YELENA HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING that night. There were words that Grisha who fled the Little Palace were camping outside the dacha, waiting to see the Summoners but no matter how quiet she tried to be when sneaking out, there was always a guard or soldier around the corner.
"It's dangerous," Mal told her for the third time that night.
"Oretsev is right," Nikolai followed. "Grisha or not, their first loyalty should have been to the King. They left their posts. Technically, they're deserters."
"Yeah? Then what am I? What are we?" Yelena asked, looking at Mal and Alina with furious eyes. "We fled Ravka a few months ago if you don't recall that part even if it was to protect people and ourselves, we left." Then she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down and looked at the prince. "That doesn't make them traitors. You don't know what they've been through after what the Darkling did in Novokribirsk, what your father put them through." Nikolai's eyes were glued to the floor now. "Let me talk to them."
"Out of question." the prince said as he straightened his back and shook his head. "I get were you come from Yelena, but there might be spies working for the Darkling. It's not safe–"
"And it won't be. Not here, not outside and not in the Little Palace." she fired back. "Nikolai, please." Yelena turned her head slightly to the side, her lips were pressed in a thin line. "We need them for the Army, remember?"
Nikolai's eyes softened as he looked at her for a long minute, he seemed to be thinking hard about it. "Tomorrow." he said and left without another word.
Yelena scoffed loudly enough for the prince to hear her in his way out. She then looked at her sister who was sitting in a divan, quietly.
"Thanks for backing me up, Alina." she crossed her arms over her chest.
"They might be right! You saw how many Grisha were on his side, Lena! We can't be sure–"
"Don't." she raised a finger at her sister, shutting her up immediately. Yelena stormed out of the room and went straight to bed.
She barely slept three hours but when she woke up the next morning, Yelena was full of energy. She wore her elaborate kefta and descended the dacha's steps with Tolya trailing behind her. Mal and the twins were still dressed in peasant clothes but they had pins of a sun and moon glittering from their chests.
She reached the gates before anyone could hold her back, she catch strands of blond hair and fancy clothes in the middle of the crowd, he was surrounded by soldiers. That's not good, Yelena thought.
Yelena stepped forward for the people to see her and soon she was in a sea of Grisha of different colours of kefta. Nikolai's eyes found hers and he looked alarmed, his hazel looked behind Yelena and in the next second Tolya was grabbing her arm and trying to get her inside the gates again and Mal was pushing Grisha back. But from the corner of her eye she catch a red kefta and a familiar face.
"Fedyor?" Yelena asked and the man turned his head from Nikolai to her, immediately walking through the crowd to meet her, pushing them aside only to be intercepted by Mal and Tolya, who were side by side.
"Lena!" The Heartrender called.
"Hey, he's okay." But the men didn't budge. "Step aside, now." Yelena commanded, there was an angry edge on her voice.
Tolya and Mal moved out of the Corporalki's way reluctantly. Yelena got close to Fedyor and soon he was hugging her tightly. Senior Starkov felt awkward at the physical demonstration and more in front of prying eyes.
"I knew you were alive." he whispered as Yelena touched his back gently.
"Well, you know me," she said looking at Fedyor with a small smile once they were apart. "I'm too stubborn to die." she whispered only for him to hear.
"Oh, I know." he laughed, but he looked sad.
Blond hair appeared in her visual field as she was about to keep talking to her friend. The prince, who seemed to always be playing a part, looked between troubled and confused but he smiled at them as he spoke.
"Fedyor, is it? Give us a moment." he said, it sounded more like an order.
Fedyor looked at Yelena, like waiting for her to dictate his next movement. She nodded, the Heartrender bowed slightly at them and went back to the Grisha as senior Starkov and junior Lantsov walked beyond the gates to speak more privately.
Yelena jaw was clenched; she was happy to see Fedyor in one piece and still loyal to the Crown, but her head kept going to the image of Ivan spitting blood and falling in the floor, lifeless. Saints, what am I going to say? Technically, I didn't kill him but I didn't save him either. He's going to be devastated and I'm the one to blame–
"Yelena," Nikolai's big hand and long fingers were on her arm, right above her elbow where the black scars were. He stared at her with questions on his eyes, wondering where her mind was but he didn't ask. Instead, he looked over his shoulder back at where the Grisha were. All of them were looking back, almost in a protective way. "Can he be trusted? Your.. friend?"
She wasn't sure if it was all on her mind or if he was asking about Fedyor being just her friend or not. "I believe so." Yelena nodded.
Nikolai's jaw muscle clenched. "Remember, you'll be eating with them, working with them, sleeping under the same roof."
