Those cowardly bastards," She seethed to Vorontsov, who was the closest aristocrat she could find to let loose her anger upon. "They could have at least brought their staff with them!"

"Many of these empty houses are owned by relatives of the lords who pledged themselves to us," He said. "They've been quietly leaving the city for the past few weeks, for their houses in the countryside, to avoid the King's retribution once he heard. Others, however... you are right. They have just gone to hide in the palace," The man had the grace to look disapproving. "Another sign of the rot of cowardice plaguing our upper classes," Vorontsov was famously of the old school belief that the Ravkan nobility was a warrior class, rather than the pampered, spoiled parasite it had become.

The looting problem, and the riots, was solved by sending in Healers and Fabrikators, along with a large portion of First Army, to restore order to the city in a peaceful(ish) way. The rest, Summoners and Heartrenders, marched on the palace walls, which were even more heavily defended than the Inner City. Even so, it was not overly difficult getting through.

Alina baulked when she rounded the ruined gates; stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the magnificently ugly building cut not-so-cleanly in half, bisected by the golden scar gouged out of the ground. The Darkling had stopped too, some distance away, and she saw him eyeing it with both curiosity and wariness. Did he hear it too, whispering in a way not unlike the Fold? Whispers, echoes, distant screams. Her father had died there. So had Vasily, and many others.

Her hesitance was fully shattered, however, when she saw the royalist soldiers blockading the Little Palace, essentially holding it hostage. When their forces moved on the Grand Palace, they would attack. Of course they would stoop so low as to threaten the children, teachers and elderly Grisha who lived there!

She shared a look with Aleksander, who also looked furious at the sight, seconds away from abandoning the fight for the Grand Palace in order to defend the place he had built up from the ground and watched over for centuries. I'll go. He nodded, jaw set, and she smiled tightly. He trusted her that much, at least.

"Baladin, your company to the Little Palace. You have command. Alina, with them," He swiftly barked the order, and the Grisha began to organise themselves. It was not missed that he did not ask for any First Army; they were needed to storm the Grand Palace, as were most of the Grisha. This would be an easy barricade to break with one company, which typically contained a dozen Heartrenders, two dozen Etherialki and four to five Healers. The Queen would not have allowed her best soldiers, nor a large number of soldiers at all, to die trying to spite the Grisha when they could be defending her. Equally, most of the Grisha inside were not defenceless, nor were the oprichniki guards.

Alina followed Captain Baladin at a stride across the lawns. Zoya appeared at her side, Viktor at the other, as they were already part of this company; Nina was part of the group following the Darkling, whilst Katya and Kasper were still in the Outer City.

"Starkova," Baladin called back and she hastened to the front. "Can you shield and conjure illusions at once?"

"Yes, sir," She might be the Darkling's favourite, the famed Sun Summoner, but her rank in battle was technically still a private due to her youth and relative military inexperience. "Fighting at the same time as shielding such a large group and complex illusions might be unwise, though," Trying to focus on all three together was not a good idea. She was being more careful with managing her control since the Scar.

Baladin nodded. "Fine. You stay at the back, in that case. I want a shield, and for our forces to appear twice the size, spread out to divert their attention away," He addressed everyone together. "No one steps around Starkova's shield unless you want a bullet to the head. Heartrenders, up the front - you are the first wave. We've a high number of Squallers, so pair with Inferni or Tidemakers - Etherialki are the second wave, a ranged attack, but for saint's sake be precise - I don't need to remind any of you that there's Grisha inside. The enemy surrounds the building - we take out those on this side first, and move as one clockwise. Don't rely on those inside to offer assistance - their priority will be protecting the children if the enemy starts attacking the palace,"

Alina raised her shield, and conjured the illusion of double the number of Grisha marching with them, spreading the decoys out so it was unclear who was real. By now, they were close enough to see the fear on the faces of the royalists blockading the Little Palace. They hadn't started to attack, yet; how could they, when they'd be caught on two fronts between those inside and Alina's force? She realised then the point of them was to siphon off Grisha soldiers from the fight in the Grand Palace.

They did have a hostage, however, held between two guards with a pistol to their temple.

