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“Sankta Alina! Sankta Alina!” the crowds called.
Around her, the Apparat's acolytes sang hymns and handed out bread. “The Saints bring you blessings!” the Apparat called from his place behind her. A number of Priestguards flanked him, ready to step in in case the crowd pressed too close to the procession or became violent. But there were no signs of unrest. The Apparate and the acolytes praised all the saints, but the people of Os Alta only seemed interested in one: Alina.
There were only a few clouds, and it was so easy for Alina to bring her hands together and call a gentle veil of light to sparkle over her and send little lights dancing over the crowd. “Sankta Alina!” the crowds chanted and sang as they received their bread, and Alina remembered the Apparat's words after her demonstration at the Winter Fete.
“There is something far greater than armies, something strong enough to topple kings and generals, to crumble nations and birth empires. Faith, Alina,” he'd said, and she hadn't quite understood it then.
She did now. She was counting on it—she and Aleksander both.
*
It had been a long road to get there.
After the first horseback ride where Aleksander had given her his name, there had been many others. They would go to the strange fountain in a clearing in the palace woods and just talk. Alina asked about things that didn't make sense in her training—if what Baghra was doing could properly be described as training. Aleksander would talk about what it meant to be Grisha, both now and in the past. And little by little, Alina felt more and more a part of the community that Aleksander described, and horrified by his descriptions of what Grisha had suffered in the past.
She talked to Ivan too, after Aleksander insisted he was quite funny once one got to know him. She still reserved judgement on that point, but she did come to respect him for the way he refused to blunt the truth, however unpleasant.
And it was clear that for a long time, things had been very unpleasant for Grisha. They still couldn't marry or own land and had to enlist in the Second Army. The food that she and Mal had so envied came from Grisha greenhouses or the Kirigan estate's own funds.
As Alina learned more about what it meant to be Grisha, her own powers felt closer and closer. Until one day, the light came easily to her call. Baghra looked almost startled. And that night, tracing the scar on her palm, Alina remembered how she had actually gotten it, and how she had suppressed part of herself afterwards.
No more. She was done with that. She wanted to learn all she could about her powers and what she was capable of, and she wanted to use it to help her people.
On their next ride to the fountain, Aleksander pulled shadows around the clearing and she called the sun, lighting the space between the two of them. When both their Summoning had dissipated and the clearing was ordinary again, Alina saw the softness in Aleksander's eyes. They had moved closer to each other, and Aleksander was leaning toward her. She reached for him, and he didn't move away. So she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulled him to her, and kissed him.
The kiss was soft, and their noses brushed as they pulled away.
“Alina,” Aleksander whispered. “Not many people surprise me.”
And then they were kissing again, fiercer and deeper this time. She wound her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck and he moaned against her mouth. She could feel his amplification humming against her skin. And there was something else too. A thread, a connection between them. It felt like the dappled light of the forest, sunlight and shadow woven together. She could sense his desire and his patient, fragile hope.
“Aleksander,” she whispered against his lips, and there was a surge of emotion through their connection.
“What is this?” she murmured. She'd never felt anything like it before, but she wasn't afraid. It was a marvel.
“A connection between us,” he said, his voice awed. “I've read speculation about such things, but never knew it was possible. But then again, I hadn't met you yet.”
*
They both had duties at the Little Palace, so they weren't able to linger at the fountain kissing and talking for as long as Alina wanted.
Aleksander was called away to the front the next day, so Alina was astonished when she saw him in her room that evening.
“Sasha?” she asked and walked over to him. “I thought you had left the Little Palace.”
“I did,” Aleksander said.
She hugged him, and he felt solid. When she touched him, she could see his surroundings flickering around him—the inside of his ornate black tent. She pinched herself—she was definitely awake. “How?” she whispered.
“It must be our connection,” said Aleksander, awed.
“Feels like our souls are tied together,” Alina said. “Like a tether.”
“Are you happy about it?” Aleksander asked. His surroundings were beginning to flicker, but he held her tightly.
“Very,” Alina said.