"I'm very aware of the situation, moi tsarevich." she answered with an angry edge on her tone. "But I don't think these Grisha are any more or less trustworthy than the ones at the Little Palace. We are taking risks anyway."
"So yesterday I'm Nikolai but today I'm moi tsarevich?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Is that the only thing you picked up from everything I just said?" Yelena asked incredulous, but the corner of her lips were moving upwards. Before he could replied, she started speaking again. "Remember Ivan? The Darkling's Heartrender with anger issues? Well, Fedyor and him were together. If he's here it means he left his lover to stay loyal to the Crown. And believe me, knowing Fedyor that is something. He really did love him." And now he's dead, she wanted to add.
Nikolai sighed as he gazed at her, his eyes softening. "All right." he whispered. "Just be careful who you trust."
"I will, your majesty." she said in a mocking tone trying to ease the serious conversation. Nikolai smiled as he shook his head.
"Very well, General."
Yelena snorted, she brushed past through him to get closer to the gates, where she gestured Fedyor to come in. They talked for a solid hour in the terrace, where a servant brought them breakfast. Fedyor had been serving near Sikursk on the southeastern border when word of the destruction of Novokribirsk reached the outpost, the King's soldiers had turned on the Grisha, pulling them from their beds in the middle of the night and mounting sham trials to determine their loyalty. Fedyor had helped to lead an escape, they'd took the wounded and fled. But some Grisha hadn't been so forgiving; there had been massacres at Chernast and Ulensk when the soldiers there had tried to attack members of the Second Army. Yelena felt a pang of guilt; she had been safe and sound on a ship sailing to Ketterdam while people were dying because of her mistakes.
Yelena had told Fedyor that she saw Genya on the Whaler, and that she tried to shoot them. His usual sweet smile dropped, his features became sad and sour. And she knew what he was about to ask even before the words left his mouth. Her hand flew towards the Heartrender's, trying to give him some sort of support.
"Was he—?" Fedyor started but he got cut short as the double white doors opened and a tall man with blond hair stood there, looking at them.
"It's time," Nikolai's hazel eyes went to their connected hands, his lips pressed on a thin line before he forced a smile at Fedyor.
Yelena got to her feet slowly as her features became serious, more General-like. Then she remembered the prince's words: get them to follow the little orders, and they'll follow the big ones. "Tidy up and get them ready," she said, "we'll continue the conversation at the Palace."
Fedyor didn't blink— he just bowed and replied, "Da, soverenyi," before disappearing behind the white doors.
Yelena stiffened. She remembered calling Kirigan by that tittle hundreds of times and, in her head, it still belonged to him. It was the first time that someone had call her by it and it would be more to follow. Yelena hated it, but she wasn't allow to feel anymore. Nor to show those feelings. They were at war, feelings were a weakness that she couldn't allow. So she ignored the sourness in her mouth and her beating heart as she turned to Nikolai whose hazel were on her, he looked like he wanted to add something. Yelena pressed her lips together, not sure what to say. So she didn't say anything— instead, she walked past him into the manor and searched for Alina.
* * *
Yelena was mounting a dark gray horse, Tolya was trailing behind her, while Mal and Tamar were behind Alina. Even tho they'd been warned that Os Alta was teeming with refugees and pilgrims, Nikolai didn't insisted in riding in the coach. He rode between the sisters, in his gray horse and looking all prince charming like. Yelena didn't know if she should drool or gag at the show he was putting. Sometimes she wanted to go back to the Volkvolny when he was just Sturmhond, and when things weren't that complicated. But honestly, Nikolai was growing on her. At least when they were alone and he wasn't pretending to be somebody else.
They crested a hill at the outskirts of the town and Yelena clenched her jaw at the scene; between them and the capital, in perfect military formation stood rows of armed men. Hundreds, maybe thousand of soldiers of the First Army, infantry, cavalry, officers, and grunts. Sunlight glittered off the hilts of their swords, their backs bristled with rifles.
A man rode in a huge horse, he was wearing an officer's coat covered in medals. Yelena recognized the blond as Vasily Lantsov, the eldest. She never thought much of him, he was handsome yes, but his eyes were so heavy-lidded that he always looked drunk or bored. And maybe he always was one of those. She remembered making visual contact in some parties or seeing him in the forest with his ponies, but beyond that she knew nothing.
But now Vasily was like another person. He sat straight in his saddle, radiating arrogance and nobility. Nikolai looked younger at his side. The two princes dismounted their horses and clasped each other in a brief embrace. Vasily surveyed their retinue, his eyes paused on Yelena and the corner of his lips move upwards in a small grin. Yelena fought the need to snarl. Then the eldest brown eyes went to Alina.
