DARKNESS ABIDES.

Equinox….

The last place Alina wanted to be was sitting on the throne and listening to the requests of those that came to entreat their rulers. The desire to rule had never been hers, even when Nikolai had suggested a marriage alliance. Instead, Alina's focus had been on the Second Army, or rather what had been left of it.

A lot of good that had done her.

Her fingers grasped the podstakannik that held her tea to bring it to her lips. When one of her maids had appeared that morning to complete the task of preparing the Tsaritsa for court, Alina had told the woman to leave her be. Perhaps she should've feared for the woman if she was questioned as to why she hadn't completed her morning responsibility, but Alina had the safety of too many already weighing her down. It was for the wellbeing of her friends and the Grisha that had followed her that she bore the twin bands on her left hand: one of marriage and the other of state. The figurative weight of them both was perhaps more than she anticipated.

Alina set aside her tea and crossed to the one of the windows that lined the far wall of her apartments. The rooms had been heavily redecorated after the fall of the Lantsovs. It was still a bit disarming to think that Tatiana Lantsov had once commanded these rooms, even if they looked nothing like how they'd been during her tenure.

Alina worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered her afternoon. A walk to the Little Palace might do her some good, or perhaps a ride. She turned as the door to her bedchamber opened, half expecting her maid. Instead she felt her mood sour significally at the figure who stood in the doorframe.

❝ i'm no fool, ❞ he continues, the jesting now dropped. ❝ i know you didn't enter into this with any consideration for me, or for us. you did it for the people. for our grisha. and for that, i'm grateful. ❞ idle steps lead him along the wall, where he admires the new décor he'd ordered into the palace. less gaudy, more elegant, he believes. accents of black and gold. of he, and of she. ❝ so please, come down with me for them. it'll do no good for your image to stay cooped up in here... and i don't want them thinking i've forced you to stay cooped up. ❞

he had long decided to stay matter-of-fact with her. alina knows him too well now, has seen the extent of all his trickery and cunning words, to be manipulated by him ever again. part of him thinks the idea of keeping her as a beautiful bird in his black iron cage would be quite lovely. but her will is free now, despite the bands on her hand. she flies out of his reach, and all he can do is watch. perhaps, one day, she will fly to him as she once had.

❝ you're wrong! ❞ alina snaps - falling into the trap that their usual back-and-forth dance had laid out for her. usually, their tether would bear witness to his anger, not her own. and yet now she was the one whose fury lit her in incandescent shades, her chest rising and falling unevenly, cheeks flushed a furious red. ❝ if ravka was meant to fall, it would have done so hundreds of years ago - when you made the fold. ❞

steady eyes sweep her, drinking in the sight of her fury. hatred, he thinks, is far less a curse than indifference. her eyes are on him right now, and he will savor each moment that they are.

even if her persistent arrogance and naivety strike the match of his own angry flame. with a heavy inhale and stiffening shoulders, aleksander attempts to keep his own temper in check, lest he succumb to his own violence and waste this opportunity to reason with her.

one of many weights dislodges itself from a particularly painful spot in his mind, allowing a semblance of control over the situation— or rather, allowing him to pretend he was in the conversation. life was nothing but one bluff after another, of course. just as walking into the little palace and attempting to make off with alina took an incredible amount of... nerve. when there's a large sum of money on the line, it didn't hurt to try. he manages to relax somewhat, though he retains an unreadable expression.

though nothing appears to change in aleksander's demeanor at that final comment, the atmosphere around them does shift, just enough to be perceptible to the senses. it's as though the air has become heavier. thicker. the natural shadows that flicker across the walls and floor by candlelight seem to deepen within themselves, their black hues becoming somehow even darker, like the unending void of a starless sky. yet, at the same time, the void shadows seem to press against the empty space of the room around both men. looming. waiting.

❝ i assure you, i will be eliminating what needs dealt away with before they become obstacles. so, mister brekker, choose your words carefully from now on, ❞ aleksander says quietly, and then in a tone that suggests warning rather than courtesy, he adds, ❝ please. ❞

i stood there watching dark spirals unfurl around her, trying to comprehend what i was seeing. searching baghra's strange features, i saw the explanation clearly written there. i saw the ghost of what must have once been a beautiful woman who gave birth to a beautiful son.