"General," I acknowledged.
"Join me, Leksi," he said pleasantly.
His demeanour lacked the burden of a summoner. It had been unnerving the first time. It still was. It made him unpredictable - even more so. I was not sure what to make of that.
"Why did you summon me?"
Oooof. Bad pun. Not intentional.
His smirk made it clear that he caught it. I cringed.
"Was that..."
"Nope," I finished for him.
For once in his long life, he showed mercy and moved on.
"The kefta suits you."
"Oh, this old thing? Yes, apparently, I had a one-of-a-kind designer," I declared while pulling off a few poses.
This brought out a laugh from the dark General. Honestly, the sound was still surprising me. It made me wonder if the tsar - General - ever had friends once. You know, like a group of them? Like Mother had with Mal, Genya, Nikolai, David and even Zoya eventually. He never really spoke about his past. Why he was who he was. Would I ever find out? Almost as if he knew what I was thinking, he reached for my hands. The contact was so startling I almost recoiled. I'm glad I didn't.
"Leksi, there is something I'd like you to know."
I didn't know where this was going, but I felt like this was a test. I couldn't afford to fail. I closed my hands around his own, returning the grasp. I nodded for him to continue.
"My name. Will you have it?"
"Why do you want me to..."
"Will you have it?" he insisted.
I nodded.
"Aleksander. Aleksander Morozova."
I knew what Mother thought. She had told me about the time when he told her. She had said that the name was ordinary. And laughed. That he smiled. I couldn't imagine the Darkling smiling at the time. The concept had been so foreign to me, but I had seen it only seconds ago. The thing was... I already knew this information. It was where my own name came from. Morozova. A powerful history ran in our blood. A Saint lineage that not many people knew. I decided to play dumb. Well... as dumb as possible.
"Morozova," I emphasised.
"As in Ilya Morozova?"
This time it was his turn to be surprised. But not fearful. There was approval in his tone. As if Watson had solved a clue before Sherlock.
He was impressed.
"You're a clever one. Too clever."
What did that mean?
"Is that not a logical conclusion to make?"
"You know a lot about Saints for someone without an education."
"Everyone knows about the Saints. They're not just for Grisha."
"Right, but not their last names."
Damn.
"Do you know why I told you my name, malyshka?"
Not Leksi. And no hesitation. He really wanted this.
"Why?"
"Because I want to know yours."
"But you..."
"Your full name, Leksi."
What was my move here? I had been planning to wait till Mother arrived - but I guess this changed things. Do I tell him the truth? Could I even bring myself to say it? It was too confronting. I couldn't face my name before because of how it connected me to him; what that might say about who I am. Who I might become. But... now I didn't know what to feel about it. What I felt about my tsar. The man who gave me life. What would I be admitting?
"You have a pen?"
I was met by a quizzical look.
"A pen?" I asked again.
He obliged my request and handed me the golden ballpoint tucked in his kefta. I took the closest napkin and wrote my given name on it. A secret. He eyed me suspiciously as if I were a Fjerdan Grisha. With a hesitant hand, he pulled the napkin to his side of the table. Watching him unfold the napkin, I noticed my vision was getting brighter. I was losing focus on my surroundings... but a golden shimmer began to form... solidifying into the thread I'd come to know so well. Everything went dark.
There were people... huddled in fear on a... wait... I'm on a skiff? It couldn't be. How was this possible? I'm in the fold.
Mother! She would be on it today.
Suddenly, there was light again... but it wasn't blue.
"What is wrong with you?" Zoya's voice rang out, clearly annoyed.
She wasn't wrong.
We were already surrounded by the volcra.
The screams erupted.
All hell broke loose.
I had to find Mother.
Bodies were flailing, flying. A lot of sickly crunches. I saw a volcra pierce its talon right through an inferni's heart. My heart lurched at the image. Such a waste of potential.
"Alina!"
A volcra was heading straight for Mother till Mal intercepted the blow just in time. It seemed the beast made quite the impact as Mal hit the floor with a resounding thud.
"Mal!"
Should I do something?
Mother shielded her childhood love protectively. Her amplifier - little did she know. She looked helpless. Terrified. I should do something. An agonising cry escaped her lips as a volcra pierced her shoulder blade. She reached for Mal, her lifeline, the one thing holding her up. He said something to her, but I could quite catch it. That's when it happened. A piercing white light shot upward, expanding till no one was in sight. The cord was cut.
I was welcomed back with the eyes of a worried general, along with the sight of two healers and a heartrender. A heartrender? His gaze on me - like the volcra talon in the inferni.
"Malyshka, what happened?" he whispered. His hand on my cheek.
He noticed me realise and immediately removed his hand.
"I... uh..."
How could I...?
My thoughts were interrupted as Ivan came to the scene.
"Sir!"
The Darkling's head whipped around, the gesture radiating frustration, annoyance and impatience.
"Ivan?"
"It's her," he announced cryptically.
"What do you..."
"It's her, sir. The Sun Summoner."
Oh, rip.
"Are you certain?"
His second in command nodded.
In a matter of seconds, I was scooped up in the Darkling's arms, shielded by his cloak. Just like the memory. His corporalki followed suit, emptying the room. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the General's chest, letting my thoughts drift to the most important person of this time.
Mother.
Hey, y'all! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. :) When I write these father/daughter-like chapters, I literally see Ben Barnes' darkling in them. Like, I feel book darkling could never make this work. Thoughts? Have a great weekend!