IF IT FEELS LIKE A TRAP...
Swing, dodge, swing, dodge, swing. Dodge again.
The training sessions never got any less boring, even when someone as funny as Tamar was your partner. Still, Anya had been the person who convinced Alina to make physical training mandatory for the Second Army in the first place, so now it was within her duty to set an example.
Though maybe they should factore in the fact that Anya was the one who spent years, you know, in the real world, where she wasn't protected by the walls of the Little Palace and that she already had all the sword skills she expected herself to ever gain. The potential had been reached, nothing more to it. At least nobody expected her to go back to Botkin's classes ― that was a small victory, she supposed.
It wasn't that Anya disregarded the value of being physically strong altogether. But with the power of all the elements on her side, she did consider it a little bit redundant.
"Focus!" Tamar exclaimed in a joyful tone.
She loved those training sessions. At least one of the pair was enthusiastic to come to the training arena.
"I am focused," Anya muttered non-commitally and purposefully dropped her sword at a very light push. "Oh, no. I lost."
Tamar huffed. "I've seen you beat Nikolai in swordfighting."
"You're better than him, then. Congratulations." Anya smiled. "Break time?"
Tamar rolled her eyes, but followed the other girl off the field. They sat down on a sunbathed bit of grass and observed the other Grisha.
"How have you been feeling?" Tamar asked after a moment. "Back with the old crowd?"
Anya leaned back on her arms. "No feelings to be had."
"Of course. Stupid of me to ask."
Anya shot her an annoyed glance. Consider her instigated.
"Seems you've been having feelings for the both of us," she said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Isn't Nadia a bit annoying?"
"Anya."
"I mean, she's not a bad person or anything, but Marie and the Heartrender guy have a bad influence on her, if you're asking me."
"I wasn't."
"Oh, well, defend her to your heart's content."
Tamar didn't blush ― she never blushed, as far as Anya was aware ― but she started pulling at bits of grass in a nervous manner. Anya smiled a bit to herself.
"Right," she said. "So, I think you cover the feelings department for us both."
Tamar stopped picking at the grass and raised her brow. "Come on, now."
"What?" Anya asked in genuine confusion.
"You know what."
"I wouldn't be asking if I knew. That's kind of the point of questions."
Tamar threw a heap of grass at Anya's hair.
"Seriously―" Anya started brushing the green bits out of her hair.
"I see how things are between you two, you know," Tamar cut her off, then shrugged. "No need to keep it hidden."
Anya looked at her like Tamar was speaking in an unknown language.
"I'm not following."
Tamar rolled her eyes, lying down so she supported herself only on her elbow.
"I know you've been meeting Nikolai basically every night," she said. Then, realising the unfortunate insinuation: "At the library, I mean." And before Anya had the opportunity to question her, even though she already knew the culprit, "Yakow told me."
Anya sighed and look up at the sky, as if asking the Saints for patience.
"We've been working over things," she said. "War related matters. Trust me, it's not very romantic."
Tamar shrugged, "Nikolai could make looking at you from across the courtyard romantic. It's all a matter of intent."
"You and Yakow are the same," Anya lamented.
"As in, we have eyes? See what's clearly there?"
"This is like trying to talk sense into a flower pot."
"If he was doing any of this," Tamar gestured widely at Anya, "with a noble girl, it would be considered courting."
"Well, I'm not a noble girl, am I?"
"Like I said, it's a matter of intent. He'll propose to you during one of those secret little library sessions and you'll be shocked at the audacity."
Anya fell silent for a moment, searching for a rational way to explain the situation she and Nikolai had found themselves in to Tamar. Without disclosing too much about the terms of their agreement, preferably.
"Winning this war is what matters, Tamar," she declared. "Making Nikolai the king, so that no other spineless man takes the throne and leads Ravka into the same ruin again. Once all of that is done, I'll be gone and he's going to rule and deliver on some promises he's made me. An arrangement, is what this is. Nothing more to it."
