You Must Know The Darkness To Appreciate The Light

🔆🌙 Chapter 12 🔆🌙

The next morning I was packing my bags as the Darkling stood putting his kefta on. We were ignoring each other, or at least I was and assumed he was too. He clasped the silver buttons at his collar, smoothed his hair back and was out of the tent without a word to me, which is how it had been since last night after his jokes settled down.

I was still upset about being sent back to Os Alta after all my work to get here, and frankly neither of us had anything to say so we didn't, leaving us in uncomfortable silence all night and morning.

I threw what clothes I had brought, except for the kefta, into my knapsack and went outside to find something for breakfast. The warm sun was bright on my face and I could reach out and twist it around my fingers, now that everyone here knew who I was. I made my way to the tent that served as a mess hall, past the various Grisha, First Army and Oprichniki tents. Tima stood outside, talking to a group of other soldiers, I waved and he gave me a wink as I continued on.

I walked past the war room tent, inside I could barely make out the sound of the Darkling conducting business.

"Get this to her immediately."

"Yes, sir. Right away."

A Squaller emerged from the tent and slammed into me, sending his letters marked with the Darkling's black wax seal flying and the both of us to the ground. "I'm so sorry, Miss Starkov, excuse me-"

I held up my hand and managed to stand up, brushing the dirt of my kefta that already muddy from yesterday. "You're okay, Petrov." I picked up the stack of scattered letters and handed it to Petrov, I couldn't see who the recipient was, just that that was written in the Darkling's elegant scroll. "Just watch where you're going next time." He bowed and scampered on his way, past Tima who was obviously trying not to laugh.

I rolled my eyes and finally made it to the food tent. The cooks were just cleaning up from breakfast, but managed to get a plate of slighlty rubbery scrambled eggs and cold sausages for me. Food here was nothing like the Palace, but certainly better than the First Army camps like Kribirsk, much better than watery gruel or some other garbage that was excused as food for the new recruits.

I thanked the cooks and dashed out of the tent, back through camp, past the various tents and groups of meandering soldiers. The War Room tent was now deserted, the occupants standing near where horses were tethered at the edge of camp. Where are they going? I thought with a scowl as I watched the Darkling, Turgenev, Ivan, and a swarm of other Grisha mount their steeds.

"What's got you looking so dismal?"

I yelped and dropped my plate, swinging around to see Tima next to me, as innocent as could be.

"Tima, what the hell! You scared me!"

His boyish features split into a wide grin. "Sorry. Not really, that was funny. But sorry about your food. Was that the last of it?"

I sighed and nodded, he shrugged. "Oh well, it's not like you're missing much. I swear, do they use eggs or carriage wheels? They're so chewy. And the sausage, don't even get me started on that. Do they know you're supposed to take the bones out before you eat it? It's so gross-"

"Tima."

"Yeah?"

"You're rambling again."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. I just get excited and don't realize how much I'm talking. Anyways, sorry about your food. I've got some biscuits here, if you want them. They're kinda dry, but they arent as bad as the mess hall food-"

"Tima!"

"Yes?"

"You're still talking. Give me the biscuits and be quiet."