One thing is clear, however. As all saints, the Sun Saint will give their followers wondrous miracles, paid for with pain and selfless suffering - giving themselves entirely, blood, bone and soul. They will bear this burden nobly, and without resentment, and will, ultimately, die so their sacrifice may bless those who are faithful. All hail the Sun Saint, patron of hope and purity. May their birth herald the dawn of a new age of peace and prosperity.

~ Extract from the last chapter of The Istorii Sankt'ya, translated from Old Ravkan

*

Alina woke up one morning to find the whole palace buzzing with gossip. Someone had leaked the news about her presence there. Everyone at court and in Os Alta itself now knew that the Darkling had found a Sun Summoner at last, and soon the whole of Ravka would know too.

Rather disturbed by this for reasons she wasn't quite sure of yet, Alina had not wanted to attend lessons that afternoon. She wanted to forget that everyone in the country would soon know her name, including the church, and not be reminded of it with every stare of her classmates (who had just been getting used to her, for saints sake!). Yuri Vasiliev was unbearable; he did not stare, simply made irritating comments, and if Alina heard another word from his mouth she would've scorched him. To avoid the trouble that would cause, she snuck out of the Little Palace with Nina and Viktor; Alina went through a bathroom window, to evade her guards. Zoya, teacher's pet that she was, had refused to join them but wouldn't snitch, whilst Katya actually enjoyed her lessons and stayed too. They spent a pleasant afternoon in the woods, messing around, but Alina's presence had of course been missed.

After only a couple of hours Natalia Carova, her stern teacher for literacy and languages, had found them. "At last. Vasiliev said you'd be here," Oh, she hated that boy. "Zenika and Belsky have always been trouble but Miss Starkova, I expected better of you," The woman glared down at her.

"Why?" Alina asked. "I'm not some kind of saint,"

The teacher's lips pressed into a thin line. "Many - myself not included - would disagree," She said. What do you mean by that? "And don't you dare talk back to me. The Darkling has given you a privileged position. That comes with more responsibility than the other children. I expect higher standards of behaviour from you,"

Viktor snorted as Alina scowled.

"Just get it over with and punish me, then. I want to go to dinner,"

Her friends were clearly trying not to laugh, lips pressed firmly together. Nina wasn't entirely successful, having to clap a hand to her mouth. Ordinarily, Alina would have been doing the same, but was in a bad mood. It wasn't bravado that had her talking to her teacher like that, but weariness.

Natalia Carova looked like she'd swallowed a lemon. "Fortunately for you," She said through gritted teeth. "The Darkling told me to send you to him straight away. He wishes to speak to you, before dinner,"

That wasn't much better, really. Alina said nothing.

"Now," Natalia Carova warned, and Alina went. But not fast enough to miss what was said to her friends. "Ah, ah. He said nothing about you two. Both of you will be scrubbing bedpans in the Healers wing this evening,"

"That's not fair," Alina stopped, turning around. "It was my idea to not go to lessons, I should be in trouble too,"

"Are you stupid?" Viktor said incredulously. "Don't volunteer!"

"Do not keep the Darkling waiting, Miss Starkova," The woman said. "Think about the consequences, next time you decide to lead your friends astray,"

Hateful old cow. Alina scowled, storming off towards the palace without another word. Obviously she didn't want to scrub bedpans. But this was just like when she and Zoya had that fight. Just how every clash she and Yuri had would be, if she didn't take the blame herself. She didn't want her friends to resent her for being set apart, given special treatment. Though it didn't look like they resented her this time, what if it happened again?

This was the Darkling's fault. He was trying to separate her from her friends; she had heard the words from his own lips that he needed her to like him. Just like when he dressed her in a black kefta and sat her next to him at dinner. Alina would not let that happen.

"Come in," His voice sounded from inside his private study as she knocked on the door. "Ah, Alina. Sit down," He was sat behind the large desk, and gestured to the chair in front of it.

"You're angry," She said, obeying.

The Darkling looked up at her with those sharp grey eyes. "You are quite talented in cutting through pleasantries," She wasn't sure if that was a compliment or insult. "You're angry too,"

"Because my friends are being punished for something that was my idea," She scowled.

"What did you do?"

Alina realised her mistake then, and could've kicked herself. "Nothing. Natalia Carova is just being a cow,"

The Darkling narrowed his eyes, yet to her surprise did not push the matter. "I am sure you are aware that someone revealed your presence here to the world," He moved on, and she nodded. "The King," His expression was one of open distaste. "Has heard the news, and commanded that you be presented to the court,"

Her mouth went dry. "When?"