*
Over the next few weeks that Aleksander was gone, they saw each other occasionally during waking hours through their new tether, and once in a dream that felt too real to only be a dream. Their connection felt like it was solidifying, although Alina still missed him terribly.
Aleksander had taken over her training from Baghra once Alina could summon reliably. He was a much better teacher as it turned out. While he was gone, Alina took the time to practice on her own and to spend hours in the library learning more about Grisha history.
He arrived back at the Little Palace late at night, but the next morning Genya brought breakfast and his invitation for their usual horseback ride to the well clearing.
Once there, they embraced and kissed for a long time. When they took a break so Aleksander could feed their patient horses treats, Alina stared at the sculptures on the well. Her recent reading had given her a lot to think about.
“Was the Black Heretic truly hungry for power, or did he simply want Grisha to survive?” she asked, when Aleksander had walked back over to her. “I've heard the stories. I've read old annals in the library. How do we know that this is the correct story, when it's the one the reigning dynasty chose to display in this fountain, and all Grisha must now be that dynasty's soldiers?'
Aleksander went still, but his eyes and his presence in the tether were fond. “Be careful who you say such things to,” he said. “Not everyone will be happy to have the story everyone knows questioned.”
“You don't sound that unhappy about my questions,” said Alina.
“No, Alinochka, I'm not. I'm grateful for them,” he said, wrapping his arms around her again.
“Why?” she asked, already wondering if she knew the answer.
“Because I know you'll understand,” he whispered, fear and anticipation thrumming through the tether.
“Tell me,” Alina said, kissing him.
They sat down on the bench by the fountain and he did. He told her the story of the Black Heretic, while the tether resounded with emotion and the truth of it.
It had not been a coup. The only power he had wanted was the power to protect his people, and for his people to be able to protect themselves, and he had been terribly betrayed. Alina sobbed as he talked about his beloved's murder, feeling all the emotions as if it had been yesterday. When he talked about merzost and the Fold, his eyes had been almost apologetic for how terribly it had gone wrong. But he'd been backed into a corner. It had been an utter last resort, and the beginning of a precarious new era of Grisha usefulness. A usefulness and contingent safety that was threatened now with the development of new weapons and West Ravka's willingness to collaborate with the Druskelle.
The sun was nearly setting when he finished the story. Alina held him tightly. The Black Heretic, her beloved. She glanced at the fountain, and then at his face, and remembered the grotesque Shu caricature poster the First Army had displayed.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said.
“You're not afraid of me?” he asked, his dark eyes wide in the twilight.
“No,” she said, kissing him. “No, I'm not.” She could only imagine what she would do if she had experienced half of what he had described—and she knew there were so many other stories he hadn't told her about his life, since she now knew he was almost 600 years old. He had bowed and scraped to the descendants of the king who had betrayed him for 400 of those years. She was certain she would have lost patience after only a few decades.
“I am even less happy about having to perform for the Imperial Family at the Winter Fete next week, though,” she said.
“I understand,” said Aleksander. “It chafes, every year. But watch and listen. It's an excellent occasion to see how power moves, in Ravka and beyond.”
“I want to do more than that,” said Alina.
Aleksander smiled. “Trust me, you will.”
*
Regardless of how she felt about performing for the descendant of Anastas Lantsov, her demonstration at the Winter Fete had been spectacular. And afterwards, after the toasts and the dinner and the acclamations of “Sankta Alina,” she and Aleksander had finally been able to retire to his rooms. He took her to his bed as she had wanted for a long time, and the night was full of their mutual pleasure. She woke up snuggled against him and wanted to stay right there for the rest of the day, at least.
Unfortunately, that wasn't an option for either of them. The next few days were a flurry of events for both of them, and Alina watched and listened throughout all of them.
“The Apparat wants me to study with him and his acolytes in the Grand Palace, and to do charity work for the Church of the Saints,” Alina said a few days later, as they sat on Aleksander's couch after dinner in his suite. “The Tsar even supports me taking a break in my training to do this.”