Tamar sat up. "What promises has he made you?"
"Nothing out of this world." Anya brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Just paying more attention to the poor citizens of this country in general. Building schools, redistributing the wealth, giving out food before winter. Pretty low demands, in my opinion."
When Anya looked over to see the girl's reaction, Tamar's expression was thoughtful.
"I think he would have done all of that even without an obligation," she said carefully.
"I'm beginning to see that too," Anya responded.
They observed the Grisha weild their swords for a while, poking fun at some students and cheering others on from the sidelines, always having a favored participant in any given battle. The Second Army soldiers were getting better at working with those weapons, but Anya hoped there would never come a situation when they'd have to use one to save their own life.
"Mal asked Tolya to help him prepare horses tonight," Tamar said after a moment.
Anya's brow furrowed a little. "For what?"
Tamar shrugged, standing up.
"I don't know, but I'll be keeping an eye on Alina. Still figured I would tell you, in case you could make something out of it." She extended a hand towards Anya with a grin. "Come on. Time to go back to training."
Anya took her hand and followed Tamar back onto the training grounds, but her mind was racing. Why would Mal ask Tolya for help, if she could do it himself? Did he just want to get Tolya in the stables? But even if, that didn't answer the most important question. Where was Mal trying to go?
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
It was late evening and the last Grisha, as well as nobles were disappearing from the commons of the palace grounds. Anya's steps didn't lead her back to the Grand Palace, though ― she was headed towards one of the side gates, where she was expecting to run into the Sun Summoner herself.
Anya's intuition, of course, did not fail her. As soon as she turned the last corner, she was greeted by the sight of a pretty, white carriage, with Tamar and Tolya seated atop its coach-box and Mal and Alina struggling with something in its shadow.
Anya coughed, letting them know of her presence and was soon met with three sets of utterly surprised eyes, accompanied by Tamar's knowing stare.
"Good evening," Anya said, putting a hand on her hip. "Going for a late night ride?"
"Anya," Alina choked out. "We were just―"
"Sneaking out, like school children on a trip?"
Mal took a step forward to stand in front of Alina.
"We're going to a party," he said.
"How exciting." Anya measured Mal's clothes with an unimpressed stare.
He was wearing a dark cloak and was holding at least five more of the same articles of clothing ― he must have been trying them out on Alina.
"Alina deserves a break," he said.
"I agree," Anya replied. "But what if someone catches you?"
"We have a plan." Mal raised his chin defiantly.
"Oh, I'm sure."
"And Tolya and Tamar were going to come with us," Alina muttered. "For safety."
The twins were still sitting on the coach-box, but neither of them joined the conversation.
"They're too loyal to you to stop you from getting into trouble," Anya responded. "They'd rather let you do whatever you want and come to rescue if it was needed. I'm more for preventing the worst case scenario. You can't go anywhere accompanied only by these two."
Mal let out an exasparated sigh and started scrambling away from the carriage ungracefully, with the piles of clothes still in his hands.
"What are you doing?" Anya asked.
"You caught us," Mal grumbled. "What are we supposed to do? Follow you to Nikolai's office so we can get scolded?"
Alina slapped his arm. "Stop being—"
"That's not what I meant," Anya cut in, stepping closer to the vehicle. "I said you two aren't going anywhere with just the twins. I could use the fresh air."
Minutes later, they were on the way to the party ― the three of them sitting on the uncomfortable seats in the coach and the twins handling the horses.
Anya had figured out that Mal wasn't asking for Tolya's help just for the sake of it ― that it was a guise, which was supposed to lead to Mal and Alina convincing the twins to accompany them a bit further than just to the stables. A lot further, in fact. The mansion they were headed towards was on the outskirts of Os Alta. They were going to sneak into one of the thematic parties one of the dukes often organised.
Once in the carriage, Anya had the misfortune of hearing the supposedly genius plan Mal had come up with.
"Pretending to be fortunetellers is the whole plan? You aren't very bright," Anya told the boy when he attempted to put on the mask of a fortune teller.