"Tomorrow morning," He was clearly not happy about this at all. "I had hoped to allow you to remain here unnoticed by anyone who isn't Grisha for at least a few years before putting you through the miseries of court, however it appears that someone has a loose tongue,"

That was said in a way that if he found out who it was with such a loose tongue, they were likely to lose it.

Alina worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been plaguing her. "Natalia Carova said that some people are starting to say I'm a saint,"

The Darkling eyed her, assessing. "Some religious fanatics, perhaps," He was lying. He was lying, and she could tell.

"I don't like it," She blurted out, forgetting for a moment that she wasn't meant to trust him; wasn't meant to need his reassurance. The idea of people thinking of her in such a way was disturbing, the weight of impossible, restricting expectations already pressing down on her. "I'm not a saint. I'm barely even Grisha,"

"You are more Grisha than anyone in the Second Army," He said with a stern look. "But no, it is not miracles or magic that you perform. It is the Small Science. People will think what they like, and these fanatics will be in the minority. Do not let it bother you," He paused. "The King will want a demonstration. I could amplify you, but I think for now it is better that you appear untrained and relatively weak. Don't show off everything you have learned with Baghra. Just make a simple ball of light - enough to prove you are the Sun Summoner, but far from enough for them to whisk you away at once to destroy the Fold,"

"Maybe I'll show them what I did to the Druskelle," She muttered.

The Darkling looked amused. "As enjoyable as that would be to watch, best avoid treason and regicide. For now," He moved on so quickly that she wasn't sure if he was joking. "I'm afraid you won't be able to wear a kefta. And needless to say, you will have to be polite. The King expects to see a humble peasant girl from the borders, grateful for the opportunity to even be in his presence, and that is exactly what he is going to get,"

That was a warning if ever she heard one.

"I'm not stupid enough to be rude to the King," Alina protested, though she had certainly been rude to the Darkling before, and he was not that much further down in rank. "I've been here nearly a year, too. Why can't I dress as a Grisha, if I'm more of one than anyone in the Second Army?"

"Because it looks like a threat," He said, staring down at her, unimpressed with her repeating his own words back to him. "If I present you to him at my side, wearing a black kefta, the King would take that as me saying that you are mine. A problem, considering how powerful you will become. He will want to at least be able to pretend that you're his,"

"I'm not anyone's," She grumbled. "Least of all some fat king I've never met,"

"The King is not fat," The Darkling said, lips twitching. "And it does not matter what the truth is. It is all about appearances. Let me not mince my words - I know you well enough to know that you will despise the King, the Queen, and the entire court too. But you will stand there and cast your eyes down respectfully, answer their questions politely and curtsey when I tell you," He held up a hand to stop her from speaking. "I will be doing the same myself,"

"Curtseying?" She dared to ask.

"Not quite," Luckily he smirked. Alina liked prising those small smiles and huffs of amusement out of his stern demeanour.

"Why do you have to bow to them? You're the most powerful Grisha alive,"

He seemed pleased by her question. "Because with royals, you have to bide your time,"

Whatever that meant. There was a pause.

"I don't know how to curtsey," Alina admitted.

"Genya will be able to teach you,"

"A simple peasant girl wouldn't know how to curtsey,"

"The King knows very little about simple peasant girls. He will expect you to curtsey," He smirked at the look on her face. "It is all a farce, I know. But we all have to play our part. And as I said - bide our time,"

*

"This is awful," Alina scowled at her reflection.

"For once, I agree," Genya looked rather horrified at her work.

When Alina had lived in Temgora, most of the children had worn whatever hand-me-down clothes were a close enough fit, sharing between families and neighbours. If they were lucky, their mother would scrape together some cheap cloth for new clothes, which would be made far too big so they lasted longer. Alina's mother had been a weaver, so her clothes had been new at least.

Nothing she had seen commoners actually wear was anything like what had been sent for her to wear now. They had put her in a well-made but plain dress in white cotton, with an ugly blue pinafore over the top. Her hair had been plaited into two braids either side of her head, tied with blue ribbons, and Genya's tailoring had made her rosy-cheeked and freckled.

