It was an exercise in self-control the next day to not march straight into the Darkling's study and demand that Genya be removed from the Queen's service. It was an exercise in self-control to not fight her way through all of the Grand Palace guards and kill the King herself. She might even be strong enough now to do just that, which made it even worse that she could not.

Alina did not understand why her friend refused to let her do anything about the King's assault. It was not in Alina's nature to sit back and let someone she loved get hurt. But the girl was adamant that she did not want anyone to interfere; Alina had a furious retort ready, but then really saw Genya's tearstained face and could not bear to make her cry any more.

"It's not your secret to tell," Her friend said sternly, putting her foot down. So, for once, Alina kept quiet.

*

Once she turned twelve, the Darkling started to teach her the ways of government. As well as individual sessions where they ran through various situations and how to handle them, he also insisted that she sit in on some of his meetings at the Little Palace. These included various highly-ranked soldiers of the Second Army, some from the First Army and other government officials. She wasn't supposed to contribute anything, merely watch from her seat in the corner and observe how government and leadership worked.

It had sounded very dull at first, though it turned out to be quite interesting hearing about the various military strategies and logistics of running an army. Even the more political side was not entirely dull either; the officials from the Grand Palace were full of bluster, and it was rather amusing watching the Darkling walk all over them. As well as the other Grisha on the council, for that matter.

Ivan was the Darkling's dutiful second-in-command and sat at his right hand. Since she had arrived at the Little Palace, Alina had made it her mission to wrangle a smile out of the stoic, cold man. As yet, she had not succeeded. In fact, Ivan almost certainly found her a nuisance, but there were times she thought he might admire her nerve. He had given her an approving nod a few times, at least.

The heads of the various orders were no less formidable. The Corporalki were represented by Sofia Novikova, a stern, no-nonsense old Healer who had not been afraid to give Alina a sharp telling-off several times before.

After her first meeting, she approached Sofia before the woman left. "You're the one who fixed my nose when Zoya broke it!"

"Alina," The Darkling stepped in sternly. "Address Lady Novikova with respect - she is your superior, not your friend,"

Alina pulled a face, speaking without thinking. "This is why you don't have any friends and no one likes you at court,"

That earned a laugh from Inessa Zakharova, head of the Materialki, who had yet to leave. Alina secretly idolised the woman already; she was wicked, funny and witty, always with a grin on her beautiful face, but was also frightfully clever and could talk circles around anyone.

She was expecting disapproval from Sofia, and got it. But to her surprise, underneath her stern visage she seemed to be biting back the faintest smile. "I have not heard anyone speak to you like that in years, moi soverenyi," Her tone was unreadable. "Yes, Miss Starkova, I did heal your nose after your unfortunate fight with Miss Nazyalenskaya. You were far from a model patient. I was tempted not to bother, as you seemed fit to provoke her into breaking it again,"

Against all odds, Alina liked her. She grinned. "Zoya breaking my nose and me breaking her teeth made us friends, my lady,"

"Quite an achievement after such a fight. Why, with such a talent for making friends we should be glad to have you on the council some day, Solnishka," Leonid Zaitsev, the head of the Etherialki, chimed in. The man was charismatic and good-natured, but too much so. Alina did not quite trust him. But he was an excellent diplomat, and came in handy when smoothing out the harsh edges of the other heads, Ivan and the Darkling to delegates from the Grand Palace who might take offence. Leonid was nothing but charming to Alina, but she was still wary of him, with her knack for seeing through bullshit.

She fixed him with a suspicious look. "I'm twelve, not six. You don't need to pander to me," The Darkling glared at her, so she hastily added. "But thank you, I suppose,"

"A talent for making friends, hm?" Inessa Zakharova raised an amused eyebrow. "Perhaps only with a punch to the nose, or the equivalent,"

Alina snickered. "Exactly,"

The Darkling ushered her out of the room, then. Perhaps for the best. But despite the telling-off he gave her in his study for her rudeness, she can't have given too much of a bad impression, as she was invited back next time. Inessa gave her a cheery wave, whilst Sofia nodded in greeting. Leonid gave a too-warm smile and friendly greeting; she still didn't like him much, but played along.

