Chapter Text
There wasn’t anything extraordinary about the unbroken field of golden grass he stood in, but it was quiet. And Aleksander needed quiet.
The headache he’d sustained courtesy of the Tsar’s consistent nagging had begun to fade the farther he got from Os Alta. By the time the carriage and company had reached Duke Keramzov’s manor, it was just a dull throbbing in the front of his head. Aleksander’s visit to the reclusive noble’s estate wasn’t urgent. But after the week he’d suffered in Os Alta, accompanying the Grisha testers to one of the Duke’s patron orphanages sounded more pleasant than listening to the Tsar’s insults towards the Second Army.
After a grand but unnecessary welcome from the aging Duke, Aleksander had asked where he might find some peace while his Grisha settled into their borrowed rooms. The Duke had graciously pointed out a meadow just outside the orphanage, which was a few miles from the estate. It gave Aleksander what he was looking for; some peace, a place to let his thoughts wander for a few moments. The quiet air, sparsely decorated with the whistling grass and birdsongs, sent the throbbing in his head into nonexistence until the headache was a distant memory.
Unfortunately, it did not ease the aching loneliness in his heart, however small it was.
Aleksander knew the word for it: soulmate. But that was impossible since no one knew if they even had a soulmate until their skin kissed for the first time.
And yet, he’d always felt that there was some part of him that was incomplete. Like a puzzle piece that was missing from the shape of his heart. A missing piece that was only more prominent as time passed. After four centuries of enduring eternity alone, Aleksander had wondered if this was the Saints’ way of punishing him for his sins. To always have a piece of himself missing and never be able to find it.
The sound of footsteps trampling the golden grass roused Aleksander from his musings.
And then he saw her.
The girl was on the short side, with tangled black hair falling down her shoulders, a couple of strands pulled back from her almond-shaped eyes. She was carrying a small bouquet of blue flowers, likely picked from another section of the meadow. But what surprised Aleksander wasn’t the girl’s presence but rather the way she looked at him.
He was so used to others staring with fear or greed, but she stared at him with the most sensitive eyes he’d ever seen. Like this girl saw the terrified boy who was afraid of the dark underneath his steel mask.
She stared at him curiously after composing herself from being taken by surprise at seeing someone new in the meadow. Likely this was a place only she went to, perhaps where she could forget her trouble for a while.
It took Aleksander aback when she started walking towards him instead of fleeing in the other direction. He was utterly frozen until she was only a few feet away from him.
“Hello,” Aleksander barely registered her quiet voice. He gently shook his head to bring his thoughts back to reality.
“My apologies, little one,” his voice cracked ever so slightly, “I wasn’t aware this was your spot.”
The girl’s eyes became downcast, and Aleksander feared he’d upset her. Fortunately, her voice vanished all of his doubts.
“It’s not really my spot,” she explained, “I used to come here all the time with Mal, but lately, he doesn’t come at all.”
This boy, Mal, was probably a friend of hers. A pretty lousy one if the girl’s sour expression gave it away.
“I’ve never seen you before,” the girl changed the subject, “Why are you here?”
Aleksander thought for a moment. He’d removed his kefta before leaving the estate but kept his black cloak which was fortunately devoid of any eclipse symbols. The last thing he’d wanted was someone recognizing him and asking questions. So far, the girl showed no signs of knowing him.
“I’m here on business,” Aleksander began (After four hundred years, he’d found that the best lies were half true and half false.), “And I’m glad I took this job. It’s giving me the chance to...clear my head.”
“Are you from the capital?” the girl asked.
“Why, yes,” Aleksander was stunned how she’d quickly come to that conclusion, “I just came from Os Alta.”
The girl clasped her hands, still holding the iris bouquet, behind her back as she stared out into the tall grass, “Is it true the library there is bigger than the one here?”
If she was asking about the Little Palace, then yes, it was.
“You like to read?” Aleksander asked. She nodded.