"Saints, who have they got?" Viktor groaned at Alina's side. "It's going to be a nightmare getting them out alive,"

"Who was stupid enough to go outside?" Zoya's voice was tight with concern despite her harsh words.

But then Alina - who had also been quite concerned - saw who it was and felt like laughing. "It's fine - it's only Baghra,"

Baladin narrowed his eyes at her, having heard that. "Baghra is a highly respected member of the teaching staff. Whatever your personal grievances, Starkova - "

"I didn't mean it like that!" She protested, as Viktor snorted under his breath. "She can handle herself, is what I meant! The moment we start attacking, she'll get herself out,"

"She's just one Squaller," Baladin's second-in-command said doubtfully. "And an old one at that, who hasn't seen active combat in living memory, no matter how handy she might be with her cane,"

"Trust me," Alina was unconcerned. "I've seen her in a fight, she's better than me - they haven't even cuffed her hands apart. She's known the Darkling for a long time. That woman will come out of this without a scratch on her, if we give her a distraction,"

Baladin assessed her for a moment, before nodding once. "Fine. Stick to the plan, and for your sake, Starkova, I hope you're right," He raised his voice to address the soldiers blockading the palace. "Surrender and release your hostage and we will let you leave without trouble. Refuse, and you die,"

"Attack and the woman dies," Was the answering response.

Baghra let out a harsh laugh, unconcerned by the gun to her head. "Better men than you have tried, boy,"

Baladin did not hesitate, giving the order to advance.

The otkazat'sya soldiers didn't stand a chance, of course. It was harder than storming the walls had been, because none of the Grisha wished to damage the Little Palace and those still inside, and these soldiers were better trained than those in the city had been; less expendable, she supposed. They were still no match for Heartrenders, Etherialki and her own shield, with the illusions only serving to confuse them even further in the heat of battle.

But Alina had never fought beside her friends before, not in a battle like this. It wasn't like Fjerda. So, as the royalists made their last stand, when Viktor went down with a cry after drifting out from behind her shield, blood spurting from the side of his head, nothing could have stopped her running to his side. The shield stayed up, and the illusions did not flicker, but she had no regard for her own safety, flashbacks to the awful gunshot ringing across the courtyard and through her father's head fresh in her mind.

She had only just realised that the wound was a superficial one and had merely taken off part of her friend's ear rather than his skull, when the bullets hit her hand and shoulder.

The shield did flicker then, and the illusions went entirely. Her shoulder felt like someone had punched it, and would leave a nasty bruise, but her bulletproof kefta prevented any real damage. Her hand, however... Alina screamed at the exploding pain; despite everything she had been through, she'd never been shot before.

"Starkova!" Baladin yelled at her, quite rightly angry.

She was already on the ground, kneeling at Viktor's side, so did not have to focus on remaining standing, only on reinforcing the shield. It worked, but with her wounded hand Summoning felt like agony. A Healer was at her side in seconds, doing a quick battlefield patch-up job that stopped the bleeding but did not heal the wound completely; that would take too much time for now. Stupid, stupid, stupid. As they began to tend to Viktor, who was losing a lot of blood, she staggered to her feet, hand throbbing unpleasantly, cursing her own idiocy.

The battle was mostly won, however, and it was scarcely a few minutes before the stragglers had either surrendered or been killed. Wincing, and cradling her wounded hand, Alina let the shield drop.

"Stupid girl," Baghra appeared at her side, scornful. She did not look like she'd lifted a finger to help, or put herself in harm's way at all. Somehow Alina had not seen her during the battle at all, though there were some suspicious-looking corpses around the other side of the building. "You could've killed everyone,"

"For once I'm inclined to agree," Zoya said, clearly irritated.

"The shield was only down for a few seconds," Alina snapped back. "No one was hurt," She grimaced. "But they could have been. It was stupid, I know, I wasn't thinking, I just saw someone else I love getting their brains blown out and... reacted,"

"Your discipline is shocking," Zoya was still not impressed - fair enough - but turned her attention to Viktor, who was still having his ear patched up by a Healer. "You as well - what were you doing, drifting outside the shield? Were you daydreaming? As you and Alina helpfully demonstrated, the keftas are not bulletproof if you get shot in the head or hand!"

