I ᗯᗩKE ᑌᑭ with tears staining my face. For a short moment, I forget why the tears are there, but then everything comes back when I find Aleksander huddled in my arms, holding me tightly against him, and it rips the air right out of my lungs.
"I'm dying."
When he said that, it broke my heart into two clean pieces. I've finally accepted the fact that I am immortal, and now there is a possibility that I will have to live that eternal life alone.
No. I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening. He said there was a way, but it is "unattainable." I could tell by how evasive he was acting that he didn't want to tell me what it was.
Aleksander's face is buried in the place where my neck meets my shoulder, looking entirely at peace. I want to wake him up so I can ask him what he meant earlier, but I can't bring myself to interrupt his serene slumber, so I just watch the long breaths of air compress and expand his chest. I can't feel my arm that is under him, holding him close to me, but I couldn't care less. My entire being feels numb. I've never had to fear his death before, but now, that's all I can think about. I think about all the times I haven't said "I love you" to him.
Suddenly, there are soft lips pressing against my forehead, bringing my attention back to Aleksander, who has finally awoken.
"Good morning," he says. A feigned smile curls his lips, but his eyes are haunted with sorrowful dejection, only just for a moment as he is coming off of sleep. Then, faster than the wick of a candle can be snuffed out, his emotion flickers away like a spirit exiting one's body, leaving a hollow mask of denial and apathy. Many would overlook it, but I see it as clear as day. That veneer he used to shield his feelings for so many years, which I had worked painstakingly to chip away, has been unearthed. "Well," he sighs. "I'd better get some work done. You can stay here longer if you'd like."
It stuns me momentarily as he looks at me without the slightest hint of concern, as if he has forgotten entirely about his affliction. It is, after all, easier to deny one's demise than to accept it. But denial is a step backward, and with limited time, we can only afford to move forward.
"What?" I scoff. He looks at me, innocently confused. "After everything you admitted to me last night about merzost and your malady from it. . . You're just going to bury yourself in work and forget about it?"
"I have a country to run, Alina."
"Like hell you do," I snarl before throwing off the covers and stomping to the door. The latch clicks into place as I lock it from the inside. When I turn to meet his quizzical face, I say, "You are not leaving until you tell me what solution you've found, no matter how absurd it is."
I can hear a soft sigh come from Aleksander as he stands from the mattress, now unamused. "As I said," he drones, "it is—"
"Unattainable, I know." I shrug with impatience. "Well?"
Another sigh from him makes my anger rise exponentially. He walks toward me as one would approach a hostile species: cautious, slow, and expecting trouble.
"I met with David Kostyk to discuss solutions to this ailment, but his ideas are too far out of reach."
I lose my patience altogether. I know he is hiding something crucial.
"What. Was. It." My jaw is clamped shut as stiff as steel.
He finally says, "I would be required to get rid of my nichevo'ya. My shadow monsters."
I'm left speechless for a moment, but just for a moment. Then the words, "Are you insane?" slip out of my mouth before I can think better of them.
"At the brink of war, with a country looking to harm you, I can't eliminate our one guaranteed defense. We used to have the Fold as a threat before you destroyed it. Now, our enemies think we are weak without it, and they're right. Without it, we are. But with the nichvo'ya, I can protect you and Amelia. I can create as many as we need—"
"You're saying," I cut in, "That David's unreasonable solution to cure you is getting rid of those wretched creatures."
"That isn't his solution," Aleksander says. "Just the first step. I can't use merzost while undergoing one of his cures. I cannot afford to banish our one threat against Shu Han. They will take the first opportunity given to hurt us. Hurt you." He takes my hands tenderly, holding them against his chest. Beneath, I can hear the deep pulse of his heart, which I note beats irregularly from time to time, reminding me that it is infected with dark magic, damaging, addicting, and irreversible.
Unless David is able to stumble upon a cure.
"I can handle myself," I argue back. My hand flexes beneath Aleksander's palms, and my cheeks heat up from my frustration, but he refuses to let go.
"That may not be enough," he rasps. "A Shu Han spy poisoned you. In our home. Guised as one of our own, a Ravkan. They want you dead." His deep grey irises seek mine, desperate in their steely gaze. But his desperation does not stem entirely from wanting to save me. Through the bond, in his eyes, there is desperation that belongs to greed. Greed and addiction lay hand in hand. Merzost uses both to enslave its user. I only got a glimpse of magic when I thought I could defeat the Darkling with it, but it is as useful as holding an explosive in your palm, made to go off at any second. It wasn't a good solution then, and it isn't a good solution now.
"You will stop using merzost, banish your nichevo'ya, and you will let David find a cure! I won't live without you." I stomp my foot like a toddler mid-tantrum. My rosy lips part, another argument on the tip of my tongue, when a high-pitched crash can be heard from downstairs, then a man's cry of pain ringing through the halls. The loud sounds sharply interrupt the familiar serenity of dawn.
