Meant to Be My Balance

Chapter 50

"I am doing everything in my power to get you home safe."

Aleksander had made that promise hours ago, and I had no doubt he was fulfilling it, but right now, I was more concerned with the tiny gap I'd found in the floor, a space between the glass and the ground. It couldn't have been more than a centimeter wide, but if I started using a micro-Cut against the edge of the glass, I could chip away at it through the side that wasn't Grisha-proof.

But a micro-Cut was difficult business. Aleksander had begun teaching me about precision and control, how to use the blade like you would a real knife, how to slash out at a target instead of in a general direction. But this feat would be near impossible.

My stomach ached with hunger, but I ignored it and leaned down, drawing on my powers until a tiny golden crescent formed, hovering between my index finger and thumb. I went straight for the opening—too quickly. The blade flew out of my control, slicing against my thumb. I let out a wince as the pain tingled up my palm, bleeding onto my clothes. I tore off a piece of my shirt and quickly wrapped it around my bleeding thumb. So maybe I had been too quick.

This time, I was slow and careful. I used the edge of the cell, letting the Cut travel millimeter by millimeter so carefully, I was sweating by the end of it.

I took a break, absently rubbing at my unfettered wrist and staring at my progress. If this was ordinary glass, I could Cut through it in seconds and be out. Control, precision, minuteness, was far more difficult.

The door thumped open, and I leaped away from my spot by the glass just in time. Rasmus stood on the other side, looking at me as best as he could through his squinting eyes.

In his hands was a tray of food. "If you're waiting for your Dark Prince to come save you..." he said, his breath fogging up against the glass, "then you should know—I am too."

A trap for the King of Ravka. And what better bait than his Queen?

I paid close attention to how he would give me the food, how he would open the cell. But in that moment, a woosh sounded from above, and a thick green haze filled up the room. It only took seconds for everything to go black.

***

The tray was in front of me when I woke up. My eyes flitted nervously to the few inches of progress I had made on the wall. It was still intact, unnoticed.

I pushed myself up and got back to work.

***

ALEKSANDER'S POV

We were nearing the border of Fjerda. I had tried my best to avoid the two otkazat'sya that Alina thought so highly of, but it was well-past the time to be introducing our plans for the Ice Court.

There was only one location secure enough for the Sun Summoner—guarded against Grisha and yet built on their very bones.

It had been a long time since I last stepped foot in Fjerda, let alone the Ice Court. The thick sheets of ice, the little huts, the pyres that still stood starkly against blankets of white—they made me want to burn this country to the ground.

I stood in the larger tent, waiting for the boys. They arrived, one by one, the tracker with anger fierce in his eyes and the Lantsov with the lightness he always carried. I once wondered how he could smile so easily, but of course, if born with a silver spoon in your mouth, who wouldn't smile?

"Alina is awake, and according to my spies, she'll be somewhere within the Ice Court. Unfortunately, that means she could be anywhere from the prisons to the castle, and I'm not sure which one it is." I gestured to the map in front of me. "Unless, tracker, you would like to share some insight on your abilities?"

"You mean finding Alina?"

I leveled a cool stare at him. "What else could I possibly be referring to?"

The tracker leaned forward, arms crossed over his chest. Far too prideful, used to getting everything his way. Even the Lantsov prince had more humility. "I'd assume you're used to being ignored by her. After all, she has some common sense, being a queen and all."

"Yes," I said, leaning back, filling the room with my arrogance, my power. A useful tool, one I had used far more often before Alina. With a smirk, I said, "She never failed in any of her responsibilities as a queen."

The tracker's entire face seemed to turn red, and he stepped forward as if he had any power at all against me, but the sobachka was quick to intervene, ever the mediator. Alina and him had that in common.

"Easy, easy. Back to the conversation, which is about helping Alina, however she needs us." His eyes locked with the tracker's. "Although... I have been curious, Mal. You found Alina pretty quickly after her escape from the Little Palace." Noting my clenched fists, Lantsov quickly backtracked, "Does this have to do with your knack for finding the amplifiers?"

The tracker rubbed the side of his head. "Alina and I've always been like that. We're both orphans, we grew up together—"

"That's not it," I said, narrowing my eyes. Any two people could grow up together; it didn't give them the tracker's abilities. I pushed the topic away for another day. "Then I'll be taking the diplomat approach."

"You? A diplomat?" The sobachka laughed.

"I have kneeled before false kings before," I said pointedly. "I will do it again. For Alina, I will do anything."

Before they could react to my slip-up, I moved onto the maps of the Ice Court, the sectors they would be responsible for searching, the roles they would have to play. The sobachka, with his fair features and blonde hair, would be one of our stronger allies.

I dismissed the boys when the sun sank past the horizon, and retired to my own tent. Immediately, I reached out for the tether, but stopped myself. The last thing Alina needed right now was me distracting her. No matter what she said, wanting made one weak, distracted, nervous. That was why I, King of Ravka, was on my way to the Ice Court rather than in the palace where I should have been ruling.

Fjerda had been killing my people for centuries, burning them, hunting them, torturing them. Women. Children. I had planned how to exact revenge: by holding them captive with the same power they feared so much.

Alina complicated things. Her mercy, while beautiful, was dangerous. I had planned around it, hoping by the time the sobachka was dead, she would know the threat Fjerda posed and the way our Grisha were treated. If I had to pretend at peace for seventy years, so be it.

I had tried my best. Telling her when she was distracted with the wedding. Adding the sobachka's life to the stakes of this deal. But Fjerda had other plans, and I had underestimated how kind Alina truly was, even to Fjerdans. It was a mistake I wouldn't make again.

I endured generations of Fjerda enslaving and murdering Grisha. But I could not endure this.

Fjerda would pay with blood. 

I lied, there's so much Aleksander POV...