There wasn't much either of them could say to defend themselves. Alina and Viktor just shared a grimace of mutual understanding; they had both fucked up. Zoya would have most likely had more to say, but they were interrupted.

"Lady Alina!" A terrified-looking maid was running towards her across the lawns. She looked like a spooked horse, eyes wide with terror, chest heaving, clearly having been sent through the fighting from the Grand Palace. "I have a - have a message,"

She was not in the mood to be nice. "What? From who?"

"A - a private message,"

"Fine," Alina grabbed the shaking girl's elbow, dragging her into a somewhat private alcove on the side of the building, behind a chimney.

The girl shrieked as she nearly trod on a corpse, but at Alina's raised eyebrow, took a breath and recounted her message in a stuttering voice. "Her - Her Majesty the Queen s-sent me to make you aware that - "

"Cut the formalities and get on with it,"

The girl looked ready to burst into tears, though as instructed, gave up any pretence of propriety. "She has your mother, and your brother. She'll give them back if you give her safe passage to Fjerda,"

White-hot fury pulsed through Alina. That hateful, rotted cunt of a woman. This was what no one had told her. Her family being in danger, being hostages, had been kept from her; was it because they believed her unstable enough to make another golden scar? Or was it because they wanted her focused on the battle, the task at hand? Perhaps they were right; the last thing on the mind now was winning that stupid throne. That didn't make her any less furious.

"Where is she?" The girl's mouth opened like a fish, no noise coming out. Alina slammed her into the wall with a forearm to the neck."Where. Is she? I'm going to tear her stinking, wrinkled head off!" Ordinarily, she would have had more sympathy for the poor girl, who the Queen had selfishly sent through what was effectively a warzone to deliver her message, rather than spare one of her guards. But the rage, and fear, of her family being used against her was blinding, overpowering. Not again, she couldn't lose someone again.

"Her chambers," The girl all but squeaked. "Her chambers on the third floor, please, Sankta, I'm sorry, please let me go,"

People begging was not enjoyable. "Sorry," She forced herself to say, her own voice distant over the wave of her anger. "I am sorry. It's not your fault. But don't call me Sankta. Go and hide somewhere, away from the Queen,"

The girl needed no encouragement and scurried away like a frightened mouse.

Alina considered telling the others where she was going. But they might try and stop her, and she felt guilty enough about dropping the shield due to her own stupidity that she might actually listen. Or worse, snap at them in her fury at her family being used against her, when she had no right to be snapping at anyone after her performance that day. So instead, she slipped away, telling no one where she was going.

*

Inside the palace was chaos. Royal guards were being overpowered all around her; the smart ones surrendered, realising they did not get paid enough to die for the sake of people who did not know or care they existed, whilst the stupid ones died fighting. If it had been jarring seeing the streets of the Inner City in the heat of battle, it was even more strange seeing fighting in the luxurious corridors and halls of the Grand Palace. All servants they found hiding were left alone, told to stay out of the way; any aristocrats they found were hauled to the throne room, to await judgement.

Alina was in a foul mood, her half-healed hand throbbing painfully. She let her rage gather in full, stepping out into the hallway with no care for stray bullets, the burning hot shield of light around her more than enough protection. She wasn't going to let the fucking thing drop this time. Ignoring the cries for her to be careful, she walked ahead of their advancing army; walked straight through the defending line, her shield melting any bullets before they got too close, Cutting any men that got in the way. Burning, in every sense of the word, a path to the Queen's chambers. Guards and soldiers fled from her as she moved through the halls, their faces paling at the formidable sight of the vengeful Sun Summoner.

When she rounded the corner, she found the Queen's door barricaded, heavily guarded from the outside and no doubt the inside too. These men were clearly the best of the best; the tallest, the strongest, with the hardest faces and best aim. A few blanched at the sight of her; all aimed their guns. None ran. They looked at her like she was a monster, an unnatural creature, a lion with a bloodied muzzle. Something deadly that needed to be put down.