"You look... sweet," Her friend tried to find a compliment, however at the look on her face, Genya started to laugh. "Sorry," She said at Alina's dark glare, but wasn't sorry enough to stop giggling. "It's just - you're dressed as the cutest little country girl, but look fit to murder someone. You've still got to put the bonnet on, too,"

Alina let out a stream of curses she had learned from the older boys in the village at the sight of her friend picking up a frilly white bonnet. She summoned her powers and Genya let out a startled shriek, dropping the bonnet as the stupid thing started to heat up and blacken around the edges, a focused beam of light burning it beyond repair.

It was at that moment that the doors opened and the Darkling stepped inside, raising an eyebrow at the smoking mess of cloth on the floor.

"If you make me wear that stupid bonnet, I'll burn you as well," Alina turned to him, too annoyed to mind her words. She was still angry at him for what she had overheard him say to Baghra, after all; he'd spoken about her like she was an idiot, to be charmed into doing everything he asked her to. All it achieved was ensuring she would do the exact opposite.

"Alina!" Genya gasped.

But the Darkling didn't tell her off for threatening him. No, what he did do was worse; after looking her up and down, he had the nerve to bite back a smirk.

"You are not very convincing as a fresh-faced little peasant with that scowl on your face, Alina," He said, amused. "A shame Genya cannot tailor you a sweet smile,"

"Not you as well," She groaned, as Genya hid her giggles behind her hand.

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm. Though Alina pulled a face, she accepted it, trying to ignore the slight thrill at being treated like a proper grown-up lady. "I will not tell you to smile," The Darkling said as they walked through the halls. "But do at least attempt to look pleasant,"

Alina looked up at him, smiling so sweetly that he raised an eyebrow. "Better?"

"That's unnerving," His lips twitched. "Convincing too. But I know you will drop it the moment someone says something you do not like. It will be less noticeable if you simply refrain from looking like you want to commit a murder,"

That was going to be hard, seeing as she had just seen Yuri Vasiliev and his friends laughing at the sight of her. She used her free hand to make a vulgar gesture their way, only for the Darkling's shadows to grab her hand and force it down, leading her down the stairs.

*

The throne room was grand, impressive, and filled with all kinds of fancy folk living in the lap of luxury whilst the rest of Ravka starved.

Alina had not had the worst childhood. Her family had been poor, but at least there was a (relatively) stable roof over her head, a bed to sleep in (well, a straw mattress at least) and (for the most part) food in her stomach. They had gone hungry on occasion, and the food was not exactly good, but they had never starved. Her father had been harsh, but not brutal or deliberately cruel. She had been taught manners, how to sew, how to read and write, how to hunt. Better than many other children, who starved, or froze, or were stolen by bad men. Their schoolteacher and the travelling priest had often told them how lucky they were. She had always scoffed at that, but did not appreciate quite how ridiculous that statement was until coming here.

Living on the border, they had seen the damage of the Tsar's endless wars first hand. Raiders often came looting from over the border, and anyone who stood in their way was killed. Skirmishes were frequent nearby, and they saw the bloody corpses and horrific injuries on survivors. Alina's crippling fear of small spaces - which her father had used as a punishment - had stemmed from being forced to hide under the floorboards when raids occurred. Their village often went hungry. Many orphans were made. People lived hard lives that were frequently cut short.

She thought of that, as she took in all the lords and ladies in their finery, and the King and Queen sat on their golden thrones. The Queen had clearly undergone far too much tailoring, likely by request, as Genya could do a far better job than that (or perhaps did it badly out of spite). The Tsar was draped in unearned medals, and wore an unsoiled military uniform. He had blonde hair, round shoulders, a weak chin and was rather weedy. Needless to say, Alina was thoroughly unimpressed.

The Darkling escorted her into the throne room on his arm like a proper lady. She glanced up at him. In his black kefta, standing tall and straight-backed at her side, he looked more of a King than the man before her would ever be. Alina longed for her own kefta, hating the stupid pinafore and blue ribbons more than ever. Hated looking like the silly, spoiled little daughter of some wealthy farmer. Her father was a hunter.

"Moi Tsar," The Darkling addressed the King. "Alina Starkova, the Sun Summoner," It was strange to see him address someone as a superior, especially this feeble-looking man.

The King's eyes narrowed slightly, and it was clear that he was not best pleased that the Darkling had kept her hidden at the Little Palace for a year without him knowing she existed. Equally, Alina knew that the Darkling did not like the fact the man had found out at all, nor that he had insisted on her being dragged before the court like a performing monkey.