Aside from the heads, other Grisha sat on the council. Mila Tarasova, the dark-haired Heartrender in charge of intelligence; reserved, effective and equally as intriguing as she was terrifying. Anastasia Yegorova, master of finances and accounts, a genius with numbers who was quiet but quick and cheerful. Ilya Orlov, a practical and straightforward man who ran logistics for the Second Army. Radomir Belyaev, the mild-mannered, genial head of the oprichniki. And then there were the various colonels and majors, who had a place on the council but were always coming and going to and from the front. Fedyor was there occasionally too, to Alina's delight; he had no official position, but was one of the Darkling's most trusted Grisha.

As a result of her hours learning government, Alina had less time in her other lessons, and was falling behind in languages and history again, but did not mind too much. Her Grisha theory classes were still as often as before, she was excelling in Botkin's training sessions, and Baghra was also pushing her harder than ever with her summoning.

"Is it even possible?" Alina groaned, after almost two hours of being hit with the woman's cane for not being able to make a teacup invisible. "There's never been a Sun Summoner before to try it,"

"You've studied enough Small Science to know it is," Baghra snapped. "Stop whining and put some effort in, girl,"

That was true. Alina had joined the Fabrikator class for a series of lessons on how beams of light worked, which had admittedly been very helpful for her summoning. It was far easier to work with the light when she could visualise the exact mechanism behind it. However, now she was expected to raise the standard of her practical work even further. She could create a mirror by reflecting light off of an object, so in theory could turn something invisible by bending light around it. That was easier said than done, though, and she still struggled.

As far as the King was concerned, Alina had just got onto making pretty scenes and animals with her light, which she had been able to do for two years already. He demanded a performance at every winter fete, and this year the nobles had been awed by her creations - especially the impressive Lantsov double eagle scattering glittering sparks that had soared over their heads - despite the fact that such things were child's play to her now. If she looked too accomplished then they would try and pack her off to the Fold before she was ready to destroy it, which would only be embarrassing for everyone.

This year, the Darkling had seemed confident that she could handle the demonstration without him, seeing as he was away at the front on important business and was loath to be called back yet again to perform for the King. She had attended meetings with Ivan instead, who was in charge when the General was absent. It was strange, being at court without him. People minded their tongues a lot more with him looming over her shoulder, which was irritating. But Alina was also more free to slip away with Nikolai, to quieter areas of the palace to escape the crowds. Which was exactly what she had done now.

"I know he's your father," She was saying as they stepped outside into the cold night air, snow crunching underfoot. "But I can't look at his stupid face any longer without doing something... reckless," Such as making her golden Lantsov eagle bite off his head.

Nikolai's ordinarily laughing face was solemn. "I do try and prevent him being alone with her, but I can't be there all the time," Alina knew it was not her secret to tell, but had told the Prince of what his father did to Genya, unable to console herself with doing nothing at all. "But he's catching on now and just sends me away. She knows something too, I think. She came up to me the other day and, very politely, told me that she knows I mean well but to mind my own business. Saints, Alina, I can't stand knowing what he does to that poor girl. He's my father, how can he be such a monster?"

She had no reply to that. Well, none that she could say to Nikolai. He may be dismayed that his father wasn't the man he thought he was, but still would likely not appreciate the violent thoughts running through her head.

Their gloomy conversation was interrupted by a figure stepping outside to join them.

"Prince Nikolai. Lady - ah, Miss Starkova?"

Alina turned at the nervous voice, and narrowed her eyes slightly at the woman who had turned her back on her own son. "Duchess Belskaya,"

Viktor's estranged mother had always seemed meek and very subservient towards her husband, flinching at her own shadow and terrified of all Grisha. Alina was surprised the woman had approached her alone. She doubted the Duchess would have dared if the Darkling had been there.

"Could you... could you spare a moment," The tiny woman spoke in a rush, eyes darting around nervously. "In private. It's about... my son. Viktor. You are friends with him, you said?"

"I am," Curiosity roused, Alina glanced at Nikolai. "Though you can say whatever you want to say in front of the Prince too,"

"No!" The woman's vehement reply made both of them share a confused look. "My apologies, your highness, I just - I'm scared it will get back to my husband, and he - " She broke off again.

"Not to worry," Nikolai said, tone bright. "You two go for a short walk, and I will wait here,"

Alina frowned. "Fine. I'll walk with you,"

She followed Duchess Belskaya across the veranda, and down the steps into the gardens. What on earth could she be so afraid of other people hearing? There weren't many lights here, and the sounds of the ball were rather distant. Perhaps Alina should have been more cautious, but this woman was hardly a threat, there were guards all over the grounds and Nikolai was still waiting for her. Besides, she was capable of fighting off multiple otkazat'sya herself with her powers.