“The Apparat has quite a lot of influence, especially when the Tsar is distracted,” said Aleksander, and took a sip of kvas. “What do you think about this?”
“I think it could be very useful,” Alina said. “Another way into the Grand Palace. As long as I don't end up married to Vasily or professing my vows to become a nun. Or being martyred, considering how the Apparat talks about saints suffering.”
“I will not let that happen,” Aleksander nearly growled, his presence fierce through the tether. He pulled her into his arms. “I will tear apart the Grand Palace myself before that happens.”
Alina kissed him, long and deeply. “I want to do this,” she said afterwards. “I want to help.”
“You will,” Aleksander said solemnly. “And first, you'll train.” He sounded very serious, more like General Kirigan than her lover Sasha who held her close in the night. “Training to be a spy is very intense, even more so than to be a soldier or a Summoner. It will push you to your limits. No one here will be cruel to you for cruelty's sake, but it will not be easy. Do you understand?”
Alina considered his words. She still wanted this, very much. She was excited to learn the full extent of what she could and to test her own limits. “Yes, I do,” she said.
“I can't imagine we'll have a lot of time. A month, perhaps two. And you must always be aware that the Apparat has his own network of spies. So do the Tsar and Tsaritsa. You will not know everything that we are planning, or everyone who is involved. You can't give up information you don't have.”
Alina nodded. “When do we start?”
“Very soon,” said Aleksander. He held her close. “And I assure you, as difficult as it will be, one day this will all be worth it.” He whispered in her ear, “There will be two thrones on that dias, lyubimaya.”
*
Her training began the next day. Sasha and Ivan talked to her about building and maintaining a cover, although in her case it wouldn't be a separate identity. She would need to conceal her true motives and views, however. Over the next few weeks, she learned how to observe her surroundings and blend into crowds without being noticed. She sat in on meetings and lessons of all three Grisha orders and discussed what she had noticed. Several times, Aleksander and Ivan had her walk through the Little Palace or its grounds and take note of anything she found to be suspicious. They also did exercises where she was also supposed to figure out if someone was following her and if so, who it was. Half the time, no one was actually following her at all.
She and Aleksander also tested the tether. They were better able to open it at will and find each other now. They each drew or wrote messages and showed the other, who recreated what they saw on their own sheet of paper. They met up in person to compare them, and the results were promising.
It was challenging, like Aleksander warned. But it was also exciting. She enjoyed the thrill of mastering her summoning while also learning a completely different set of skills. She could use all of them to help Grisha, and even if she sometimes felt nervous, she looked forward to getting started.
*
Alina collapsed in her bed. It had been a long day of training with Botkin, practicing her summoning with Aleksander, and then sitting in and observing his meetings. She had debriefed with him late into the night but was finally done. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
She woke up suddenly in confusion. There were voices nearby—there were people—
They put a hood over her head and began to pull her out of bed. She kicked and fought against them, trying to put her hands together to summon. Two attackers held them apart. She lashed out as best she could, but without being able to see, her kicks couldn't connect.
Her attackers finally dragged her out of bed without giving her a chance to put on her shoes. She thought there were at least four of them. They pulled her out the door of her suite. She tried to keep track of the turns they took, but it was an unfamiliar route—one she didn't think was possible, although she was only barely awake. She'd have to ask Aleksander about that.
Aleksander—She reached out and tugged on the tether, but there was nothing. She tugged harder-still nothing. The other end of the tether was empty and cold.
Somewhere ahead, a door was opening, and the air was colder and stale. She was being walked, not at all gently, down some steps. “Keep moving, girl!” one of her abductors hissed. She stumbled, but didn't fall.
This wasn't good at all. She'd half expected that this was some kind of prank, but it seemed like her attackers were completely serious. The stairs went on and on, and then there was a bit of flat hallway and more stairs, rougher this time under her bare feet. The musty air filtered through the hood on her head. It smelled like these rooms had gone unused for decades, if not centuries.
“Here,” one of her captors said. They shoved her against a rough stone wall. Two sets of hands held each wrist, clasping something on one, then another, then attaching it to something with a clank. She tried to bring her hands together, or lower them. She couldn't. Her hands were cuffed and shackled to the wall and there was some sort of bar between them, keeping them apart.