"Come, come! Bring her to me,"

Alina and the Darkling moved closer, and the King scrutinised her. Eyes darting away awkwardly, she noticed then that there was a man in dark priest's robes standing behind the King. He was scrutinising Alina too, in a way that made her skin crawl. The Apparat, it must be.

"She's quite young. And very plain," The King concluded, frowning. Alina immediately scowled - she had hardly been smiling to begin with - but before she could say a word about the King looking like a weasel dressed up as a tin soldier, the Darkling's hand on her arm tightened in warning. "Show me, then,"

She turned to look at the man beside her, who stepped back a few feet and spread his arms wide. The throne room fell into an uneasy silence as shadows filled from his hands in swirling ribbons, and there was an outbreak of nervous cries and titters as he brought his hands together and darkness fell completely.

If only she had been able to put on a real show. After nearly a year learning from Baghra, Alina could do far more with her light than summon a simple ball, but she obeyed the Darkling's instructions (only because they made sense) and brought into being a globe of shining light, about a metre across. Though it was tempting to summon enough light to blind every stupid person in this room.

A simple ball was enough, however. The darkness shattered like glass (more the Darkling's work than her own), and the crowd applauded madly. People wept, hugged each other, and one woman even fainted. The King looked delighted, applauding louder than anyone. Alina stood in the middle of it all, blinking in surprise, not really enjoying all the attention.

"Brilliant! A miracle!" The King was shouting, coming down the steps of the dais, the bearded priest following behind him, bending his knees slightly to take Alina's hand and raising it to his wet lips. She knew the Darkling wouldn't like it if she screwed her face up in disgust or flinched away, though it was a struggle not to. "My dear, dear girl. Miraculous, simply miraculous,"

He straightened and looked accusingly at the Darkling. Alina took the opportunity to wipe her hand on her dress as the King lowered his voice slightly, so that the rest of the court, still eagerly conversing around them, could not hear.

"I would have liked to have made plans immediately, though the General seems to think that we must wait years,"

"Alina has barely started training, moi Tsar," The Darkling barely blinked at the King's hostility. "Her display just now was impressive, true, but not near enough to put even a dent in the Fold,"

"Impressive?" The priest who had slithered down behind the King was staring at Alina with an intensity that made her very uncomfortable. He smelled of mildew and incense, like a tomb. "Why Darkling, I'd call it a miracle,"

No one had mentioned any rules about being rude to him. "It's not a miracle," Alina scowled. "It's the Small Science. I can explain how it works if you like,"

The King guffawed at that, to her annoyance, though the priest continued to hold her stare with that disturbing look. "The little Sun Summoner has a bite to her after all. I wasn't sure you'd speak Ravkan, girl,"

It took her a moment to realise that he was referring to her Shu heritage. Alina had been in the Little Palace so long she had forgotten quite how much comments like that stung.

"Alina's mother is Shu," The Darkling smoothly stepped in before she could reply, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Her father is Ravkan and fought as a corporal in the First Army, before being honourably discharged after a crippling injury. She grew up in the Sikurzoi, near the border,"

"Dalliances with the enemy are common after a battle, whilst our soldiers' blood is up," The King chuckled.

Alina's blood boiled at the implication. "My parents are married," She could not help but say. And they loved each other, once. The hand on her shoulder tightened, warning her not to continue.

"Such a charmingly common accent, too," The King barely seemed to have heard her. "I suppose being from somewhere so quaint, you are in awe of all our finery here. Though the least the General could have done was get you a pretty dress," He chortled as if he had made a particularly funny joke. "I do believe my dear Tsaritsa wishes to speak with her," The King continued, speaking about Alina as though she were not there. "She does enjoy such curiosities,"

The Darkling's hand tightened almost painfully at that last word. "Alas, that will have to wait for another day, moi Tsar. I fear Alina will become rather overwhelmed,"

His tone was not to be argued with, and though the King blustered for a few moments, it was agreed that Alina would meet the Queen on a different occasion. The King's attention returned to his court, and he moved away to crow about his supposed victory in discovering a Sun Summoner. The priest lingered a while longer, however.

"Your claws are deep in her already, Darkling," He said, eyeing his hand on her shoulder.

"Who are you?" Alina asked rudely, despite suspecting already. The Darkling did not seem to mind.

"I am the Apparat, child. The King's spiritual advisor," His voice was soft, though there was something in his eyes that she did not like as he bent down to her level. "You know, I would like it very much if you attended my services in church. Your presence would be an honour, and it is important that you in particular are well aware of spiritual matters,"

"Why?"