"What is it?" She asked, as the woman continued to lead her away from the palace. "We can talk here, no one's around,"

"Just a bit further," The woman still sounded very nervous.

"Your husband won't hear you all the way out here," Alina was growing wary now. "You said you wanted to talk about Viktor,"

"I do," The Duchess wrung her hands. "I miss him terribly. My husband never had any patience for him, but he was always such a spirited boy,"

"Then send him a letter," Alina didn't have much sympathy, and was rather concerned that they were moving towards the woods. The only thing stopping her from turning around and going back now was the knowledge that the oprichniki guarded the walls and that she was reasonably confident in her own abilities. And curiosity, of course. "Arrange to meet him. He hates his father, but I think he's more sad that you let him be cast out,"

"I'd hoped you could bring him to me, tonight,"

She supposed that was an explanation as to why they were so far from the Grand Palace, just entering the cover of the trees.

"I could bring you into the Little Palace," Alina shrugged.

"No!" The woman looked terrified at the very idea. Alina's eyes widened, and she seemed to force herself to calm. "I - I didn't just bring you here to talk about Viktor. I have wanted to speak openly to you for a long time, Sankta,"

"Don't call me that," Her blood ran cold as it always did whenever anyone called her that word, a scowl settling over her face. "We're done here. If you want to speak to your own son then bloody write to him yourself,"

"My apologies, Sankta," The Duchess grabbed her arm, and she realised the woman's eyes were alive with religious fervour. "You have to stay here, for your own good,"

Alina recoiled and wrenched her arm away easily, a bad feeling building inside her. She turned, ready to run, but then she heard a rustling in the undergrowth ahead of her and froze. Four men emerged from the trees.

"What have you done?" She whirled around to glare at Viktor's mother.

"We're here to free you from the Darkling's wicked clutches, Sankta Alina," One of the men said with a benevolent smile.

She raised her hands threateningly, summoning a ball of light ready to throw and burn, but the religious fools just stared at it with wonder.

"Take me anywhere and I'll kill you all," She snarled, but before she could act she felt someone else grab her from behind, a potent-smelling cloth forced over her nose and mouth.

Alina fought like a wildcat, and though she was good at combat, she was only twelve and barely five feet tall, no match for what had to be a large man holding her from behind in an iron grip. Her head was going fuzzy, and she heard swearing behind her as she stamped hard on the arch of her captor's foot, aiming to kick up between his legs, but her muscles were going limp too. There was a muffled scream as her ball of light flew wildly and presumably hit one of the others, but before she knew it her vision was fading, and all she saw was black.

*

She awoke to darkness. Alina's head was still groggy and confused, and it took her a few moments to even question where she was. Then she blinked, finding herself in a small space that was far too hot - she was wrapped in some sort of furs - her hands bound and set apart with a bar in between to prevent her from summoning. She remembered what had happened before she had been knocked out with some drug in the cloth.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had she been so cocky to think she could take on any threat thrown at her? Of course they'd send someone behind her. Cursing her own idiocy, she tried to move, immediately discovering that there was solid wood on every side. A box; she was in a box.

Her fear of small spaces - which had not mattered for so long, not since her father had capitalised on it and locked her in a cupboard as a punishment - kicked in in full force. Alina tried to calm herself and not panic, feeling with the limited movement of her hands the confines of the space. She had barely four inches above her face, only two to either side, and the only light came from small cracks in the wood. Despite her efforts, her breathing quickened at the horrible trapped feeling, and this time there was no Darkling to calm her down with a touch of his hand.

They were moving, she forced herself to focus on. The box felt like it was strapped to some kind of carriage or wagon by the way it jostled. They were on a road, judging from the potholes but relative speed. Where, she had no idea. She tried feeling around for a weakness, testing the lid and sides to see if they would give way, but there was no such luck. She tried summoning, but without the use of her hands she could not even come up with the feeblest ball of light. She tried kicking the sides, punching, scratching, screaming at someone to get her out, but there was no response, no give. Alina was well and truly trapped.

After what had to be hours, the wagon came to a halt. She felt the box be lifted off and onto the ground, unlocked with two locks. The winter air was cold on her face as the lid was opened.

"Sankta," Surprisingly gentle hands reached out to her. Alina tried to shove them away, tried to jump up and escape, but her limbs were weak and stiff from lack of movement and she had no choice but to let them lift her out of the box onto the snowy ground.

