The True Saint

Otkazat'sya

        I nod, but my face becomes bitter. "I hate the term Otkazat'sya. It is used for anyone that isn't Grisha, but it was also what I was called my entire life. Abandoned, unwanted, orphan. I heard it walking down the streets of Karamzin or when I was being chased out of stores for stealing bread to eat that day. 'The Otkazat'sya girl grew up without parents to teach her how to behave. That's why she is unpoised. Even Ana Kuya can't fix her.' I just bit my tongue and moved along."

        "That was not how I meant the word to sound."

        "I know, sorry. It's just that the word reminded me of the hurt that I've buried in my heart from being called abandoned and unwanted." I look down.

        "You are not unwanted," he tries to be comforting, but I know the truth of the matter.

        "Not now that I am the Sun Summoner, but you wouldn't have even looked in my direction if I was the weak first army cartographer." The Darkling doesn't respond because he knows it is true.

        The rest of the ride was silent. I'm not sure why it is so easy to share with him my feelings in the darkest, hidden part of my heart. He makes it feel easy. He just listened to what I had to say without interfering. Maybe it was the hurt in his eyes as he listened. The shared fact is that our pasts are better to be left behind us.

        The black carriage comes to a halt at the center of Os Alta. My eyes widen and sparkle when I look out the square, tinted window. There are flocks of people roaming around the farmers' market. Children are playing and running from table to table with their allotted coins. It is so lively and... normal. It makes me forget about my burden of being Ravka's Sol Koroleva.

        I fly out of the carriage without waiting for the Darkling. Like an excited kid, I wander across the market, ignoring the staring eyes of people that recognize me. A merchant woman looks at me and curtsies. Please, moya tsaritsa. Take what you'd like." She is selling loaves of bread. I pick out a soft loaf and take a few coins from my pocket. I don't exactly have my own money, so I obtained some from the darkling's kefta during the ride here. The vendor shakes her head and denies the money, but I insist and place it in her hands.

        "Bless you, Sankta Alina," she says before bowing her head.

        I visit a few more booths before the Darkling finally catches up. He seems slightly irritated that I took off without him, but my beaming face lightens his mood.

        "Where did you get those coins?" he asks with narrowed eyes.

        "I acquired them all on my own."

        "Is that why I am short ten vlachka?" My wide grin answers the question for him. We visit many other tables of fresh produce, jewelry, and swords. Somewhere along the way, I lose him again.

        I see a table with fresh, red apples. I walk through the crowds of wandering people and grab an apple on the top of the pile.

        "How much?" I ask the merchant.

        "I don't accept Shu currency girl, move along," he says in a gruff voice.

        In the corner of my eyes, I see strands of shadows grow closer to the table. "What did you just say to my wife?" the Darklings voice cuts through the crowd's murmurs. His tone is dark and cold. It makes me want to curl up and hide.

        The vendor cowers in fear. If I don't act now, he will be devoured by shadows. I take the apple, slam a bag of coins on the table, and shatter the tentacles of shadows with light emitted from my palms. The Darkling glares at me and stalks up to the booth. He snatches the bag of money and takes my arm. Before directing me away, he says, "Rats don't get money."