The Apparat smiled indulgently. "Surely you were taught in church about the coming of the Sun Saint? The one to save us all from darkness and bring us into the light. You must learn about your coming role, and how to conduct yourself. Ever since the good people of Os Alta heard that living saint walks among us, your name has been in their prayers, Sankta Alina - "

"Enough," The Darkling said coldly, far less guarded than he had been with the King. "You presume too much, priest,"

The Apparat just smiled a slimy smile and glided away. It was too late, however. Alina's stomach had already clenched and it felt like there was ice running through her veins.

"Can we go now?" She looked up at the Darkling, his hand still on her shoulder, hating how small her voice sounded.

He nodded wordlessly, eyes narrowed as he stared at the Apparat's retreating back.

As they moved through the halls of the Grand Palace, out into the sunlit gardens, Alina still felt rather chilled by the man's words. A living saint. But saints were good and holy and pure, whilst she was just a sullen, rude girl from a no-name village near the border. Her hands were rather shaky as they tore out those stupid blue ribbons and shook her hair out of the braids into a wild mess.

"Breathe, Alina," The Darkling reminded her, as they crossed into the grounds of the Little Palace, surety rushing through her as his hand moved to the bare skin of her neck. She had never fully appreciated how homely and warm this place felt until she compared it to the austere luxury of the Grand Palace.

"I don't like the King," She said, hands clenched into fists at her side. "And I don't like the Apparat," And sometimes I don't like you either, because you get in my head too much, but you're ten times better than either of those men.

"Neither do I," She was surprised by his honest admission. "The King is a spoilt child who feasts while Ravka starves, and the Apparat is a sly fraud who cares more for his own power than any saint's,"

"Won't you get in trouble for saying that?" Alina asked dubiously, glancing around.

"Most Grisha feel the same way I do," He said, unbothered. "It's true, besides,"

There was a pause.

"I don't want to be a living saint," She blurted out, once again disliking how young she sounded. "I don't want everyone to know who I am. All the saints get martyred - I don't want to die,"

"You won't," He stopped then, placing his hand on her shoulder and facing her with such conviction that in that moment she forgot how he really thought about her; a silly little girl to be easily manipulated. "Know that I will never let that happen, Alina,"

She swallowed, still unsure, looking away from his stare. "You make it sound so true,"

"Because it is true. I have spent most of my life waiting for you, Alina. I am not going to let some fanatic fool tear that away,"

Against her better judgement, she believed him. And then immediately felt stupid for showing her panic, so changed the subject. "I'm going to have bruises on my shoulder from you squeezing it so tightly in there,"

"Can you tell me you would not have said something foolish in front of the King if I had not reminded you to hold your tongue?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No,"

"There you are, then,"

"You'd have found what I wanted to say funny,"

"I am sure I would have done," He smiled faintly. "You are uncannily good at putting people in their place. Though I'd have found the King's reaction less amusing,"

"You're probably right," She admitted. "I want to go back to my room and change out of this hateful dress,"

The Darkling chuckled at that, following. "The dress is awful," He agreed. "But it worked. The King liked you, and doesn't believe that you're a threat,"

"That's because he thinks I can only summon a pathetic little ball of light," She allowed herself a grudging smile, and with a twitch of her fingers sent a beautiful, coin-sized golden horse galloping across her hand, up her arm, leaping across to land on the Darkling's shoulder.

"Very threatening," He said dryly.

Alina laughed despite herself, twitching her fingers again. The horse became an unmistakable caricature of the King in the palm of her hand. Another twitch, and his head rolled off his body, bouncing comically. It was lucky there was no one near enough to see the tiny display.

"Careful, Alina," He warned, though she could see that look he got sometimes; secretly delighted, almost... hungry. She got a small thrill out of that.

"Always," She grinned at his disbelieving scoff.

*

In canon, I enjoyed Alina's reticence about being saint, and wanted to highlight it here as it will play a prominent role in the story. My version of her hates to feel trapped by anything, which ties into why the idea scares her so much. I also wanted to make it clear that Alina has friends and a support system she actually likes; it always irked me that she only seemed to befriend Nadia and Marie when she didn't even like them that much, just because they forced their friendship on her. Same with her other friends, like Genya, Tolya, Tamar etc; they are only friends because they are in close proximity to her, and she doesn't seek anyone out.

Thanks for all your comments, please let me know what you think of this chapter!