"Oh, hells," She groaned as she saw the sun emblazoned on the robes of the people surrounding her, the symbol that belonged to her cult, those who considered her a living saint. "I'm not really a saint. Take me back to the Little Palace. I don't want to go with you,"

"Do not fear, Sankta Alina," One said, with that voice of irritating, benevolent calm that many religious folk adopted. "My name is Father Aleksei. I am a priest. You are still under the corrupting influence of the Darkling. But soon you will be free from his evil and you will see your true path ahead of you,"

"I'm not brainwashed," She said. "That's all of you. I want to go back to Os Alta. You drugged and kidnapped me,"

"Apologies for our rough treatment, but saints are born to suffer and sacrifice. And you will soon give the most noble sacrifice of all, as you were destined to do. Sankta Alina - the Sun Saint, who will give her life to bring down the Fold and save us from the darkness,"

Her heart ran cold. "You're going to kill me,"

"You will live forever more in the worship of your loyal worshippers. And we are your most loyal,"

"I don't care," She raised her voice. "I don't care about any of my stupid worshippers. I just want to live. You're all idiots for believing that I'm a saint, let alone that I can bring down the Fold already. Wait a few years and I'll be able to do it without spilling a drop of my own blood! Killing me will do nothing but make sure the Fold stands forever,"

"It is known that Grisha release their strongest power when under duress," Said a gruff man with a thick grey beard. "The true power of the Sun Saint will be released when you become a martyr. You will be free at last, Sankta. And so will we,"

It was no use arguing with them. Alina screamed and swore; she tried cold logic; she tried threats, that she would kill them all, and if she didn't then the Darkling would rain down hell upon them; she even tried appealing to their morality, that surely murdering a child was something the true saints would look down on. None of it worked. That was the definition of faith, after all. Ignoring all logic in favour of belief.

Alina was not going to make this easy for them, though. She refused all food unless they let her feed herself. One overeager young man - with cheeks round enough and ringlets golden enough that she named him Choirboy - had the nerve to try and feed her, and she had spat hot stew in his face. The sick freak likely worshipped the handkerchief he had wiped her spittle off his face with.

When they took her out of the box, to wrap in furs and tie to a tree every night, she fought them. The first time, she had actually broken free but did not get far; her limbs were still weak and stiff from disuse and they had caught her easily. The second time, they had been wary, so she bided her time, played along and then broke free unexpectedly, snatching a knife from the belt of the nearest fanatic and shoving it under his chin. The man had died, and though she had not gotten far - Greybeard had tackled her roughly to the ground and snatched the knife with the skill of an old soldier - it was satisfying to know that she had killed one of them. She hadn't come back quietly either, and many of the group now bore wounds from that knife. Alina hoped they festered.

It would have been impossible to escape during the transfer from box to tree after that - they were too on guard - but the third night she had found a sharpish rock and had used it to rub halfway through the bindings. Then one of the guards standing over her had noticed and she had been tied up with even more rope.

If only she could use her powers, just for one moment; that's all it would take. Alina's rage had been building like a furnace ever since she had awoken. Unleashing it now would likely destroy half the camp. But her hands were never unbound for a single moment, and she was always watched; a man even followed her into the bushes to relieve herself. Every single humiliating moment of captivity was doing nothing but stoking her fury and hate. Alina amused herself during those long hours in the box with fantasies of melting the skin from their bones, blinding them with bright light, turning them into charred corpses like she had done to the Druskelle who attacked them on their way through the Sikurzoi years ago.

Her captors treated her gently, with a few exceptions, even after she had killed one of their own. She supposed that was something. Although the pitying smiles and kind eyes were worse than kicks and punches in a way. Certainly most kidnappers would be less irritatingly sanctimonious about it all. This lot thought they were in the right, that their cause was just and noble, which made it all the more terrifying.

From their pace, it was clear that they feared the Darkling finding them, however. They did not stop for long at night, and kept off the main roads. But the Darkling wasn't the only thing stalking the group. The fanatics seemed to get more and more anxious as the journey went on, as it became increasingly common for any man who strayed too far from the group - to go for a piss, hunt a rabbit or scout ahead - to not come back. Their corpses were often found later.