One of her captors kicked her feet apart, then pressed against the back of her legs until her knees bent. “Stay there,” he growled.
She tried to straighten up. Something slammed into the back of her legs. “I said, don't move,” the same person growled.
And then there was silence. Her captors must all be somewhere behind her, but they moved more quietly than she imagined possible. The back of her neck prickled, and it was all too easy to imagine them hovering nearby.
The soreness from her training with Botkin was beginning to make itself apparent. Her calves burned, and then her thighs, and then her back. It was cold wherever she was, and she was only wearing her nightdress. Her feet were freezing. She tried to shift and straighten, and once more she got a swift hard kick, then nothing.
She waited, and waited, focusing on the part of her that called the light the way Aleksander had taught her. If she had a chance to use her powers she would take it. She would be ready.
The minutes—hours?—stretched on. She had time to think, trying to focus her mind to distract her from the pain in her legs and arms and back. Mostly she just felt the soreness in her feet instead.
Had the Tsar found out what Aleksander and her had been planning? Had the Apparat? If the Tsar had found out, she wouldn't be alive for much longer. Her captors' treatment of her had been rough and she was terrified, but so far she wasn't permanently injured, or really injured at all.
Still, Ravka needed a sun summoner. And there were plenty of terrible things that they could do to her that wouldn't kill her, or destroy her ability to summon. She had no idea what awaited her, or how long she would be down here.
The one thing she knew is that she wouldn't give these people anything, if information was what they were after.
More time passed. “Come here,” said one of her captors, and she felt at least two people unhook her hands from whatever her shackles were attached to. She tried to stand up straight, and mostly managed it before she was being dragged and then abruptly dumped into a chair. It was such a relief to her legs and feet to sit down, and she tried not to let it show. Her hands were shoved behind her, over the back of the chair.
Abruptly the hood came off, and she squinted in the light of a candle. She struggled, trying to bring her hands together, but she still couldn't.
She didn't recognize the face behind it. The man's clothes, what she could see of them, were nondescript. She turned, trying to see the people on either side of her, but one of them shoved her head so she was once again facing forward. At least four people had brought her down here, so at least one was unaccounted for.
She tried to remember what Aleksander and Ivan had taught her. She calmed her breathing and looked at her surroundings as much as she could without moving her head.
“What is your intention in studying with the Apparat?” the man in front of her asked suddenly.
“To better serve the people of Ravka,” said Alina.
“True,” said a voice behind her.
So there was a Heartrender here. That made things more complicated for sure. She breathed even more deeply, hoping it wouldn't be noticeable.
She remembered how Aleksander had looked at her during her training and tugged on the tether. The other end of it was still silent and cold.
“What else?” asked the man in front of her. She had to focus.
“To honor the memory of the Saints,” Alina said.
“True,” said the Heartrender. It was. The Saints were martyred Grisha after all.
“Is that all?” asked her captor.
“Yes,” said Alina, imagining her heartbeat calm and steady.
“Lie,” said the man behind her.
She tried not to panic.
“Is that all?” asked her captor, leaning in close to her. The candle he held was hot against her face, and she yearned to pull its light toward her.
“Yes,” she hissed.
“Lie,” said the man behind her again.
A hard slap knocked her head to the side. She blinked away the sting of it and glared at her captor. “It's true,” she said.
“Hood her,” said her questioner. “Put her up against the wall again. We can wait.”
Her other captors did so, this time kicking her feet further apart.
Whatever relief she'd felt sitting in the chair quickly vanished. Her muscles remembered their strain easily.
So these people did know something about what she and Aleksander were planning. She wondered how they had found out.
The time dragged on, in pain and stiffness. She was thirsty too, and getting colder and colder.
An eternity or two later, her hands were unhooked again, and she found herself once more in the chair. There was a different man in front of her when her hood was removed. He smiled at her, and held the candle further away when she blinked at the sudden light.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She just glared at him.
