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“I told you we should have kept left.”
“Yes, thank you Alina, that helps.”
Alina lifted her hand, expanding her light a bit to illuminate their surroundings through the light snowflakes falling from the sky. There wasn’t much to see. Only blindingly white snow as far as her light would go.
And trees.
A whole lot of them.
And all of them looking alike and casting shadows that danced in her light and made her tense as a bowstring, always expecting the next flicker to be an enemy moving in to strike the Sun and the Shadow Summoner down in one fell swoop while they were lost in an unfamiliar forest and by the looks of it far away from their camp and any help.
They weren’t likely to succeed, especially not now with the Stag amplifier in her hands, but an arrow in the back could still kill her or Aleksander without a Healer nearby. She didn’t particularly like that thought.
“Next time, maybe we should bring a tracker along when we venture off into an unfamiliar forest in the dead of night.”
Aleksander exhaled an aggravated sigh and walked away. Where exactly he intended to go, Alina did not know. There was not a path in sight, not even a game trail (that she could see), their footprints were gone either through falling snow or gusts of wind, and every single tree looked the same, eerily stretching its branches her way. Shuddering, she hurried to catch up to Aleksander. “I’m just saying. Mal would know the way back to camp.”
“Would you rather have stayed with Mal while I took the amplifier?” he snapped, clearly not in the mood to talk, especially not about this touchy topic.
Alina rolled her eyes. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? I’m just saying it would be nice if we don’t freeze to death just because you have a surprisingly abysmal sense of direction but were too proud to accept help. And your argument that the others would scare the Stag away doesn’t work because Mal’s good at what he does. Including finding his way home.”
“You’re a map maker! I figured you’d be skilled enough to find our way back,” he grumbled morosely and then cursed when his cloak caught in a bush and he had to yank it free.
Alina shrugged, taking care not to make the same mistake or to slip on the treacherous, snowy ground. “I had some basic training, and I’m a decent sketcher, but directions were never my forte. I always followed where Mal led ever since we were kids. He never gets lost.”
“Good for him.”
Alina suppressed a growl. “Can we maybe not fight? We have enough on our plate as it is, and I’m still mad at you. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”
Aleksander stopped and turned to her, suddenly much closer than he was before. Her light was trapped between them, pulsing softly like a second heart and casting them in a soft glow. He lifted his gloved fingers and ran them down her cheek; not quite gently, but not callously either. “You chose me, Alina. Let him go.”
Alina stared back, the anger she’d tried to shove aside to work with him bubbling up and cracking through. “I chose to stay because I think this thing between us is worth fighting for, and because the Grisha and Ravka need me. But I have not forgiven you yet for lying to me about your plans for the Fold, and I will not give up Mal for you. He’s my best friend. I need him.”
Aleksander leaned forward, his warm breath ghosting over her cold face in a tantalising contrast. “You need no one but me, as I need no one but you. It’s you and me, Alina.”
“Maybe someday,” she whispered, “but not yet.”
He was so close. She wanted to punch him for the emotional turmoil he’d put her through, for making her doubt him and herself, for making her doubt them. For making her believe in him and then yanking away everything she’d thought to be true. For making her want him like she’d never wanted someone before. And Saints, she still wanted him, desire and something else, something more than affection or a crush but not quite yet love, yearning to step even closer and feel him against her again. Maybe, a small part of her whispered, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to give in to him. To show the world what we are capable of together.
She breathed in, for a moment remembering how good it had felt to be held by him, kissed by him, how safe she had felt in his arms, how completely at ease. How for once in her life, she had felt like she belonged. Then she pushed that small voice in her mind aside because she could not allow herself to give in like that.
He would consume her in his need to own her, and by extension consume all of Ravka in his need for power. His love for her wouldn’t matter then. He wanted Grisha safe, no matter the cost, but he could not see that some prices were too high to pay. He’d sacrifice her and realise too late the devastation he would bring upon both of them.
She refused to let that happen.
She knew the truth of him now, and she refused to look away. He would not own her, but neither would she run away. Whatever lies he’d told her in the past, their feelings were real, however complex they were. She could only hope that would be enough.
He hadn’t yet crossed a line she couldn’t forgive. They could still fix this.
But it would be a slow process, not one done in a moment, and so she steeled herself and stepped back, out of his personal space. He let her, face and eyes unreadable, but that in itself was telling enough. He was hurting, but so was she. They would just have to endure for now.
Turning away, she cast her light into the woods in the desperate hope that she would recognise a landmark they had passed on their way to the Stag, but there was nothing, not even a single footprint in the snow.
“Alina,” Aleksander warned and she dimmed her light again until it was barely more than a bright candle.
“I know,” she said with a frustrated sigh, well aware that her light could also draw enemy attention, but she was tired and cold and she wanted her bedroll and sleep and maybe some of that leftover stew from the evening meal.