It was quiet here. Any resistance nearby had either fled or been cut down. Alina's voice cut through the unnaturally still corridor. "The Queen wishes to see me,"

That had clearly been before they had seen her so easily slaughter anyone in her path. Not one of the guards moved.

She smiled, cold. "It's too late for her to change her mind. Move aside," There was a heavy pause. "Would you really die for a selfish woman who would view your deaths as her due? A woman who would cut your children's throats and think nothing of it, if it meant she got to continue her life of luxury?"

A few shifted uncomfortably, perhaps wondering the same thing. Most held strong.

"Who says we die and you don't?" A younger man called out, full of bravado despite his obvious fear.

Alina's smile faded, and she nodded over her shoulder. "Everyone back there who didn't run,"

"Better die with honour than flee and betray our Queen,"

She raised an eyebrow, disdainful, slightly incredulous. "Is that right?" Saints, was it a requirement of the royal guards to be thick as pig shit, and unable to think for yourself?

"As if there is any honour in siding with the Darkling and his whore," Another said.

She tilted her head. "That missed whatever mark you were aiming for. Now if you'd called me 'Sankta', I really would be upset,"

An older man spoke then, in a kinder tone, trying to reason with her. "You don't have to serve him, you know. If you surrender now, I'm sure there's a path to forgiveness. You have a sacred gift, my lady. Repent, and we will not harm you,"

She had to laugh at that. And what, rot away in a convent for decades as the Apparat's puppet? "I killed the Crown Prince - the Queen would sooner have my head. And if my mother or my brother are harmed in any way, I will have hers,"

A gun fired. The bullet melted two feet from her face. She did not even flinch.

"Last chance," Alina addressed the horrified guards. "Leave. Or else you're in my way,"

One man ran. Then another. And two more. There were several scornful shouts of 'coward' or 'traitor' after them from the others. That still left over ten in front of the door.

One beat.

Two.

Three.

With a wave of her hand, half of them were Cut in two. The rest opened fire, and were felled with a second blow. Alina's next move burned the heavy oak doors to charcoal and ash in the blink of an eye. The occupants of the room screamed; the Queen had gathered the remaining ladies and children of the court. A gesture of good faith, sharing her protection... until you realised they were human shields. They shrank away from her as she strode inside, pressing against the walls, mothers hiding their children's faces in their skirts. She knew many of them, from her time in court, and felt a flicker of guilt. They would be fine, she wasn't going to hurt them. She wasn't the one using them as cannon fodder.

The Queen's remaining guards were in the centre of the room, holding pistols to the heads of her mother and Misha. Her visibly pregnant mother. What? That threw Alina off for a second, confusion briefly overtaking her rage. Only for a second though; the sight of the hateful woman standing proudly in between her mother and brother, chin raised up in haughty defiance, was enough to shove any other feelings aside.

"Alina Starkova," The Queen spat, clearly going for a long, self-righteous speech. "I swore that the next time I looked upon you - "

Alina let her lips curl into a feral smile. "Jabber away all you like - I can still see the fear in your eyes,"

The Queen's expression twisted in an ugly look of true hatred. "I do not fear you - I despise you. You murdered my son, in cold blood," He murdered my father. Alina refused to rise to it. "Try anything and I will not hesitate to shoot the sorry remains of your wretched little family,"

She wanted nothing more than to Cut her in half, but refrained, instead getting straight to the point. "What do you want?"

"Safe passage to Fjerda for myself and several of my ladies. Accompanied by an escort of loyal guards, and an entourage befitting my rank," The Queen clearly had enough low cunning to hedge her bets with Alina rather than the Darkling. Smart, seeing as Alina was entirely willing to indulge her; as much as she wanted to see Tatiana Lantsov suffer, she wanted her mother and brother back alive more.

Alina laughed aloud. "No care for your husband or country, then? You'll just flee back to your brother, alone, and beg for sanctuary?"

