Meant to Be My Balance

Chapter 17

I WOKE TO a sharp pain in my nose, my throat, and Aleksander's gray eyes looking through me.

"What—?" I pressed the back of my hand against my nose.

"The Apparat poisoned you. Our Healer spent the night taking out every last speck of powder." I couldn't read his voice... it was an unfamiliar feeling, one that unnerved me.

"The white dust..."

"Precisely, Alina."

I cleared my throat, trying to sit up in the dimly lit tent. "And the Apparat? Did we get him?"

Aleksander didn't even look at me—it was answer enough.

"I'm sorry, I tried to use the Cut but—"

He scoffed. "You should be sorry."

The words stung more than I would've thought. He continued.

"You were the strongest woman on the face of the earth a few months ago. I let you rest, but your rest is up." He stood, eyes stony. "I'm sending you back to the Little Palace to train with Baghra and Botkin. I'm taking care of the Soldat Sol myself."

"Aleksander."

"It will be a loss, I'm sure of it. The opportunity to present a united front to the nobles and further our threats will be diminished. But I'm not letting a defenseless queen travel across the country."

"I"m not defenseless!"

"Aren't you?" His eyes burned. "You lost against Fjerdans, against a priest, Alina. Do you know how shameful that is?"

I felt tears under my eyes, but I didn't let them go free. My amplifiers thrummed at my neck, at my wrist. I was vaguely aware that my skin was golden.

"Do you know what I think it is?" His voice rose. "You've been refusing yourself what you want, what your heart desires, and it has created a barrier between you and the making at the heart of the world."

"Refusing myself of what, Aleksander?" I dared.

He turned, black hair unkept, jaw clenched. "Of me, Alina."

"You really think I'm weak?" I challenged. "That I'm useless? Defenseless?" I took a step closer with each word. "You think I'm holding back because I feel something for you? Do you know what I feel for you, Aleksander? Hate." I clenched my hands together and felt the room explode into light. The Darkling shielded his eyes, but I couldn't stop, bringing a searing heat into the room. "I hate you. I hate you for hurting Mal, I hate you for winning, I hate you for—I hate you for being right."

What was he right about? The way I felt for him? The way I wanted him right now, just as much as I had wanted him after long meetings with nobles when I returned to my rooms and saw his illusion? The way I told myself I hated him, but life breathed into me at his touch? The way he told me there would be no one like us, no equal, no one who understood?

Everything, I realized, tears streaming down my face. The room grew brighter, and in the light, I saw the faces of my friends, people I loved. But they were illusions. When I closed my eyes, darkness engulfed me, and all I could hear was the sound of Aleksander's voice.

"Alina, stop." Gentle, so unlike his harsh words a few moments ago.

"I can't," I whispered, my entire body feeling like the very light I manipulated. I could see it now. Are we not like all things? The way the room was made of light made of light made of light, of how even the Darkling's hand on mine felt like it was part of something greater, the mere surface of an ocean.

"Aleksander, help me," I whispered, my mind racing as I became acutely aware of everything—of the way the bees buzzed a few feet away, the flap of the tent, the murmur of a few voices growing into screams in my ears.

I felt cool fingers against my hands, my arms, my neck. They did nothing, my mind was too far gone. Then I felt him on my lips, and it was like an anchor, pulling me back home, into his arms. The heat faded, the darkness like ice against a burn.

I was plunged into black—or maybe it had simply been so bright before that my eyes struggled to adjust.

"Aleksander," I choked out, and it was only then that I realized I was sobbing as his arms went around me—comforting. Knowing. "It hurts, everything hurts."

"Only a few more minutes, Alina. Feel your feet against the ground. Feel the breeze in your hair. You're going to be okay." He held my face between his palms, and although I couldn't see him in the dark, I thought I could make out his sharp jawline, his furrowed black brows.

He told me to focus on the ground, on the breeze, but the only thing I could grasp for was Aleksander—his arms, his kefta beneath my fingers, his lips against my forehead as he whispered me advice that went in one ear and out the other.

"What did you see, Alina?"

"Everything," I whispered, still in his arms. Slowly, the black faded and I could make out the edges of the room, the Darkling's silver eyes, his pale skin. It grew brighter and brighter, until my vision finally returned, along with a throbbing headache.

"Sit," he said, finally letting go of me. I made my way to the bed—his bed—and let myself sink into the comforter, watching Aleksander pour kvas into a small glass.

"The first time it happened to me, I was twenty-five. It had been my first glimpse of merzost, of the smallest of Small Science. I'd read Morozova's journals—I saw every particle of the planet, Alina, and it was mine to control." He took a long sip. "But in seconds, the power turned into torture, as I'm sure you experienced."

"That... that was merzost."

He shook his head. "Merzost is creation—abomination. It is the corruption of the making at the heart of the world. What we see is the making at the heart of the world."

"Can anyone do that?" I thought back to the Istorii Sankt'ya, and the miracle-performing Saints. Had their miracles been a manipulation of the smallest of sciences?

"There have been tales," the Darkling said, reading my mind. "But those who could are dead—or somewhere close to it." He smiled darkly. "The two of us are the only ones I know of with this gift."

"It's not a gift," I said, exhaustion overtaking me. I laid back on the bed, my mind foggy. "It's a curse. What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men."

"You've been studying. If only you trained as often."

I threw a pillow at him, and he smirked, but his smile softened as he saw me shift in the bed, my body feeling more like a rock.

"Teach me," I said softly. "Teach me how to use it. Teach me how to—how to protect myself, how to do all this, how to... how to be me." My words sounded foggy to my own ears.

My eyes had already closed when the Darkling came to my bedside, his fingers stroking my hair, tucking it behind my ears. "Of course, Alina."

Had he felt this way too? This well of loneliness—of infinite power that he didn't want? Did he have to learn his love for power or was he born with it?

I felt a deep sadness for the little boy with inky black hair whose childhood was stolen from him by the threat of his powers and the loss of his childhood? Did they try to cut him open in Shu Han? Burn him in Fjerda? Did he find safety here in Ravka where kings used him for power and threw him in prisons for witchcraft.

I closed my eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.

Every day, I am so, so grateful to every person who's stuck along as the story progresses. I'm so happy that people are happy by this – although how you guys still like it honestly confuses me. Thank you to all of you, especially my commenters. Posting an update and watching my email notifications is the best feeling in the world. 

BTW, I'm curious: Book Darkling vs Show Darkling