Cross the Seas

|Chapter 2| - Zoya

The halls of the Little Palace felt perfectly comfortable now, but not the sort of familiar that it had been when Zoya had just arrived in Os Alta. Then, it had been a comfort, a home, more so than that in Novokribirsk, where she came from. After her however eventful early life, the Palace felt like an ordinary, if such a thing existed in her life ever, place, a safe haven for Grisha to be themselves. Now, it was her responsibility, now she was in the position to lead the Second Army. 

The position where he had been, she thought. 

She always kept her duties first, regardless of the stylish brat others made her to seem like. To them, Zoya Nazyalensky was born in rich furs and furnished like the prick of a princess she was, but she totally had come to not care now, knowing for herself who she was, however bitter or ruthless the people might imagine her to be. 

The Palace was reconstructed now, the dome restored and the walls remade. The hope of the Second Army had crushed with it when the nichevo'ya had attacked and wreaked burning chaos to her home, but she could see how Grisha would now see it safe after the destruction the civil war had imposed upon them. 

The reflectors had been removed, for there was no Sun Summoner who could use them. No, now there was only Alina Starkov, running Keramzin like a peaceful spirit, away from the public eye. But there were Sun Summoners, the remainder of the Soldat Sol, who had been made Grisha and harnessed the abilities Alina once had. They were the ones who had erased the Shadow Fold from its dreadful and intimidating existence, but Zoya would endorse none other than Alina to have defeated the Darkling. Alina, regardless of her horrible taste in men and jewelry, was a warrior and being one herself, Zoya had respect for her friend, though she would never admit that she was her friend. Alina might have hated her powers so much and seen them has a curse, driving her through the cruelty and pain she was subjected to, but them being snatched away wasn't essentially a good thing. 

But I don't have to be Grisha to wield Grisha steel, was what she had said when she had stabbed the Darkling. Sun Summoner or not, Zoya would regard her no different than a Grisha, because being Grisha was something way deeper than having abilities the others might call witchcraft. Being Grisha was living in this society, regarded as something not human. Being Grisha was having the insight to find comfort in a place where you were only a soldier. Being Grisha was having the strength to live a life you didn't want to have. 

She traversed down the hallway, her kefta swishing with the cold winds that the open windows allowed. Stepping out to the garden, if that's what she could call the frozen foliage that furrowed the cold soil, the cold grew even further. Although a Squaller like her could easily drive this monstrous weather away for herself with a swish of hand, she didn't. The calm of the Little Palace, however, didn't hold much in her head, seeing the chaos and movement that always seemed to adorn the Grand Palace. 

The courtroom was obviously bustling with servants carrying food, clothes and other items elsewhere, because Nikolai wasn't there. She wouldn't be carried away with the debauch of calling the former prince as the Imperial Highness, and all the other glorifying titles. She respected the king alright, but after almost a year of working together with him, it didn't fit right on her sharp tongue. Besides, he liked it that way. Empty as the room might be, the throne always had its unmistakeable shine that never missed her eyes. The crest of the nation was glinting behind the polished and decorated seat, now added with Alina's sun to it. Definitely, a lot had changed in Ravka now. 

She moved towards the war room with no glances to spare. Servants lowered their heads as a short bow, knowing that she didn't like to go along with the debauch. No, she was steel - unyielding and efficient. She was a general now, not just a powerful Grisha.