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Aleksander runs his hands over the beads of Luda's hair ornament—garnet and moonstone, accented and framed by black spinel.
In some lights, the garnets look far too much like drops of blood for his comfort, even after four centuries. But perhaps that's why his Corporalnik wife loves them.
The Durasts say that you can tell a lot about a person by their favorite gemstone. Luda's garnets glow with vitality, tough and precious, filled with a steady light. And the ones in this piece of jewelry come from the finest source in Ravka—Ivets, where they were first found as pebbles in river gravel. Garnets from Ivets have been prominent in the jewelry of several Tsaritsas, visible in the portraits that hang in the Grand Palace. Every time he sees them, he thinks that one day they will adorn a truly worthy queen.
There are grey moonstones in her jewelry, too. She'd always liked wearing grey as well as crimson, and she'd wanted those gems specifically.
“For the nights I've watched the moon in your arms,” she'd told him once when they lay in bed. “For knowing I am safe and secure in the dark.” He'd held her close then and nuzzled her hair, overwhelmed with gratitude as he so often was when he was with her.
Then there is faceted black spinel, like his ring. Luda said she likes the way it glitters. It hasn't been popular with the Court for centuries, but long, long ago pebbles of black spinel had been favored by devotees of the old beliefs, well before the Saints or the unification of Ravka.
For years, her jewelry had been silver, matching the silver accents in her kefta's embroidery. Tonight, both are gold, in celebration of and connection with the Sun Summoner. He has a new kefta as well, with traces of gold at the cuffs and collar, framing the crimson silk he wears in Luda's honor.
He fastens the hairpiece into her pinned-up hair, then caresses the nape of her neck bared by the style. “One day a crown,” he whispers in her ear.
She squeezes his hand and leans back against him, sending him love and reassurance through the tether. They both dread interacting with the Royal Family, but it's necessary. For now.
There's a shiver of excitement through the tether, and Alina walks into the room. “Genya just finished—what do you think?” she asks.
She's magnificent in her black formal kefta, richly embroidered in gold with deep red accents. She's adorned in gold and black spinel, accented with tiny garnets at her request.
“You look wonderful,” Luda says, getting up to embrace her. Aleksander follows, and wraps both of them in his arms.
“Extraordinary,” he says, kissing the spot under Alina's ear that never fails to make her shiver in pleasure.
She kisses him, and then Luda, and for a few moments they are lost in each other, letting their lips and the tether carry their affection.
Outside the door, Ivan clears his throat, an unwelcome reminder that they are on a schedule. The Imperial Family will be arriving soon, and his Grisha would have to entertain them like circus animals. This Winter Fete is extra special and carries extra expectations, because it will be Alina's debut.
Aleksander hopes that someday soon, maybe in just a few years, this sort of performance will no longer be necessary. Discontent against the Lantsovs is growing in the countryside. From the beginning of the dynasty, the Lantsovs had spread the belief that they were chosen by the Saints. It was a belief propped up by successive Apparats, themselves jockeying for position. But with a real living Saint and a bit of care to avoid the excesses of the Lantsovs, he and his beloveds might finally have a chance to take the throne and rule Ravka well.
They let go of each other reluctantly. Luda smooths some stray hairs back into place.
“Don't want Genya to be annoyed with us,” says Alina, checking her hair in the mirror. She runs a hand through Aleksander's hair too, both affectionate and tidying.
Ivan clears his throat again.
"Or Ivan either," says Luda.
"It's time," says Aleksander. "Are you ready, Alinochka?"
"I am," she says, and there's no doubt in his mind she speaks the truth.
*
Zinaida Istomina walks behind General and Lady Kirigan and the Sun Summoner on their way back to their shared quarters after the end of the festivities. Another oprichnik walks next to her in precise formation, and two more go ahead of the group.
Despite the stillness and severity of the expression Zinaida wears when she is on duty, inside she is buzzing with awe after the Sun Summoner's demonstration. She'd been there for her initial presentation to the Tsar as well, but the skill and beauty of the Summoning this evening had been something else entirely. She'd understood why so many of the visiting dignitaries had murmured “Sankta Alina” at the sight.
Zinaida had joined the Little Palace as an Oprichnik ten years ago. Her older sister had already been part of the Second Army for two years, and whenever her family made the journey from Balakirev to Os Alta, she never wanted to leave. When she was old enough to train, she got her wish. She had long hoped to be Grisha herself, perhaps a squaller like her sister, but at least she got to spend time with them and be part of those who kept them, and the General and Lady Kirigan, safe. She had applied herself to her training with diligence and risen through the ranks, respected for her perceptiveness and discretion.
So she tries not to listen as she walks behind her charges as they return to their rooms after the Winter Fete. She really does.
Miss Starkov had enjoyed the champagne toasts with the visiting dignitaries—quite a bit, if her weaving steps are any indication. The Kirigans support her from either side. There are rumors that the Lady, the Second Army's highest ranking Corporalnik, is capable of making someone sober up in a few minutes. If it's true, it seems she hasn't yet seen fit to do it here.
"I—I have a secret," the Sun Summoner declares, her words slightly slurred. Zinaida restrains herself from walking closer. Whether she wants to protect her charge from indiscreet confessions or hear them better is something dares not admit, not even to herself.
The General and Lady Kirigan's eyes meet over Miss Starkov's head, but neither of them say anything out loud. Zinaida can't help but feel that there's an entire conversation happening, maybe among all three of them, beyond whatever words are being spoken. The General and the Lady had been somewhat like that for as long as Zinaida had been working for them, but since the Sun Summoner arrived the sense of unspoken conversation had gotten much more intense among the three of them.
Part of oprichnik training was observation and quick assessment of situations. Zinaida was sure that even someone without that training would have picked up on the way that the Kirigans and Miss Starkov had quickly become close. There had been gossip among the oprichniki and bets placed on how long it would be before the lovely bed in the Vezda suite was found empty in the morning, and then how long it would be, if ever, before the General added gold to his kefta.
Zinaida hadn't participated, not really. Well, not to the degree that some of her comrades had, at least.
Miss Starkov giggles, and the Kirigans step the tiniest bit closer. “A secret,” she slurs again, ending in a little hiccup.
“And what is that, my love?” the General murmurs in her ear, just at the edge of Zinaida's hearing.
The Sun Summoner takes a little step, looking like she's about to either skip or swoon. She does neither, but simply stops moving. Lady Kirigan wraps her arm around her more tightly, and kisses the top of her head.
The little group has come to a halt just around the corner from the General's suite. The only people around are Oprichniki. Perhaps that's why neither of the Kirigans seem concerned about whatever the Sun Summoner is about to reveal.
“I-I love you!” Miss Starkov exclaims loudly. “Both of you!” She giggles, and leans on the General's chest. “Both of you...” she says again, and trails off.
“That's hardly a secret, lyubimaya,” Lady Kirigan says. “But I'm always happy to hear it again. And we love you too.”
The Sun Summoner giggles again. “Let's get you home,” says the General, and picks her up easily. Miss Starkov kisses him, then pulls Lady Kirigan into a embrace and kisses her.
The group moves forward again, none of Zinaida's charges seeming to care about their intimacies being witnessed.
“Yes! Home...” Miss Starkov breathes from the General's arms.
And then the three of them are inside the thick wooden doors of Kirigan's suite. If the Sun Summoner reveals any further secrets, they are held by the walls and her beloveds' ears, never reaching Zinaida and her comrades at their posts outside.