"I'm as bright as they get," he replied. "This is a bright plan."
Anya raised a brow and looked at Alina, a question of Is he serious? written in her gaze. Alina barely supressed a laugh.
"At least it's a plan," Alina tried. "We just wanted to get away from the Little Palace for a while."
Anya surveyed the girl sitting opposite her. The circles under Alina's eyes were almost as dark as her own. It was true that in the last few days Anya felt as if a new sadness ran through the other girl, but she decided not to question her. She thought she'd been projecting her own feelings onto her friend, but now it was clear as day Alina was beginning to experience the same sort of exhaustion Anya had been living with most of her life.
The worst possible thought appeared in a dark corner of her mind. Was it the Darkling's influence? Was it his taint, as she often called it? With every passing day the guilt was becoming more and more unbearable. She could have prevented all of this, had she only been strong enough to fight him in the past. Now it was too late ― now he had an army of shadows and nothing to lose.
"Could have at least picked a fancier destination," Anya jabbed. "I mean, really. Playing the role of a medium at a party full of drunkards doesn't seem very poetic."
Mal tossed something in her direction. Anya's air manipulation caught it mid-flight and she saw that it was one of his ugly, sparkling masks.
"Should have thought of it sooner," he grinned, "because now you're a part of the fun. Unless you want to walk into that party as yourself and make a scene."
"You know what else could be fun? Murder."
"I don't think Prince Perfect would be very happy about that."
"And now murder seems all the more convincing. Keep it up."
"There will be no murder," Alina said. "And no telling Prince― I mean, no telling Nikolai. Please."
Anya never planned on telling him ― or rather, she wasn't going to rat them out while they could get in trouble. After the fact, at some point, perhaps weeks from now, she'd probably tell him, with the explicit instruction not to let them know she did. What would it matter anymore, anyway? But there was no harm in threatening others every now and then.
"I might tell him, might not."
"Anya, come on."
"I'm definitely telling him about the fact that ridiculous nickname stuck."
"He knows," Mal said. "Honestly, I think he loves it."
"Makes sense," Anya almost smiled. "He is awfully vain."
Alina chewed on her bottom lip, then, "Anya, I..." The girl hesitated. "I've been researching Ilya Morozova."
"Oh," Anya said, remembering what the girl had told her some time ago, about feeling the lack of her third amplifier. "So have I."
She wasn't angry at Alina for disregarding her advice to drop the subject ― truth be told, among all the work Anya had been consumed by these last few weeks, she'd almost forgotten why she was trying to solve the case of Sankt Ilya altogether.
"You have?" Alina's question was equally bewildered and offended. "But you told me to forget about it!"
Anya shrugged. Alina got here there.
"I also told you not to ask for permission," she replied.
"You're impossible."
"I also genuinely didn't want you to worry about those legends. I had a feeling nothing would come of it."
Mal looked, as always, confused. "Can one of you catch me up to date on what we're working with?"
"That's the thing, Mal." Alina caught the bridge of her nose between her finger and her thumb. "There's nothing to catch up on. Ilya Morozova was a legend more than he was a man."
"A Grisha Saint," Anya muttered.
Mal looked at Alina with a wide grin. "So he was like you, then. You'll figure this out."
Alina looked like she wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face. Mal was lucky they arrived at the mansion and the carriage stopped before Alina could follow up on her urges ― Anya remembered just how hard she had hit Nikolai's face. Right after it went back to being pretty, too ― not that Sturmhond was an ugly man, of course, but there was something about Nikolai that couldn't quite be replicated. Anya would sooner die than admit any of it out loud, obviously.
They stepped out of the coach, all of them dressed up in the ridiculous masks and silky capes Mal had given out. Tamar jumped down from the coach-box, where she had been sitting with Tolya. Her brother waved at them, then rode ahead to find a place for the horses and the carriage. Anya eyed Tamar's coat and noticed the vague outline of her axes through the material.
