Cross the Seas

|Chapter 5| - Zoya

Zoya didn't know which was a more deranged decision — being on the same ship as His Imperial Highness or harboring a hidden fragment of this plan inside her twisted mind that that would, no doubt, land her in a place she would much rather not think of.

The voyage atop this vessel had started not so long ago. It had taken then nearly a day, by carriage and another one of Nikolai's zipping aircrafts to reach the True Sea's border, where a fleet was already waiting for them to depart. It was surprise enough to her that Sturmhond had opted to board a schooner than navigate the skies. Nevertheless, she was too drowsy to question if there was an aviating menace decked on this massive ship.

Only she, Nikolai, the twins and half a dozen First Army officials had joined this crew. Genya, David and the others had boarded other crafts with a similarly varied crew, consisting of Sturmhond's old allies and connections, their selected teams of Grisha and soldiers. Zoya wondered how many such missions Ravka had to accomplish, similarly involving the outline of her nation's powers like this.

She remembered what Liliyana told her the night before they parted ways at Os Alta. She had attempted her best to provide Liliyana with the resources the crown would provide Grisha guardians with, but she had sealed her fate by going back to Novokribirsk. She drenched everyday in remorse knowing if she could have one more day, week or maybe another month before she returned. It was the last Zoya knew of her aunt until her disassociating from land along with the entire town.

The firebird doesn't see what is around and what is not, what is with it and what is not. It only burns and soars.

She was annoyed and exhausted beyond the capabilities of a middle-aged cat, or perhaps just Baghra. Zoya could never know how that woman had managed to retain the patience and tolerance to last long with a corrupt son to endanger her, cursing herself for the tall and arrogant mistake, and people to watch everyday, warding herself to entrust none with her secrets, the truth if her life, and her fatigue draining the life out of her all these centuries, with still some boisterous kids to train. Zoya could reflect upon why she had chosen that flaming hellish tavern as dwelling.

With a sigh, she looked down the hallway where her quarters were, moving forward without realizing in the process. She stepped and unlocked the door, still battling her urge to sleep with the urge to acquire reports and check the inconsistencies. And of course she couldn't shut her drooping eyelids so satisfactorily when there was a wisp of that most inconvenient, undying swine on this ship.

Even after some years of motionlessness after the Civil War, the demon within the king had taken the liberty to unleash itself a few times, leading him to flee, or rather ravage, the guards and free itself. Genya and David had been working on a cure, but it was just another tendril of merzost in the end. Even so, this was Ravka and all this country did, despite everything, was try. Still, this was another distress for General Nazyalensky to manage with her vigilant stare and iron hand.

She sat on the cream-white sheets laid out seamlessly, no doubt by Nikolai's special orders. The room was also of beneficial size and decor, with room for storage and things adorning each fine-wooden table for her. The door clicked open and she glanced at the privateer of this vessel striding with a grin as smooth as his walk.

"How is the most pleasing woman in Ravka faring?" he questioned wryly. She had grown used to the humor and innuendoes of the Ravkan crown, pardoning his attempts to start conflict and sometimes supplying wittier phrases in response that astounded her serious self.

"Not as good as sleep would render her, but she receives conversation instead," she replied, getting up to pick up a bottle of kvas from her closet, peeking to see his grin widen. She grabbed the bottle and poured a glass for either of them.