“Sometimes, if I’m good, Madame Kuya will let me visit the Duke’s library,” she explained, “The other kids are jealous because they think she favors me. But I think she pities me.”
A frown crossed the girl’s face before she quickly erased it, “Madame Kuya said once that knowledge is more powerful than muscle. Said if I was lacking physically, I should make up for it with my brain.”
“This Madame Kuya sounds like a wise woman,” Aleksander reasoned. It sounded like something he would have said to his peers. That knowledge was just as powerful as strength. And it could be just as deadly as a blade.
There was a pause in their conversation. The only sound filling the air was the gentle rustling of grass as the wind slowly shifted. Finally, the girl broke the silence.
“I’m Alina.”
Alina. A Ravkan name, meaning bright. It was fitting, given her character, even if he’d only known her for a few minutes.
“What’s yours?” Alina asked him.
He considered lying, using the name he’d chosen for this version of himself. But looking into her dark eyes, he couldn’t bear the thought of lying to her about that. Something urged him to confide in her, that she was just as lonely as he was.
“Call me Aleksander,” he said, and he felt like a weight came off his chest at that moment.
Alina smiled, then plucked one of the flowers from her makeshift bouquet and extended her arm out to him.
“Here,” she said.
Aleksander stared at the bloom in her hand. Up close, he could see the yellow streaks that bloomed from the center of the flower, and the iris’s bright blue petals reminded him of the Etherialki keftas.
“You look like you need it more than I do,” Alina explained. Aleksander must have been wearing a confused expression upon seeing the flower offered to him.
“What makes you think I need-” his question was cut off when Alina dropped the rest of the flowers in exasperation and grabbed his right hand with her left, shoving the blossom into his open palm.
“You wear too much black,” she explained candidly, “Blue looks better on you.”
He begged to differ. The lining of his tunic was red, as was the embroidery on his black handkerchiefs, but he started to see what Alina meant. The red made him appear vicious, a warrior cast in shadow. Blue reminded him of peaceful times when darkness was meant to be restful and healing.
Their quiet peace was interrupted when a woman’s sharp voice rang through the air.
“Alina!”
She turned her head, and Aleksander followed her gaze. It was coming from the orphanage, which was closer than he’d realized. He shuddered to think what others would say if they saw him sitting on the grass talking to one of the orphans. Alina turned back to him with a frown.
“I should go,” she whispered.
“I understand,” Aleksander softly smiled, “You wouldn’t want Madame Kuya to worry about you.”
Alina smiled, then gathered the flowers she’d dropped and turned back to the orphanage.
Alone once more, Aleksander reflected on his conversation. This Mal that Alina had mentioned earlier must also be an orphan.
She was a child who’d lost her parents and yet was too young to know what loneliness felt like.
Aleksander looked again at the iris in his hand, and he could have sworn that the empty space in his heart was starting to feel warmer.
****************
Alina woke up the next morning long before the other girls did. The sun was barely beginning to rise, and Alina relished the moment of peace that she had. The orphanage was hardly quiet at times, and one of the first things Alina had learned when she’d first arrived in Keramzin was how to fall asleep when she was surrounded by noise. But it was blissfully quiet now, and it allowed Alina a moment to reflect on last night.
Last night, it could have been a dream were it not for the batch of irises that rested on the dresser across the room.
Yesterday, she and Mal planned to go to the meadow once they’d finished their afternoon chores, but some of the other boys had invited him to play. It didn’t matter to them that he was half-Suli, as long as he looked Ravkan enough.
He looked more Ravkan than Alina. And every moment that Mal chose the other kids over her only made that point more obvious.
Alina could count on one hand the number of times she’d spent with Mal in the last year. The year before that, she could count on both hands and still have fingers left over.