"So this is the girl you claim is the Sun Summoner?"
Nikolai raised his brows, then he turned to Alina and nodded. Junior Starkov raised her hands and summoned a blazing wave of light that crashed over the soldiers in a cascade of billowing heat. Several stepped back as their horses shied and whinnied. The light faded after.
"And the Moon Summoner—" Nikolai started and was ready to give her a signal to demonstrate her power, but Vasily cut him off.
"Oh, I recognize her. Can't forget a face like that." he said, grinning. "You've been busy, little brother."
Yelena was too far to see and too disgusted to look at anything else but upfront, but Nikolai's jaw clenched as he tried to push his anger down.
"You have no idea, Vasya." replied Nikolai pleasantly, his brother looked prim after hearing the nickname. "I thought you'd be in Caryeva for the races."
"I returned to greet you." he smiled with malice. "The return of a royal prince is no small thing, even a younger son."
Vasily's emphasis was clear, and it made Yelena doubt Nikolai for a second. Maybe he underestimated his brother's interest in the succession. But Nikolai smiled. Meet insults with laugher.
"We younger sons learn to appreciate what we can get." he said. Then he called a soldier in Vasily's line. "Sergeant Pechkin, I remember you from the Halmhend campaign. Leg must have healed well if you're able to stand there like a slab of stone."
"Da, moi tsarevich," the man answered respectfully, but his features were surprised.
"'Sir' will do, sergeant. I'm and officer when I wear this uniform, not a prince."
Yelena fought the urge to smile. Unlike Vasily, Nikolai had served the infantry and actually earned every one of his medals rank.
"Yes, sir," said the sergeant. "Only bothers me when it rains."
"Then I imagine the Fjerdans pray daily for storms. You put quite a few of them out of their misery, if I recall."
"I seem to remember you doing the same, sir," said the soldier with a grin.
And with that small exchange, Nikolai had seized control of the situation and put himself on top of it, like the cherry on top of the ice cream. Yelena wouldn't say it out loud but she admired the prince, and his skills. Somehow, he reminded her of some thief back in Ketterdam, but way more cheery and flirty.
The brothers exchanged a few more words about Kerch whiskey and papers, then they positioned themselves at the head of the column and soon after they were moving again. The city gates sprang open for the princes of Ravka, and the procession continued through the crowd without pause. Many wagons and tents were marked with golden suns and silver moons, and as they rode to the makeshift camp, they heard the familiar cries of the people. Yelena spent most of the trip in the Vy on the coach, but she still heard them all yelling Sankta Alina. Some of them would cry her name, but Yelena was no Saint to them. But now riding her dark gray horse and out in the open, she heard different cries.
"Luna ditya!"
"Luna boginya!"
Yelena froze for a second, her lips parted as she tried to breath. They were calling her moon child and moon goddess. She'd heard the whispers before but now hearing it out loud, it took her by surprise.
"Luna koroleva!" Moon Queen.
Yelena shuddered. Why would they call her queen? Alina was the one Nikolai wanted, after all. Not her.
She shook her head slightly, getting rid of those thoughts. Yelena painted a smile in her lips and nodded to the pilgrims, sometimes she would wave. Other times they would try to get closer but Tolya was quick to get to her side and shield her from the crowds, even after Yelena herself told him it was okay.
They passed the city walls and slowed their paced as the lower town was bursting with people and traffic, the stink of urine and garbage was clouding Yelena's mind and making her breath through her mouth and beg not to throw up. Nothing in the upper town had changed, besides the bridge's gatehouse that was heavily fortified. The people who were outside turned their heads as they passed; some lifted their hats, whispered behind their hands, but all bowed and curtseyed when they caught sight of the princes. When they reached the double eagle fountain, Tolya helped Yelena from her horse. She looked at the Grand Palace, it stood there as ugly as always. Nikolai got close to her and whispered without taking his eyes from the Palace.
"Keep quiet and try to look penitent." Yelena snorted quietly, like he had told some kind of joke. "I'm serious, Yelena. Just for a while, hold your tongue." Nikolai turned to give her a meaningful look and before she could reply he was following his brother up the staircase.
The halls of the palace were quiet, their footfalls echoed on the polished and gleaming floors. They walked a few steps behind Nikolai, who took a deep at the doors of the throne room. Yelena stretched out her neck as she looked at the prince's face profile. Nikolai turned his head slightly to her, his hazel looked troubled and frightened even tho he tried to hide it, but after all those weeks together she learned to see past his walls. She realize then, he was scared of facing his parents. Senior Starkov smiled and gave him an encouraging nod, trying her best to express support through her gray eyes.