"What if someone actually wants his fortune told?" Alina asked, pulling up her hood.
"That's the easiest part, I'd say," Anya muttered, looking around. She had been aching to get out of the palace for a while, but this place was far from the ideal escape destination. Anyway, she was there more to take care of Alina than to do anything else.
"Just feed him the usual drivel," said Mal. "Beautiful women, unexpected wealth. Beware of the number eight."
They stepped inside through a backdoor, right into an overheated, crowded room. Of course, as was their luck, trouble arose as soon as they came in.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" a servant said, grabbing Alina's arm.
Anya noticed Tamar's hands sliding to her weapons and coughed. They couldn't fail that early, it would just be embarassing. Tamar furrowed her brows at Anya and tilted her head towards the man holding Alina.
"I―" Alina whimpered, but didn't come up with anything else.
Anya put on her best pretend smile, which, given how little practice she had faking pleasantries, definitely didn't work as well as Nikolai's would have.
"What seems to be the problem?" she asked.
"What do you think you're doing, taking breaks right now?" the servant exclaimed.
Maybe the costumes were a little too good, if these people were immediately comfortable with treating them like animals. The wonders of being employed.
"Oh," Anya replied in a worried tone. "My friend here wasn't feeling very well, she needed some fresh air."
The man shoved Alina towards the entrance to the main rooms of the house.
"Get back to work immediately," he ordered. "And don't spend too long with any single guest. And don't let me catch you drinking!"
Anya nodded and they hurried into the ballroom. The place was thoroughly decorated, hundreds of star-shaped lanterns hung from the ceiling and silks were draped on the walls. A few other masked people were already making rounds around the guests, reading the future from their palms, faces or other things. In the hands of a real medium, anything could be used as a device to know what fate holds ― supposedly. Anya never believed in anything spiritual and she was well aware that the only thing she would be able to read from someone's palm would be whether or not they had worked a day in their life, judging by the softness of it. She wasn't against feeding these nobles some horrible lies, though.
Alina grabbed Anya's sleeve.
"We're going that way, okay?" the girl said, holding onto Mal's hand. Anya nodded, casting a glance at Tamar who also gave a shake of her head. Tamar would look after them for now, they'd switch later.
For a brief moment Anya thought she'd be able to spend a while sitting in a corner, maybe even sneak outside and look at the stars. That wasn't the reality, though and as soon as she ventured into the ballroom, two girls leaped to her.
"Tell our fortunes!" the taller girl demanded. She was pretty, with dark eyes and long black hair. She stunk of alcohol and had to hold onto her shorter blonde friend not to fall.
"I'm sure they're bright," Anya replied with resignation, motioning towards one of the little tables by the wall of the room. The table was laid with enamel cups and a golden urn ― it was too bad she had no idea how to use any of that.
Anya sat in an armchair on one side of the table, the two friends occupied the chairs opposit.
"Alright," she said. "Give me your hand."
The blonde squinted. "I thought you people told fortunes from coffee dregs."
"That's an old custom. Times change."
The dark-eyed girl shrugged and reached out her hand. Anya gently turned her palm upwards and started analysing the lines on the girl's skin.
"Oh..." Anya muttered.
The girl seized her arm, "What is it?"
"Is it bad?" the other one whined.
"You have to let me focus," Anya answered. These girls made way too easy prey. She traced her finger against the girl's hand one more time, then let go as if burnt. "Oh, it's horrible. I'm so sorry."
The girl yelped in terror. "Am I going to die?"
"One day, yes," Anya responded, crafting a horrendous lie to feed her. "But that is not the worst. Tell me, are you in love?"
The girl nodded. eyes wide with panic. Anya shook her head slowly.
"It will not last," she said in mock sadness. "He will lose his mind and find himself in love with a farm animal."
The girl gulped. "A― A farm animal?"
Anya nodded solemnly. "A donkey, from what I'm seeing. The details are usually unclear."
The two looked at each other in consternation.