He actually laughed. “Of course. Well, I'm sure there's just been some misunderstanding and once it gets cleared up, you can be back safely in your bed. Isn't that what you want, Miss Starkov?”
She continued glaring at him and didn't bother to respond. Ivan had warned her about this sort of thing too, although oh, it was so tempting to believe her questioner.
But no. He was still the enemy, no matter how much kindness he feigned.
“We can take care of this right now,” he continued, his voice still calm and soft. “We just need to know what your intent is in studying with the Apparat.”
“I told you,” Alina said. “To serve the people of Ravka and to honor the memory of the Saints.”
“Is that all?” asked the man.
“Yes,” said Alina.
“Lie,” said the heartrender.
Her questioner sighed. “I'm sorry. I tried, I really did,” he said. “Hood her again.”
And she was back where she had been once more.
She rested her forehead on the stones, the rough fabric of the hood at least protecting her from the worst of their jagged surface. Tugging on the tether got her nothing again. Perhaps Aleksander was asleep, although they had shared dreams before. Perhaps they had to be both asleep, or both awake.
The thought of her own bed was unbearably tempting. But she couldn't give in.
Another thought slowly occurred to her—was this a test? Was it a training exercise? Aleksander had warned her that training would be intense.
Either way, she couldn't tell these people anything.
The minutes or hours dragged by. Her head lolled against the wall.
“Are you ready to talk?” someone hissed behind her.
“No!” she said.
“Very well,” the person said, and there was silence again.
She stood. There was nothing in the world but the pain in her legs, and her dry mouth, and the cold floor under her feet. Nothing but mustiness and misery.
There were new footsteps. She flinched.
“It's done,” a familiar voice said. “Stand down. You are dismissed.”
There was a murmured chorus of “Yes, moi soverenyi,” and then footsteps moving away.
In the musty darkness of the hood, she blinked. Was she dreaming? Was Aleksander really there? Was it another test?
As if he had read her mind, she heard his voice next to her as the hood came off. “It's me, Alina. It's done. You're safe.” He freed her hands from their restraints and she attempted to stand up straight on her aching legs.
“I've got you. You're safe,” he said. She tried to take a step, stumbled, and he picked her up easily.
“I've got you,” he said again.
It was really him. His amplification hummed against her skin where her forehead rested against his neck as he cradled her. She saw Ivan next to him as well. When the Heartrender raised his hands, she flinched.
“Just checking on you, Miss Starkov,” Ivan said. “You're stable.”
She curled up against Aleksander as he carried her up several sets of stairs and through unfamiliar passageways until they emerged outside the door of the Vezda suite, coming through a door she had assumed was a linen closet. Ivan stayed outside, but Aleksander carried her into the suite and laid her down on her bed.
“You did well,” he said.
“That was—they were—yours?” Alina asked, still tense and feeling the phantom pain of the shackles on her hands. Her exhaustion warred with her fear of more people breaking into her room in the middle of the night.
“They were,” Aleksander said. “They were oprichniki, specifically trained for this work.”
“Including the Heartrender?” Alina asked.
“Yes,” said Aleksander.
“Ah,” said Alina.
“No one will disturb you the rest of the night, lyubimaya,” said Aleksander. “Or morning, I should say. No one will come in until you open the door. You can have breakfast when you're ready for it.” He walked toward the door of the suite.
“Can you stay?” asked Alina, hating how small her voice was. Maybe she shouldn't ask. She was the one who had chosen to train as a spy after all. She still didn't regret it, but she was sore and exhausted at the moment.
“Yes,” said Aleksander. “Let me just tell Ivan.”
Alina half sat up as the door opened, then lay back down after it closed and Aleksander was still the only one in the room. He took off his boots, kefta, and doublet, and lay down beside her wearing his tunic and pants.
She'd had him in this bed wearing nothing at all, but that wasn't what she wanted tonight. She snuggled close into his chest and let him hold her. He pulled the blankets around them both. She breathed in his winter forest scent and closed her eyes.
*
Alina woke up with her back to Aleksander's chest and his arms still around her. He woke up quickly once she moved.