The doors were threw open and Nikolai looked upfront as the footman declared, "Tsesarevich Vasily Lantsov and Grand Duke Nikolai Lantsov."
They walked, keeping a respectful distance from the princes, on the long pale blue carpet. At the end of it, a groups of elegantly dressed courtiers and advisers were standing and above all of them sat the King and Queen of Ravka on matching golden thrones. The King looked still ill and weak, while the Queen seemed to have aged twenty years in just a few months without Genya's tailoring. Yelena wanted to pity them, but then she remembered what they both put her red-head friend through and suddenly anger replaced pity.
Nikolai bowed deeply. "Moi tsar, moi tsaritsa."
They stared at their son for a long moment before the Queen sprang from her throne and embraced her younger son in a tight hug while tears overflowed her eyes.
"Nikolai!"
"Madraya," he said with a smile, hugging her back.
Yelena clenched her jaw and looked away. Faded memories of her own mother clouded her eyes and she felt the need to cry but she pushed it down. You are too old to be pinning for parents you barely remember, she told herself.
The King called his son and family and they all disappeared behind the doors of another room for long minutes. Mal, Alina and Yelena stood in the throne room, unsure what to do next as the people close to the golden sits whispered behind their hands and stared at them. At one point, Yelena thought she heard shouting coming from the room and she wondered what Nikolai was telling them exactly.
When they finally returned, Yelena saw the Queen's pale face and the King was beaming, Vasily looked lived. Then she turned to Nikolai, who seemed to regain his swagger he once had aboard the Volkvolny. The royalty reseated, Vasily stood behind his father and Nikolai behind his mother who reached up, seeking his hand.
"You are too young to lead an Army," the King said, his eyes on Yelena but he didn't address her.
She bowed her head, "Yes, moi tsar,"
"I am very tempted to put you both to death immediately, but my son says it will only make you a martyr." Yelena saw Alina gulping from the corner of her left eye. "He thinks you can be trusted. I'm not sure. Your escape from the Darkling seems a very unlikely story, but I cannot deny that Ravka does have need of your services."
We are the last bloody chance this country has, we are not gardeners, she wanted to scream. Penitent, Nikolai's words bounced in her head.
"It would be our greatest honor to serve the Ravkan King." Yelena mumbled.
"Very well," the King replied, he probably loved her flattery. "At least temporarily, you will serve as the commander of the Grisha."
Alina and Yelena bowed, the latter spoke. "Thank you, moi tsar."
"But know this," he started, wagging a finger at them. "If I find any evidence that you are fomenting action against me or that you have had any contact with the apostate, I will have you hanged without plea or trial." His voice rose to a querulous wail. "The people think you are Saints and goddesses, but I think you are just ragged refugees. Do you understand?"
Oh, you little piece of shit. You should be glad I'm not sliding you in a half with the cut. And thank all Saints Nikolai is not like you because you'll be all doomed, Yelena thought in a surge of anger as she bit her tongue until she felt a metallic taste on her mouth. Instead, she bowed deeply. The King dismissed them with a hand, but they stayed in place, waiting for Mal's turn.
"Father," Nikolai cleared his throat. "theres the matter of the tracker."
"The..? Ah, yes." his bored eyes stayed in Mal. "You deserted your post and disobeyed orders of a commanding officer. That is a hanging offense."
The Starkov sisters stiffened, the eldest went to open her mouth to speak— and probably get herself hanged too, but Nikolai got closer to his father and spoke before she could mutter a thing. She looked as the King frowned and took in a deep breath.
"What's one more viper in the nest?" the King finally spoke, "You are dishonorably discharged."
"Dishonorably?" Alina blurted out, Yelena gave her a look to shut her mouth.
"Thank you, moi tsar." Mal bowed.
The King lifted his hand and told then to go. Yelena bowed once more and turned around before she could open her mouth and throw a few insults to the royalty. The doors of the throne room closed behind their backs, Yelena put a hand on Mal's shoulder as Alina was rambling about talking to Nikolai and make things right.
"I'm sorry, Mal." he gave her a grateful smile, but his eyes were sad.
"I'm alive, you are alive and we are together. It's gonna be alright." Mal said.
They retracted their steps through the gleaming halls. The audience in the throne room had left her nerves on edge, the fact that Mal could've been hanged for trying to protect them made her hands tremble. She was on edge. Yelena craved a room without people for at least five minutes, she needed a good night sleep, and get her feelings and mind back on track. But everywhere she went, there were crowds. Loud and tacky crowds who were always watching and expecting her to behave like a Saint, a goddess— how do they behave, tho?
It was the beginning, and Yelena was already exhausted.
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