"Well," the girl's friend said, "you have been thinking about calling things off with him..."
The dark-eyed girl gasped. "Should I leave him in his insanity? Would that be romantic?"
She shot a look at Anya, who was trying her best not to burst out laughing.
"Ah, yes," Anya said. "Very romantic."
The girl nodded to herself a couple of times and muttered something under her breath, before springing out of the chair without another word. The blonde friend followed suit.
"All in a day's work," Anya muttered, already scanning the ballroom for Alina.
Before she could seek her out in the crowd, two drunk noblemen stumbled onto the chair on the opposite end of the table. One of them had a cup in hand, threw it back like he was gulping kvas and slammed the empty cup down, revealing the dregs at the bottom of the porcelain.
"Now," he slurred, beer foam stuck to his red mustache. "What've I got in store? And make it good."
Anya raised a brow and leaned over the cup, considering the dirty cup. She would love to mess with these two, but the man seemed a violent one and starting a fight wasn't an option that night, unfortunately. Anya couldn't beat up every single stupid man who ever stood in her way, or she'd leave an endless trail of bodies in her wake.
She raised her eyes from the cup, but the fake smile disappeared from her lips and her gaze was cold again. The men were too tipsy to realise the change.
"You will come into a great fortune," she said in a blank tone. "Goodnight."
The man waved a hand at her, "Already have a great fortune. What else?"
"Your wife will give birth to three handsome sons."
His beak-nosed companion burst out laughing. "Then you'll know they aren't yours!" he bellowed.
The man's red face turned even redder. Anya grimaced.
"Have to congratulate the footman!" he roared.
"I hear all the best families have bastards," chortled his friend.
"We all have dogs, too. But we don't let them sit at the table!"
Anya breathed sharply. They were clearly alluding to Nikolai, judging by the satisfied, knowing glances they sent each other. Something squeezed around Anya's heart. Nikolai told her the rumours have been wide spread for years, but she never imagined the noble people would talk about him with such casual cruelty.
"Oh," Anya said, looking into the cup again. "Oh well. How sad."
"What's that?" said the nobleman, still laughing.
"How old are you?" she asked.
The man furrowed his brows, as if remembering his age was the hardest task he had to face that whole day.
"Twenty six," he replied over a hiccup.
"You will die within the decade," Anya told him. "Truly unfortunate."
The man released a nervous laugh, his brain too misty with alcohol to comprehend the threat of her words.
"What?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes, face still turned towards the cup. Death didn't matter to these two enough for it to be a good motivator.
"And you will go bald," Anya said. "Including the mustache."
He stopped laughing, and his meaty hand strayed to his already thinning red hair.
"And you," she said, focusing on the other one. "You will be exiled."
"I― What?"
"Exiled!" Anya declared in dire tones. "And you will leave Ravka with nothing but the clothes on your back." She considered him for a moment, annoyed at the stupid look on his face. "After being abandoned by your wife."
He paled. His throat worked.
"But―"
Anya was beginning to have a wonderful time, but at that moment there was shouting from inside the ballroom. A loud crash was heard, the sound of someone upending a wooden table. She stood up from the table and walked towards the noises, where a fight was already in motion ― thankfully, her worst expectations did not come true that time. Some strangers were throwing fists at each other in a corner of the room, but Alina, Mal and Tamar were nowhere in sight. Still, Anya decided that it was time to leave and set off to search for the others. Alina had to be satisfied with the fun she already managed to have that night.
People were pushing and shoving, crowding the doors to the terrace, the music had stopped. Tables were collapsing and random noblemen were rushing in to join the fight. Amidst it all, Anya noticed Alina, the girl was hunched in a corner of the ballroom, Mal by her side. Tamar was a few steps ahead of them, axes already in hands. Anya walked up to the group and put a hand on Alina's shoulder.
"Party's over," she said.
Alina looked up startled at first, but once she recognised Anya she nodded and tugged on Mal's sleeve. The boy was reaching for his pistol and he called to Tamar, who joined them.
