Meant to Be My Balance

Chapter 6

I'D MADE A terrible, terrible mistake.

The Darkling and I stayed poised on the throne, watching the Fjerdan delegation stick to their own in a corner of the room, The druskelle, on the other hand, seemed intent to stir up mischief. They wandered near the exit, counting the escape routes, and stuck together.

"Why did you let them stay?" I asked.

The Darkling raised a dark eyebrow. "Must I continue repeating myself?"

I huffed, "Fine," taking a sip of a sparkling drink that the servants had brought. It was golden and fizzy, unfamiliar, but it eased my nerves. Only a few more hours.

A few councilors stepped up, asking the Darkling about budgets and servant rebellions. I said a few words of agreement, then they left and the next one appeared.

I cast the Darkling a nervous eye.

"Yes, Alina?"

How did he do that? I hadn't said a word.

"I—I need to go to the bathroom."

The Darkling sighed, but he didn't look upset. "Take the oprichnik with you."

I stood. "Yes, I'm sure they'll love to watch me piss."

He shook his head, dark hair glinting in the golden candlelight.

Naturally, I didn't take the oprichnik. I was the sun summoner. If the Darkling couldn't believe I could handle a trip to the bathroom, what was the point of being equals?

I'd only made it out the door into the silent halls when I felt the whip circle around my waist, binding my hands together. I couldn't use the Cut.

Everything went dark, the lights extinguished, and I tried to scream but a hand clamped over my mouth. "Drusje."

I clamped my teeth against his hand, catching the druskelle off guard. He didn't expect a First Army grunt. I used the opportunity to ram my shoulder into his, but the man was built like a rock, and nothing I did mattered. More blue eyes appeared, pinning me down against the floor until my body was so numb from fighting I couldn't even move my wrist.

I would be burned at the stake—if I even got that far. It was a fitting end for a sun summoner, a saint... an imposter. Maybe there really were saints, albeit saints with a cruel sense of justice.

Thick chains of metals rattled near the ground, and I could feel them just about to click together, when time itself seemed to stop. The shackles clattered to the ground and a clap resounded through the room like thunder. I didn't hesitate, getting to my feet, grateful for any distraction.

But I was stumbling through the dark. Shadows slithered across the empty room, but there wasn't a sound in the air, nothing but footsteps here and there.

Then, the sound, clear and uncomfortably familiar, of a sheath of darkness slicing through the air and the thump of half a body falling to the ground.

A hand clasped around my wrist, calloused and cool. "Summon."

"I can't, my hands—"

His grip grew tighter. "Call the light, Alina. Now."

And when I squeezed my eyes shut, it was there. My hands were still bound, but I could seek the light and it sought me in return. The room burst into golden light, searing and hot.

Blood stained every inch of the floor, and somehow in the hassle, it had ruined my elegant black dress. Even my mouth tasted like blood.

"Aleksander..." I whispered, my eyes locked on the carnage. I looked up at him, and something burned in his gray eyes, deep as anger, bloodthirsty.