So she’d gone to the meadow alone, which was becoming more common nowadays, and had just wandered among the grass when she’d come across a patch of blue irises. Alina didn’t know the exact reason why she liked those flowers, but the color reminded her of a pretty blue coat she’d seen in her mother’s hope chest once.
One of the few memories of her parents that didn’t involve fire, gunshots, and the cries of villagers.
After she’d plucked some flowers (maybe she should give some to Ana Kuya, the old matron had let her go the library more often this week), Alina had wandered further into the meadow, listening to the rustling of golden grass in the wind.
That was when she saw him.
Although he was sitting on the ground, Alina could tell that this man was tall. He wore a dark cloak that made him stick out like a sore thumb amidst the golden grass. Alina had been taken aback slightly by the appearance of this man; no one else had ever visited the meadow except for her and Mal.
But surprise faded to curiosity as she studied him further.
He looked so young. He was older than Alina, at least an adult, but younger than Masha, one of the orphanage employees, and she’d just turned thirty. His short, dark hair was artfully brushed from his face, not a strand falling loose; was this some kind of Grisha magic from the capital? His beard was shorter than the Duke’s but just as well kept. But what was most intriguing about him were his eyes. They were as dark as a clear night sky and looked at her with the same surprise she’d felt earlier. Like her, he must have believed that no one else visited the meadow.
When he spoke to her, he was incredibly polite, and he didn’t seem to mind that she was half Shu. His conversation was pleasant, and he was genuinely interested in her love of reading.
It was when he told her his name (Aleksander) that she noticed his eyes again. He was smiling, a rather small one, but his eyes looked sad. They looked like the Duke’s eyes whenever she ended up bumping into him in the library once. Ana Kuya had told her once that the Duke had lost his wife, the Duchess Keramzov, a few years ago, which had poorly affected his already bad health.
Those were the eyes of loneliness, Ana Kuya had said. A loneliness that hadn’t gone away even after Duke Keramzov’s daughter returned home to tend to her father.
Perhaps that was why Alina had offered Aleksander the flower. To get rid of the sad look in his eyes. Plus, the blue petals looked well with his black cloak.
When Alina returned to the orphanage for late meal, Mal didn’t bother to ask where she’d gone, and she didn’t bother to tell him. It was apparent that he’d enjoyed playing with the other children so much that he hadn’t thought of her for a moment. The only time he’d talked to her was right before bed, when he’d gone over their plan to hide in the meadow until the testers left, just as they had done for the last two years. Alina had agreed, then took her bouquet of irises to the dresser before going to bed.
While lying in bed waiting to fall asleep, Alina had contemplated her friendship with Mal. He’d been the first person to approach her in the orphanage when she’d arrived four years ago, despite being a year older than Alina. Little Alina had latched onto Mal when she first met him, the first feeling of warmth she felt since her parents’ deaths.
Once, so long ago, Alina had thought that Mal would be her soulmate.
But no matter how many times they held hands, no signs of a flower appeared on their skin. And after the first time they hid from the testers two years ago, Mal had begun to branch off as he became more sure of himself, while Alina was left in the dark and her own self-doubt. And the warmth that she’d felt when she first met Mal had begun to fade until there was no trace of it now.
Alina had thought of staying and letting the testers test if she was Grisha last year, but one look at Mal, with his panicked expression at the thought of facing the Grisha (witches, he called them, like many of the other orphans), and she’d taken his hand as they fled to the meadow.
She would turn eleven in a few weeks this summer. What was the point of staying here if Mal continued to ignore her, and there was no sign of a flower on his palm where they once held hands? If she stayed and continued to pine over Mal, would she end up like Aleksander? Alone and cold, desperate for the warmth of companionship?
The testers were coming today. Alina made up her mind. If there was nothing worth staying for in Keramzin, maybe that was fate telling her it was time to move on. She wouldn’t go with Mal to the meadow; she would gather with the other children in the front hall, stand in line and have the testers prick her skin to see if she was Grisha.
And if she was, then it was time to say goodbye.