Aleksander and I look at each other with wide eyes. Aleksander is the first to react, letting go of my hands and rushing down the corridor. I don't take long to catch up, trailing shortly behind him while I readjust the tie of my satin robe. Why can't these things happen midday when I'm not just coming from bed half-naked?
Our footsteps, muted by soft fabric slippers, travel through hall after hall, down the grand staircase, and finally to the kitchen where the source of the noises was. Ivan is by my husband's side in an instant, clearly woken up by the sound, as it is the first time I've seen him without a red kefta on. He only has a pair of long pajama bottoms on and a hastily thrown-on white shirt. His hands are extended in front of him, ready to find a heart to stop.
We all stare in shock at a young man, maybe eighteen, tall and skinny, lying slumped against a cracked brick wall between the stove and food pantry. He is badly burnt, the black char extending up the wall until it turns into ceiling. A small flame still dances on a burlap bag of potatoes until it sputters out in a stream of smoke. He coughs and sputters, blood coming from his mouth, letting us know that he is alive, but barely.
My confusion over who this man is and how he got this way is put to rest when I hear a soft cry from inside the pantry. I reach out to open the door, but Aleksander beats me to it. The door creeks open with its rusted hinges, revealing little Amelia huddled on the floor with her knees to her chin. Warm tears trail down her face. Fear and adrenaline shake her to her core. She doesn't even move when I bend to pick her up. She just stays limp like a rag doll.
"Take the man for questioning," Aleksander barks at Ivan. "Find out who he is and who orchestrated this attack by any means necessary."
Ivan nods, taking the mysterious man none-too-gently by the arm. Ivan wrenches him up, earning a pained groan. The man stumbles as he is pushed out of the kitchen, leaving us in peace to take care of Amelia. I set Amelia gently on the counter, inspecting the abrasions on her elbows and left knee, but she seems unharmed otherwise. I immediately start to dampen a cloth with warm water and dab it lightly on her scrapes and bruises. She hisses in pain.
I try to stay calm on the outside, but on the inside, my heart is racing as fast as a hummingbird. Aleksander hides his fear a bit better than me. He approaches my left side, smoothing back Amelia's snarled yellow curls in an attempt to console her.
Aleks gives Amelia a minute to catch her breath before he asks, "What happened?"
Her moist blue eyes glitter like the True Sea when she looks up at him, frightened out of her mind. "I-I wanted a pastry for breakfast, so I snuck into the kitchen to get one. Then, h-he came up behind me," she stammers. "He tried to grab me, so I fought back." She hiccups in between sobs. "Di-did I kill him?"
"No, he is still alive," Aleksander answers quietly. Amelia grapples with the reply, unsure if she should feel comforted or more distressed. "What happened next?"
"He tried to hold me down, but I burned his arm and part of his face. He shoved me away across the floor." She points to the abrasions on her skin, where the floor must have scuffed her up. "Then I sent wind at him, so he hit the wall, and I think some of my fire was carried with the wind too when it hit him, I don't know. . ." She trails off, trying to remember what happened exactly, but it must have all happened too fast to comprehend until it was over. "Then, I hid."
"I'm proud of you," I whisper against her cheek before placing a soft kiss there.
"For almost killing someone?" she frowns.
"For protecting yourself."
After I pull her into a hug, I continue to dab her scrapes with a warm washcloth, then moving to her face to wipe away her tears.
Aleksander's silence makes me glance up with concern to find him absolutely livid. Now that his fear is gone, it is easily replaced with rage. I don't blame him. Truth be told, I am just as angry, but the difference between my anger and his, is he projects it onto others. And for just this once, I am eager to see it. The feeling of your child getting harmed is worse than a knife through the heart. If they come for my Amelia, they come for all of us. Aleksander. Me. The entire Second Army. There is nothing we wouldn't do to protect her. That is why after an entourage of guards comes to flank Amelia, I follow Aleksander to find Ivan and the assailant. This man will not have the peace of death, though he will wish for it. Beg for it.
Since we require answers quickly, Ivan didn't waste time dragging the unknown man down to the dungeons. Instead, he was thrown into a well-lit dining room a few doors down and tied to a chair with thick ropes.
The heavy oak doors slam shut behind us, leaving us alone with the tall man. His straight, military-length hair is jet black with liquid splotches of red shining through on his scalp. His eyes are nearly swelled shut, nose broken, not to mention the blistering burns by courtesy of Amelia during the struggle.
Ivan is out of breath from the 'interrogation.' As much as he denies it, he has also taken a liking to Amelia. He could have just used his Heartrendering on this man, but that would not be harsh enough, apparently.
"Chinua Bat-Chen," Ivan huffs. "Another assassin from Shu Han. He wouldn't say anything else unless he speaks to the Queen." He looks at me solemnly.
Aleksander turns to me, a shadow cast over his grim face, and he says, "I'm keeping my shadow monsters. This ends now."
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No one hurts our Amelia and gets away with it! Things are about to get messy, but that's nothing new. Thanks for reading!! Feel free to vote, comment, and react or share he story. ♥️🌓