The woman smiled tightly. "There is not much left of my husband to care for. Nor this backwater country,"

"Fine," She shrugged. "I don't care enough about you to protest, and you have no claim to the Ravkan throne. I'll get you safe passage to Fjerda, and even put it in writing, if you like," Her tone became much less agreeable. "Now let them go,"

"Will your new Tsar agree to that?" The woman did not move, nor signal her guards. "Do I trust your promise? Or will you both just have me killed the moment I hand these two over. I'm no fool - the word of a witch should not be relied upon. I'm bringing them with me as far as the border, as insurance,"

Alina moved faster than most could blink. It was lucky that the Queen had picked the tallest, strongest guards to attend her in her moment of need. Her mother was a small woman, and Misha was only young; her two Cuts sailed over their heads, slicing through the heads of the men who threatened them.

Her mother, brother, and the Queen - who had stupidly stood right between them - were all drenched in a huge amount of blood. Nearly everyone in the room screamed, or jumped back in alarm. Alina ignored them all, striding forward and grabbing Tatiana Lantsov none-too-gently by the arm. She tried to struggle, but Alina easily twisted her arm behind her back in a well-practised manoeuvre; Alina's arms were lean with muscle, unlike the ageing woman, who had never done so much as open her own curtains in the morning. Vengeance is sweet.

Ignoring the woman's shrieks of protest, she looked to her mother. "Who's the father?"

Saran Starkova's anger visibly swelled. "You cover me in blood, Alina, cutting off a man's head right behind my own, and have the nerve to imply that I am an adultering whore!"

The situation was so absurd that she burst out laughing. "Sorry - I was just shocked, that's all. Sorry about the blood, too. I could have listened to her squawking for longer, but I thought this would be less painful for everyone. Those two included," She nodded at the bloody corpses on the ground. "There's a basin over there, just use that. Take any clothes you like from the wardrobes, Mother. She won't be needing them anymore. I'll see you later, when this is all... dealt with,"

With that, she left.

"Alina, let us take her," Two Heartenders approached her in the corridor, nodding to the queen. "The Tsar will want her in the throne room - I believe he went to the former King's chambers personally,"

"Of course he did," She muttered. "Thanks, but I'll take her. I've fantasised about this for a long time - will you shut up?" She snapped at the still-protesting woman. "Do you want me to advocate for your release back to your family in Fjerda or not? Because I could easily kill you now, say you got caught up in the crossfire, and very few people would care,"

She shut up after that, but sent Alina the most poisonous, hate-filled glare she had ever received. Alina just laughed in response, continuing to manhandle her to the throne room.

The former King was in the middle of the room, forced to his knees alongside a handful of Lantsov cousins; or perhaps not forced, he still looked incredibly weak, but conscious and aware at least. He still wore his crown; no doubt he had demanded it for some final moment of pride and dignity. It was ruined by the fact he was still in his nightclothes, and that even kneeling appeared to take considerable effort.

Her gaze skimmed over him, however, and the other nobles held prisoner, landing on the raised dais at the front of the room. Aleksander's eyes locked with her own as he sat down with an almost painful finality, claiming the throne of Ravka. He suited it, Alina noted somewhat bleakly, as the darkness rose behind him. This moment had been over four hundred years in the making. There were still red flecks on his face from the battle, hidden in the black of his kefta. So much for the throne not being built on blood this time.

"Moi Tsar," Ivan - no doubt delighted to be reunited with his leader, not that you would know it from the look on his face - led the collective murmur and bow that followed. Vorontsov was there, and Zlatan, along with many other important people who had fought with them, and the Second Army council. All of them showing deference to the new King.

Alina did not bow, but lingered at the doorway, letting the moment pass in silence until it ran its course. "I hate to interrupt," She strode forward and kicked the former Queen's knees out from underneath her, so she too was forced to the ground, next to her husband and his family. All eyes were fixed on her.

"As dramatic an entrance as ever, Alina," His tone was dry. "Why are you both covered in blood?"

She tasted blood on her teeth, and grinned just to shock him. No doubt it made a disturbing sight; one of the captive nobles let out a sob. "She held a gun to my mother's head,"

Understanding flashed in his eyes, confirming he had known of her family's presence here all along. He caught her anger at him, too, and knew they would be discussing it later. For now, however, he settled for a platitude. "Every Lantsov will face trial for their crimes against Ravka. And their crimes against you," Like both of those things were equal. Again, from another man that would have been sweet. From him, it was anything but.