He touched her back, fleetingly stroking it like he would calm an agitated horse. She hated to admit that it did comfort her, her traitorous body recognising his touch as safe when it was anything but. “Ivan will find us in the morning.”
“If we still have heartbeats then,” Alina muttered, shaking off the effect he had on her even through all her layers. At least the prospect of imminent death was sobering. She was not fond of the thought of having to spend the entire night out in the cold. In a flash of dark humour she added, “Mal at least should also be able to find our frozen corpses if it comes to that.”
“We won’t freeze, Alina.”
“Feels an awful lot like it.”
Aleksander frowned and looked at her properly for the first time in hours, taking in her shivering form under the heavy, but still not warm enough coat she’d donned before they left the camp. “How cold are you?”
“Very. I can barely feel my limbs anymore,” she answered, experimentally wiggling her toes in her heavy winter boots. She could still do it, but they felt curiously sore and numb at the same time. Her hands felt much the same, maybe even worse since she had to hold them out to illuminate their way. Aleksander’s frown deepened.
“We’ll concentrate on finding shelter. There was…,” he trailed off and peered around, looking for something. Alina frowned, but at his gesture she brightened her light again a bit so they could see their surroundings. “Do you remember where we came from?” he asked, and did she imagine the slightly sheepish tone in his voice?
Luckily, she did remember. She pointed at the bush that had snagged Aleksander’s cloak, its shape distinctive enough to serve as a landmark even through the snow. “From there.”
She definitely didn’t imagine his tiny sigh of relief as he nodded and then headed into the direction she’d pointed. Alina hurried to follow him. “Why are we going back?”
“We passed a hollow and a fallen tree on our way here. It’s not ideal, but it might give us shelter from the wind at least.”
“I could use some of that,” Alina admitted, shivering again. Her hands trembled and her light flickered for a moment as her concentration wavered, and suddenly Aleksander was next to her and throwing his heavy cloak over her shoulders. Alina startled and stared at him, but he just looked at her calmly. A lump formed in her throat from the tenderness in his eyes. “Aleksander…”
“Come on,” he said softly and turned away, the gentle expression on his face already wiped away again, leaving behind only his unreadable mask. “Let’s find shelter. You can pay me back by warming me up again once we do.”
Alina started and spluttered, flushing bright red at his words but unable to deny the rush of want they sent through her body, however much she wanted to. She swore she could see the corner of his lips twitching and her face heated even more, but… she could admit to herself that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant and just a bit exhilarating.
She wouldn’t tell him that, though. She was still mad at him.
But a girl could be forgiven for wanting in the privacy of her thoughts, no?
They traced their steps back in silence until Aleksander stopped and pointed at a fallen tree whose roots had torn the earth beneath it open and created a deep hollow, mostly filled with snow except for a small space directly beneath the canopy of dangling roots. “We’ll rest there.”
Alina eyed it critically. “Looks cosy.”
“It’s shelter. However, we might be able to improve it slightly.”
“How?”
Aleksander strode to the nearest bush and cut it down with a quick gesture and his shadows. Grabbing the stem, he dragged it towards the hollow and placed it there, panting slightly from the exertion. “Like this. Come, help me with these.”
Together, Alina and Aleksander spent the next minutes – or hour, Alina couldn’t tell through her exhaustion – dragging bushes and breaking off branches to weave them into their improvised barrier. Or rather, Aleksander did most of the work while Alina provided the necessary light, feeling utterly useless in the process and colder than ever now that she’d stopped moving. She knew this was the best she could do right now – she hadn’t mastered the Cut yet, and she needed her hands to keep the ball of light floating between them. Aleksander also trusted her to keep watch in case they gained the attention of any drüskelle, so rationally she knew she was doing her part and wasn’t useless. Still, it felt like it. She should be able to do more, especially now that she had the Stag’s antlers in her pocket, just waiting to be fastened to her by David.
After what felt like ages but was probably barely more than thirty minutes of working in silence, Aleksander stepped back from the makeshift shelter he’d built for them and Alina was glad to see that it looked much better than before. He’d constructed a small wall around the hollow using the bushes and branches that would offer them some protection against the frigid wind. The wall was far from perfect and it wouldn’t do much against the falling snow, but it was better than nothing and much better than anything she could have made on her own. Aleksander however didn’t look very happy with his work. “Given more time and materials I could do better, but,” he glanced at Alina, shivering even beneath his heavy cloak, “it’ll do to keep off most of the wind and snow. Come, Alina.”
Using her own coat as a blanket on the ground to ward off at least some of the chill and moisture, they huddled down beneath the small roof of roots, Aleksander’s big cloak wrapped around them, leaving only their heads poking out.