“Ivan and I will meet with you in my study once you've had breakfast, Alinochka,” he said. He got dressed and left the room.
True to Aleksander's word, Genya only came in once Alina had stuck her head out of the Vezda suite doors. It was late morning already, but Genya didn't say anything about that, or about how dirty her feet and her nightgown's hem were. Alina suspected that Genya was also involved in espionage—a Tailor's skills would be immensely useful for disguises and she was regularly in the Grand Palace, after all. Alina didn't ask, though. What she didn't know she couldn't give away. It wasn't lost on her either that she had barely seen the faces of the four oprichniki last night and didn't know their names, and she didn't know the people who had assisted in the other training exercises, either.
This was isolating work, but she had known it would be.
When she was finished with breakfast, she found Aleksander behind his desk in his study, and Ivan sitting by him. She sat down across from them, wondering what they would have to say.
“You resisted interrogation for four hours last night,” Aleksander said without preamble.
“It was four hours?” asked Alina. She could have sworn it had been much longer.
“It was,” Aleksander said. “You did very well. But it was only four hours.”
“Everyone has a breaking point, Miss Starkov,” said Ivan. “All spies must know this. We didn't find yours last night, but given enough time and perhaps the right circumstances, we would have.”
Alina nodded. It was sobering to think about. “You had a heartrender as a part of this exercise. Do you think the Apparat would as well?”
“It is best to assume he could at any time,” said Ivan.
“All this being said, we believe you're ready for your mission with the Apparat,” Aleksander said. “If you agree, you'll have the rest of the day and tomorrow to rest and prepare, and then you'll go to the Grand Palace.”
It was so soon, but also felt a long time in coming. “Yes,” Alina said. “I'm ready.”
*
Alina didn't face questioning at the Grand Palace. What she did face was a lot of prayers at all hours of the day, and monastic-style living quarters that were still somehow better than what she'd had in the First Army. She ached for Aleksander, and sometimes he would find her in her dreams and give her all the pleasure he couldn't in person in the waking world.
After the first procession and food distribution had gone so well, the Apparat was eager to do more. Alina was genuinely glad to participate. She could materially help people and be visible as the Sun Saint. Along the route, she saw shrines that people had created. Although at first they showed a Saint with blonde hair, now there were a couple that actually looked like her.
When she went out with the processions, she could see the greed in the Apparat's face when he looked her way. He must be thinking that she would be his key to even greater power. But she was planning quite the opposite.
She spent most of her time with the Apparat and his acolytes, and very little time with the Imperial Family. She did hear that the Imperial Family had tried their own distribution of alms, riding through the streets of Os Alta in their gilded carriages. It...hadn't gone well. There were too many who had lost spouses or children in the Tsar's wars. The people had accepted the Tsar's gifts sullenly, but a riot had nearly broken out, ending the procession prematurely.
Alina had been worried about reprisals when she heard this, but there was soon something else to occupy the Grand Palace's attention—the Tsar's failing health. The Apparat brought her in to pray for him.
The Tsar's skin was greyish and he looked like he was right at death's door. Even so, he stared at her like he was thinking how best to use her. She would have called her light and burnt him to a crisp right then and there, but she had listened to what Genya had said—and not said—and would leave him for the Tailor.
Aleksander had said that there were other things in motion that she wouldn't know about yet. While Alina couldn't be sure, she guessed this was one of them.
Instead, she thought of Ivan's training and called a gentle veil of light while she prayed out loud, in the most pious voice possible, that the saints would see his heart and reward him as he so richly deserved. She must have been really convincing, because even the Tsaritsa thanked her afterwards.
With the Tsar incapacitated, the Apparat was de facto ruling in his stead. After the first couple days of the Tsar's illness, the Imperial family had gone to an estate outside Os Alta for fear of contagion. Alina didn't mind.
A few days later, the Apparat found her on the way to the chapel for the noonday prayers, looking agitated. Whatever he wanted to say, he must have wanted to say in private, because the Priestguard were elsewhere. Then again, he was rarely attended by them in his own sacred spaces in the Palace.