"My husband may be too damaged to speak," The former Queen started, tone vicious, meeting the Darkling's eyes with hate. "And his kin too cowardly. But I will speak for them. Witches and heretics have stolen what is owed to the Lantsovs by virtue of birth. To all the traitors that sided with them, I hope you realise that they want nothing more than to tear this country apart, to turn it to sin, hedonism and anarchy," That sounded like a lot of fun to Alina. "To enslave its people, disrupt the natural order, and leech Ravka's resources for their own gain,"

"Like you did?" Alina couldn't help but scoff, earning a round of laughter from their supporters. "I don't think it's sunk in for you yet - you are no longer the Queen. No one has to listen to you. Nothing you say is worth anything. And you should learn to watch your tongue, because now there are consequences to the words that come out of your mouth,"

"Kill me and my brother, King Einar of Fjerda, will raze this sorry country to the ground,"

"Such loyalty to Ravka is admirable," The Darkling said, earning more laughter. "Your brother cares deeply for you, does he?"

"We were - are - very close. His rage at my murder would topple your sham government,"

"But would it topple the Fold?" His tone took on a dangerous note, shadows reaching out, gliding menacingly around the woman. "Let me tell you what will happen, Tatiana. You will face trial before a court, so everyone may see what you truly are. I will ransom you back to Fjerda - you had better hope you and your brother were close enough to justify paying fifty million Krydda for your release,"

A murmur went around the hall at the mention of such a significant sum. As currencies went, Ravka's Vlachka was relatively weak, whereas Fjerda's was nearly as strong as the Kerch Kruge. Fifty million Krydda would translate to almost one-hundred million Vlachka. Truly a King's ransom. The Grimjers could afford it, but it was a bold offer to make.

But the Darkling was not finished. "If he does not pay, you will be executed alongside your husband. And the words that come out of your mouth decide if whether your death is quick, or we reintroduce the traditional Fjerdan pyre,"

Dead silence in the throne room. The former Queen opened and shut her mouth like a fish, before eventually not saying anything at all. Alina could not even object. She had seen the remains of Kasper's grandmother on a pyre, and thought that was a fitting punishment for the vile woman before her.

Satisfied, the Darkling turned to her with a faint smile. "Now, Alina, I believe it is time,"

All eyes fell upon her. She knew exactly what he meant for her to do, and hated that he'd not asked beforehand. He knew she would say no. She still could. But she had promised him one day of playing along - a subconscious attempt to make up for whatever she was bound to do later on - so bared her teeth at him in a semblance of a smile. She'd better finish what she started.

Alina tried not to let any hint of her reticence show, striding towards the kneeling former King. He flinched away from her, but she snatched the crown off Pyotr Lantsov's head all the same. It was not as satisfying as it should have been. Aleksander might live for the sweet taste of victory, but for Alina, the joy was always in getting there, before she had to think about the consequences. And this was most definitely a consequence.

It felt like a long walk up to the throne, that heavy crown in her hands. Her footsteps were the only sound, until she stopped behind him. This was no official coronation - there was plenty of time for that later - but held a certain symbolism all the same. It was smart of him, to have her do this. Who could object to his reign, when Sankta Alina of the Scar had crowned him herself?

Her hands hovered for a moment, hesitating. But there was no way out, not now. Best get on with it.

For better or worse, Alina placed the crown on the Darkling's head. His shadows rose as though in triumph - over the Lantsovs, over Ravka, over her - and she obliged by making a show of golden light entwined with darkness. She did everything she was supposed to, for once in her life, but vanished as soon as possible. There were almost too many chains to bear.

*

Again, I hope Alina's conflicted feelings come across in this chapter. I reread some of my earlier chapters when writing this, to try and keep the essence of her interactions with the Darkling; despite the fact she has grown older and changed, she is still herself if that makes sense, for better or worse still defiant to a fault. It will not necessarily be smooth sailing from this point onwards. Also, with regard to currency, I had no clue they were actually named until I went on the official Grishaverse website; I got Vlachka, Krydda and Kruge from there.