"Out the back." Tamar led the way.
Suddenly, a scream was heard behind them and Mal froze in his tracks, dropping Alina's hand.
"Get her to the carriage," he said and disappeared back into the ballroom to help whoever was in need.
Anya pushed Alina forward before the girl had the chance to start protesting and the three of them continued on their way outside. After a moment, Alina summoned a bit of light to guide them.
"Don't," said Tamar. "This could be a distraction. You'll give away our location."
Alina let the light fade, and a second later, there was a scuffle, followed by silence.
"Anya?" Alina asked.
"Be quiet," Anya replied, raising her hands. It was either Mal, or someone was following them. Anya would have left it alone were she without company, but Alina's scared tone was enough motivation to act. "I'll check."
Anya gestured at the two to stay where they were and started walking back the way they came, careful not to make a sound. She followed down that path for a few minutes, occasionally spooked by a wildlife animal making a noise in the garden, but other than that, nobody was there. After a while longer, she lowered her arms and sighed.
"Paranoia strikes again," she muttered, all too aware of her pounding heart.
It had been long since she had a reason to fear anyone in battle, but fear wasn't something that could be conquered by logic. Her blood was running cold in her veins at the thought of something bad happening to Alina while she was supposed to be under her protection, so Anya convinced herself her pointless chase through the moonlit gardens had a purpose. Better to be safe than sorry.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash and Anya immediately raised her arms again.
"Who's there?" she called, walking towards the noise.
"Me." Mal emerged from the shadows with a sheepish look on his face. "I knocked something over."
He had a cut in his upper lip ― probably a noblemen took a swing in the wrong direction ― and his hair was a mess, but otherwise he looked fine.
"Took you long enough, Oretsev," Anya said with regained composure.
"Where's Alina?" he asked.
"She's ahead with Tamar. There was a strange noise and―"
Anya paused. Wouldn't the other two have started looking for her by that point? She'd been so focused on making sure there was no one on the path behind them, she completely disregarded the possibility of someone waiting ahead, for a perfect moment to attack. And such perfect moment would be the one when the Blogosloven Siloy was out of the picture.
Without another word, Anya turned around and started running back to where she left Tamar and Alina.
"Anya?" Mal's voice was nervous, but he followed after her without question.
"I left them for too long," was all she could manage to say with the heavy weight that settled in her throat.
When they finally reached the crossing of paths, Tamar was lying on the ground in a bloodied cloak, breathing rapidly. Alina was nowhere to be seen.
As Mal started yelling his friend's name, Anya fell to her knees at the girl's side and took her face in her hands, trying to manouver her so she could check Tamar's breathing. Tamar's eyes opened with a loud gasp as soon as Anya touched her, which resulted in her letting go of Tamar and the girl flopping back to the ground.
"What happened?" Anya asked over Mal's insistent screams.
Tamar stood up and motioned towards the nearby hedge.
"She's beyond there," Tamar said. "They took her there!"
The three of them ran towards the hedge. Anya searched it for some sort of an entrance, but the structure seemed solid all the way down.
"Alina!" Mal yelled again, the loudest yet.
They waited for a moment, and then, "I'm here!" Alina called from the other side.
Mal ran ahead, turning around the hedge's corner and found an entry into a courtyard, which he entered with a pistol drawn. Tamar and Anya were behind him, ready for a battle. Anya never thought it would come to this, but she was beginning to regret leaving palace grounds that night.
The man disappeared into an alleyway before Anya had the chance to fully acknowledge his presence, but one look was enough to know his identity. It was the Apparat.
Tamar bolted past them all with a furious roar, diving into the hedges to give chase.
"I need him alive!" Alina shouted at her disappearing back.
Anya secretly hoped Tamar would find the man and catch him, but that wasn't the most important thing at the moment.
"Are you all right?" Anya asked as she came level with Alina.
"I'm okay," Alina said. "They set us up, the crash was a distraction― Anya, I think he has Morozova's journals."