It was a strange feeling, this. Sitting so close to him, inhaling his scent, letting his warmth seep into her bones and warm her up more efficiently than any coat or campfire could ever hope to achieve. He breathed steadily beside her and it was just the two of them in this little cave of theirs. Snow fell quietly outside and only the wind rustled through the undergrowth, making leaves and branches whisper to themselves.
It was peaceful.
With an exhale she allowed herself to relax and lay her head on his shoulder, and tension she hadn’t even been aware of left his body in a sigh that echoed her own. Tentatively, as if to test her reaction, he wrapped an arm around her middle and pulled her impossibly closer.
She allowed it.
They were quiet for a long time, simply watching the snow fall through the dark night, Alina’s light long extinguished, her hands tired and cold from extended summoning. Now darkness hugged her close in its embrace.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She could feel Aleksander shift next to her but she kept her eyes on the dark forest. She didn’t trust herself not to sink into his dark eyes, not to get lost in their depths and forget everything outside of them. His closeness was awakening an ache in her that was harder and harder to resist with every minute, but she wasn’t ready to give in just yet.
She needed to hear his reasons first. She wanted to understand.
He was quiet for a long time and Alina let him. He lied easily, so effortlessly and quick, hid behind half-truths like the centuries old mastermind he was, and yet the truth was the hardest thing he could give her.
“Would you have, if our roles had been reversed and the fate of Grisha-kind lay on your shoulders? If everything you’ve worked toward for centuries could fall apart with one careless word to the wrong person, would you have told me?”
Now she did look at him, anger sparking in her gut. “Turning the question back on me is not an answer.”
“No,” he acknowledged, his eyes boring into hers. “But it’s something to think about. I couldn’t risk revealing my plans for you and the Fold, for Ravka, too early. I couldn’t risk that you’d turn against me. I need you, Alina. Grisha need you.”
Alina exhaled shakily, the heat inside of her dying and morphing into something else, some melancholic, bitter emotion she didn’t have the words for. “You almost lost me by revealing them too late. You would have lost me if you’d killed the Stag and taken my power for yourself.”
“I know.”
“You should have trusted me! I want to see our people as safe as you do.”
“Do you?” he asked softly, and it felt like a slap in the face all the more for it. It hurt even more because it was a sincere question; he wasn’t mocking her, and he wasn’t being sarcastic. He was asking if her commitment was truly as great as she claimed it to be and the truth was… she didn’t know. She cared for the friends she’d made at the Little Palace, and she was appalled by the stories they’d told her of their childhoods. Most hadn’t been happy. They reminded her of her own experience at the orphanage and in the army when humans who should have been comrades and friends mocked and shunned her for something she couldn’t help being. As a child she would have done anything to make them accept her. She still craved that acceptance now as an adult and the Little Palace was the first place she’d ever felt truly welcome. She did want to see that place and its people protected.
How must Aleksander feel after centuries of working toward that goal but never quite reaching it?
But she also realised that it wasn’t just Grisha she wanted to see safe. There was so much suffering in Ravka, so much pain that the country screamed with it. Never ending war tore sons and daughters from their parents and made orphans out of children, and hunger and sickness ravaged the country because no one was left to plough and harvest the fields and the resulting weakness of the body called to plagues like an old friend. And the Fold – it may be a weapon and a shield, but first of all it was a blight upon the country, separating Ravka and the hearts of its people and causing fear and dissent.
She couldn’t say she understood the centuries of pain and disappointment in humanity Aleksander carried or his unlimited drive to succeed that justified all means, but maybe… maybe she could try. She didn’t agree with his plans and methods and she wasn’t as disillusioned as he was, but she could try to understand and maybe help him find a better way. A way for not only Grisha but all of Ravka to find peace. She wanted to make her country a place where no one had to fight, where children didn’t lose their parents to constant war or where ravenous shadows didn’t part the country just physically but also spiritually.
If he let her.
“Yes,” she finally answered as softly as he had been and he shuddered, his grip around her waist tightening for a second before relaxing again. She could see him swallow and open his mouth to say something, but nothing came forth. Finally, after what seemed like ages but was only seconds, he gave up and simply buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in, clinging to her as if she was his lifeline.
Alina let him.
She had no illusions that things would be smooth sailing from here on out. She was still just a girl finding her place and her true strength while he carried centuries of pain and bitterness in his heart. He was set in his ways and ideas in a way she was not, and maybe he would change her. Or maybe she could change him instead. They would fight, she knew. With words or blows, they would clash sooner or later.
She could only hope it wouldn’t be as enemies but as allies, fighting for the same goal.
Thoughts heavy but heart lighter than it had been since the Winter Fete, she let Aleksander’s warmth and presence envelop her and lull her into sleep.