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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓.
| herring and rye |
❝𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞.❞
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𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄.
wooo updating two days (?) after i posted the last chapter so proud /hj
i wish i could read s&b again for the first time. sigh. such is the burden of the reader ;-;
(also are you liking the fanart i post every chap or should i stop)
~𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲
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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃 nothing to ease my irritable mood.
Herring and rye.
An abomination worse than the Fold.
I picked at the sad pieces of pickled fish, twisting my mouth into a thin line. Even the smell irked me.
I sighed an put down my fork with a clink. There was no way this was going down my throat. I'd probably throw up all over the Darkling's immaculate kefta first - not that that would be so terrible, considering the fact that he very annoyingly never had a hair out of place.
The Darkling glared at me. "You need to eat more, Alina. You look like a stick."
"Thanks a lot for that," I grouched, but his innocent comment was like sending a loaded punch to the gut - I couldn't help but remember what Mikhael , Mal's friend, used to call me. Sticks. I used to hate that nickname.
Now it felt like a happy memory, a remnant of another time.
The Darkling sighed, and by the way his fingers twitched, it looked like he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"Please, Alina," he said tiredly. "I don't have the time or patience to argue with you today."
I rolled my eyes but reluctantly shoved a piece of herring into my mouth anyway, not wanting to risk his wrath.
The Darkling smiled sarcastically at me, but the intensity of it set my veins on fire anyway.
I made a rude gesture at him.
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After much slouching and words of grumbled protest that went unheard, I finished my herring and rye. I was then promptly dragged from the dining hall by the oprichniki for more training, though it was much easier this time. Summoning had become as easy as breathing as I trained more and more. I couldn't dispute the fact that the Darkling knew what he was doing - after all, he'd had centuries of practice.
"Enough," I panted, sweat dripping from my brow and down my forehead.
The Darkling stared me down. "It will never be enough, Alina. If you want to reach your full potential, you'll need far more training. You've barely scratched the surface of what you can do, as it is."
My heart grew cold at his words. "What if I don't want to reach my full potential?" I snapped. I didn't tell him that deep, down, I was afraid of what I could do. I didn't even know if I wanted to test the limits of my power, for fear of what would happen.
If I could cut down an entire forest with a day's work, who knows what I could do in a month, a year?
The thought was both electrifying and horrifying at the same time.
The Darkling's eyes went dark. "You can't do anything for Ravka if all I have to work with is a lazy orphan girl who doesn't realise the gift she has been given."
"Gift?" I spat. "Gift? My gift is the reason I am enslaved to you, the reason we are waging this war! Sometimes I wish I was just an orphan girl and nothing more!"
His fists clenched as I continued my tirade.
"You don't even care about me. All you care about is my power, and my supposed gift!"
Here, his gaze softened just a fraction. He tilted his head. "Oh, my Alina. You have no idea how wrong you are."
He never elaborated, because he left me standing in the field alone.
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I fumed in my room.
I hate him so much.
The sooner I put a dagger in him and killed him for good, the better.
I sighed. The night was long and my eyes heavy. The owl hooting outside indicated that it was time for sleep. I crawled into bed and threw the covers over my body, before shutting my eyes.
Thump.
I bolted up. What was that?
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