"Did he give any proof?" Anya questioned.
"Did he hurt you?" Mal insisted again.
"I can handle an old priest," Alina said impatiently.
That even made Anya smile a little.
"Did you hear what I said?" Alina asked Mal, her tone a little offended.
"Yes, I heard you. I thought you were in danger," Mal replied.
"I wasn't. I―"
But Tamar was already striding back, her face a mask of frustration.
"I don't understand it," she said, shaking her head. "He was there and then he was just gone." She pointed at Anya. "You should have went after him. Maybe you would have understood the trick that old crone pulled."
Anya tilted her head towards Alina, "I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice within an hour. We'll get him sooner rather than later, though, I promise."
"Alive," Alina pleaded.
Anya rolled her eyes. "If he has the journals, I'll consider it."
Tamar hung her head. "Forgive me."
"It's all right," Alina said though her face betrayed disappointment. "Let's get out of here."
They found Tolya in a narrow side street. The ride back to the palace was tense, as if something terrible was looming over them.
"That brawl was no coincidence," Mal said.
"No," Anya shook her head, guilty expression on her face. "They wanted to get us out of the Palace, then away from Alina."
"But how did anyone know we were in there?" Alina asked.
Anya didn't respond. The distrustful part of her believed it was an inside job, because how else would it have happened? One of the Palace guards must have been working for Apparat and he saw them sneak out, heard them talking about their destination ― maybe, but the details weren't lining up. The Apparat had found a perfect place take Alina to, that space in the gardens surrounded by hedges. It couldn't have been an accident that led them there. The one who led them there had been Tamar.
"No one else knew we were going. Did you tell Nikolai?" Mal accused, pointing at Anya.
"No," Anya replied, stunned at the idea that the prince was considered a possible traitor.
"Nikolai had nothing to do with this," Alina said.
"How can you be so sure?" Mal questioned.
"Think for a moment, would you?" Anya said. "What does he have to gain from all this? Alina is already on his side."
"Maybe someone saw us leaving the palace," Alina muttered.
Anya looked out the window into the dark, starry night. The lamplit streets passed by the coach's window. The easiest way to trick someone was to pretend you had been tricked as well. Everything lined up if she were to accuse Tamar ― everything except for the motive. What point would have been there to her betrayal? Tamar adored Alina.
"We got lucky tonight," said Anya. "The Apparat is capable of much worse."
"I was never in any real danger," Alina insisted. "He just wanted to talk."
"How touching."
"He's raising some kind of army," Alina continued. "People who believe that I've risen from the dead, who think I have some kind of holy power."
"Saints," Anya muttered. "You're well and truly a martyr."
"How many?" Mal asked.
"I don't know. And I don't know what he intends to do with them. March them against the King? Send them to fight the Darkling's horde? I'm already responsible for the Grisha. I don't want the burden of an army of helpless otkazat'sya."
"We're not all quite so feeble," said Mal, an edge to his voice.
Anya nodded. "The people aren't weak, they're exploitable. He's using them to gain back power."
"Is it any different than Nikolai parading Alina from village to village?" Mal asked.
"You should give up on trying to make him look bad already," Anya responded, leaning back against the uncomfortable cushions.
"Are you going to tell him about tonight?" Alina muttered.
Anya didn't reply for a long moment. She had a feeling she should ― Nikolai was trustworthy, after all and maybe he would have been able to help her make any sense out of the wild theories racing through her mind. Alina clearly wanted to keep all of this hidden, though. It was a choice between loyalties.
"Are you?" she asked finally.
Alina raised her chin. "When I find it appropriate."
"I see." Anya sighed. "I'll leave you to it, then."
It would be just another truth she couldn't tell him about.
A/N
i changed a lot about the ball they attended bc the way the book described it all was a little strange to me. this is siege and storm (nikolanya's version) i will bend everything and anything as i please xx
also IT'S SHADOW & BONE SEASON!! two days left until i see wylan i can't believe it