"A demon stalks us in these woods," Father Aleksei solemnly addressed the others one night, around the campfire. "It attempts to deter us from our holy mission, and would like nothing more than to snatch Sankta Alina back to the darkness. We will not let it! We will not halt in our goal - "

"You should," Alina heckled from where she was tied. "Or else I'll be laughing over your corpses," She would welcome a demon at this point. She wondered who it was, for if the Darkling had found them already then they would all be dead by now. And too many people had died for it to be wild animals picking them off.

"Quiet, girl," Greybeard was the only one to address her harshly, seeming angered. The rest just tutted, pitying the poor, deluded, brainwashed little saint. "Some saint she is. Vicious little chit, more like. She speak likes she was raised in a tavern, not a palace,"

"Peace, brother," Father Aleksei said. Did the man ever raise his voice? She hated him for his calm. "It is not the Sankta's fault she was the victim of the forces of evil. She will understand in time,"

Defiant, Alina spat in their direction. "What time? If you survive the Darkling after murdering me, I'll haunt you for the rest of your miserable lives,"

Bravado was one thing. Inside, she was deathly scared; pretending to not be and fighting back any way she could helped her get through it all. But her captors' fear was dangerous to her, in ways Alina had only dreamt about in her darkest nightmares.

One night, the two guards standing beside her seemed rather off. They waited for everyone to go to sleep - Alina did not sleep much at night, rather during the endless hours shut in a box during the day - before one grabbed her face and shoved a wad of cloth into her mouth to gag her, holding her still as she struggled furiously, trying to rid herself of the gag and scream.

She had no idea what they planned to do. Beat her, rape her, kill her? All three? For all she knew, it could be.

"Forgive me, Sankta," The other - Choirboy - said fervently, kneeling down beside her. Alina's eyes bulged in fear as she saw him unsheath a rusty-looking hunting knife. "But there is an evil in these woods, following us, hunting us. Your sacred flesh can offer us holy protection,"

She tried to struggle, tried to scream, but the first guard's grip was steady. Choirboy grabbed her left hand, and she realised what he was going to do a few seconds before he began to saw at her fourth finger. Pain like nothing Alina had ever felt before burned through her, as she tried to thrash away, tears streaming down her face. He was cutting it off, her horrified mind caught up with her. Her wedding ring finger. The sounds were the worst of it, and she felt like she was going to be sick, or pass out.

It was not quick, either. For the first time in years, she cried out to her father to save her. Never mind that her cries were muffled by the gag, never mind the fact that he was on the other side of the country, never mind that all he'd hear of her death at the hands of these people was a cold letter from the Darkling, if he was lucky.

For an awful moment she was worried they were not going to stop at one, but then they bandaged the bleeding gap where her finger had been. Alina almost did pass out, her vision blurring in revulsion when she saw them place the severed finger into a jar of liquid to preserve it. A part of her body, turned into a relic. They hacked off a chunk of her hair as well after that, though she barely noticed through the tears in her eyes and the burning pain in her hand. The snow around her was spattered with her own blood.

She cried long after that, any sense of pride broken by the pain. Blood, bone and soul. Alina had avoided thinking of home until now, in an attempt to keep herself from weeping, but it was too late now and all the thoughts were flooding in. She wanted to be back at the Little Palace, in her too-big, impossibly-comfy bed. She wanted Genya to be there when she woke, exchanging petty gossip and giggling. She wanted to be laughing in lessons with Viktor and Nina. She wanted to bicker with Zoya, study with Katya, read in the library with Konstantin (tucked into her favourite alcove), talk for hours with Nikolai. She missed her guards, missed Fedyor, hells, she even missed Baghra and her cane.

More than anything, she wanted the Darkling to be at her side, wanted to shrink back into his black-cloaked embrace, watching from safety as he raised his hands and Cut through these people like they were nothing. Interspersed with this longing was self-hate. Pathetic, weak, feeble, defenceless, crybaby, stupid, stupid, stupid.

But at the heart of things, all Alina really wanted was for the bar to be taken off her hands; then, every single man here would die.

*

This was another quite dark chapter, I promise it picks up soon! What do you think of Alina's kidnapping? I hope the fact she really is terrified despite acting otherwise came across; she really is just a kid despite acting like a feral beast half the time. I also wanted to show that she can be overconfident and make mistakes that have real consequences; it makes for more interesting reading, and a more nuanced character in general. I hope the finger wasn't too much; my scale is skewed by a medical sciences degree involving various dissections.

Thanks so much for all the kind comments, I really appreciate them! Hope you enjoyed the chapter despite its contents.