“The Tsar is dead!” the Apparate exclaimed. “The Saints have spoken, supporting my rule of Ravka. You and I will lead a procession through the streets to communicate this to the people."
Alina smiled and took a step backward, tugging on the tether. Aleksander. Get to the Grand Palace. Now. The Tsar is dead. She trusted that he had indeed heard her.
“Yes, the Saints have spoken,” she said, bringing her hands together in a gesture of prayer. “And they are powerful to smite the unworthy.” She called the sun then, as it streamed through the stained glass windows of the hallway leading to the chapel. She summoned as much light as she could, focusing its heat onto the Apparat. He burned away to ash almost before he could scream.
There was a presence in the tether, and Alina felt Aleksander’s hand on her shoulder. The Apparat is dead as well, she sent to him through the tether. My love, come to the steps of the Grand Palace.
Alina ran to the chapel, calling a bit of light around herself for the effect. She had cultivated allies among the acolytes, and they all tended to get there early for the daily prayer sessions. “The Tsar is dead! The Apparat is dead!” she called. “The Saints have smote them both!”
There was silence. Alina braced herself and said a prayer herself to the generations of long-dead Grisha, that those of her time would have a chance to know justice.
Another moment, and then—”Sol Koroleva!” one of the Acolytes called. “Sol Koroleva!” another shouted, and then it was a chorus, taken up by those Acolytes who had newly arrived in the chapel.
“Ring the bells!” said Alina. “We'll bring our noonday prayers to the Grand Plaza of Os Alta!”
She started walking that way herself, keeping the light around her. She could use it as a shield if she needed to.
The bells rang out, the peals that announced the birth or death of a monarch, or a coronation. The acolytes surrounded her, and then Genya joined the procession from an adjoining hallway. Alina smiled at her but said nothing.
They left the Grand Place through the same doors they used for the almsgiving processions. One of the acolytes began the noonday hymn and everyone joined in, including Alina.
The bells of Sankt Grigori's chapel just outside the palace grounds started ringing, and peals from several other shrines drifted over on the wind.
Just as Alina reached the bottom step and the wide processional way that led into Os Alta, Aleksander and a small contingent of Grisha and oprichniki joined her. “They're with me,” Alina said to the acolytes, extending her light so it sparkled over all of the Little Palace contingent, including Genya.
The group walked slowly through the streets, with more and more people joining them as they went. They stopped at one end of the Grand Plaza, where there was an elevated area used for speeches and performances. The plaza was already filling up with people as well, coming out to see what the commotion was about.
Alina had prepared for this. “People of Ravka! People of Os Alta!” she called out, and a Squaller amplified her voice across the plaza. “The Saints have spoken and smote the unworthy! The Tsar and the Apparat are dead!” There was silence at this, then a murmur of confused voices, and then someone called out “Sol Koroleva! Crown the Sun Saint!”
Someday she would ask Aleksander if he had been responsible for that person saying that. Someday soon. But it hardly mattered as the whole plaza took up the chant.
“Sol Koroleva! Sol Koroleva!” resounded off the buildings and the flagstones.
As she had during her demonstration at the Winter Fete, Alina clasped her hands over her heart, calling a globe of light, then opened her arms outward and extended them as if she was embracing the crowd. This time, the light centered over her and Aleksander, who was now standing at her side.
The crowd quieted at her gesture, and she took Aleksander's hand. “The sun illuminates the shadows, and the shadows provide respite from the heat.” Once more, her voice was transmitted by the Squaller. “By the grace of the Making at the Heart of the World, I will rule as your Sun Saint, and beside me will be my companion and consort, my beloved, the Starless Saint.”
There were more cheers from the crowd, just as loud as for her alone, and Alina turned to Aleksander. He was looking at her with awe in his eyes as he had at the Winter Fete. She took both his hands, and gentle swirls of shadow played with the light around her.
She thought of what he’d said at her presentation to a now-dead Tsar. She’d come so far since then. Through the tether she said, We will change the future, starting now.