chapter nineteen.
The Fall of a Grisha
THE GRITSKI MANSION WAS IN THE CANAL DISTRICT, considered the least fashionable part of the upper town because of its proximity to the bridge and the rabble across it. It was a lavish little building, bordered by a war memorial on one side and the gardens of the Convent of Sankta Lizabeta on the other.
Mal had managed to secure a borrowed coach for the evening, and we were tucked inside its narrow confines with a very cranky Tamar. She and Tolya had grumbled long and loudly about the party, but Alina and I'd made it clear that we weren't going to budge.
We also swore them to secrecy; we didn't want word of our little excursion beyond the palace gates to reach Nikolai.
We were all dressed in the style of Suli fortune-tellers, in vibrant combinations of colors that included me in an ocean blue dress with beads that tangled together down my bust to the parallel side of my waist. Part of my hair had been pulled back into a complicated waterfall braid, as the other half hung down my shoulders in soft waves. The mask at my eyes was the same color but beaded heavily with gems.
Alina and the others wanted to go for something different, well Alina wanted to feel comfortable so she went with the safest option and wore something similar to Mal. Tamar the same. They all wore vibrant orange silks and red lacquered masks to resemble jackals.
I felt a surge of giddy excitement. The cloak resting over my shoulders was uncomfortably warm, and my face was already starting to itch beneath the mask, but I didn't care.
The street leading to the pickle king's mansion was clogged with carriages. We turned onto an alley near the convent so that we'd be better able to mix in with the performers at the servants' entrance.
Tamar carefully shifted her cloak as we descended from the coach. She and Mal were both carrying hidden pistols, and I knew that beneath all the orange silk, she had her twin axes strapped to each thigh.
"What if someone actually wants his fortune told?" I asked, tightening the laces of my mask and pulling the hood up.
"Just feed him the usual drivel," said Alina. "Beautiful women, unexpected wealth. Beware of the number eight."
The servants' entrance led past a steam-filled kitchen and into the house's back rooms. But as soon as we stepped inside a man dressed in what must have been the Gritzki livery seized Alina's arm.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" he said, giving a fierce shake on Alina's arm. I saw Tamar's hand go to her hip.
"I—"
"You four should already be circulating." He shoved us towards the main rooms of the house. "Don't spend too long with any single guest. And don't let me catch you drinking!"
We all nodded, and hurried into the ballroom. The mansion had been decorated to look like the most decadent Suli camp imaginable. The ceiling was hung with a thousand star-shaped lanterns. Silk-covered wagons were parked around the edges of the room in a glittering caravan, and fake bonfires glowed with dancing colored light. The terrace doors had been thrown open, and the night air hummed with the rhythmic clang of finger cymbals and the wail of violins.
I saw the real Suli fortune-tellers scattered throughout the crowd and realized what an eerie sight we must make in our jackal's masks, but the guests didn't seem to mind. Most of them were already well in their cups, laughing and shouting to one another in boisterous groups, gawking at the acrobats twirling from silk swings overhead. Some sat swaying in their chairs, having their fortunes told over golden urns of coffee.
Others ate at the long table that had been set up on the terrace, gorging on stuffed figs and bowls of pomegranate seeds, clapping along with the music.
Alina snuck me a little glass of kvas, and we found a bench in a shadowy corner of the terrace while Tamar took up her post a discreet distance away. The air was heavy with the scent of some night-blooming flower and, beneath that, the tang of lemon. I breathed deeply, feeling some of the exhaustion and fear of the last few weeks ease away. I wriggled my foot from my slipper and let my toes dig into the cool gravel.
Alina and Mal did the same, but he adjusted his hood to better hide his face and tipped up his mask, and leaned in to do the same with Alina's. He leaned into her. Their jackal masks bumped snouts.
She started to laugh.
"Next time, different costumes," he grumbled.
"Bigger hats?"
"Maybe we could just wear baskets over our heads," I said to them.
Two girls came swaying up to us. Tamar was by our side in an instant. Mal and Alina pushed their masks back down.
"Tell our fortunes!" the taller girl demanded, practically toppling over her friend.
Tamar shook her head, but Mal gestured to one of the little tables laid with blue enamel cups and a golden urn. The girl squealed and poured out a tiny amount of sludge-like coffee. The Suli told fortunes by reading the dregs at the bottom of the cup. She downed the coffee and grimaced.
Alina elbowed Mal. He rose and walked to the table. "Hmmm," he said, peering into the cup. "Hmmm."
The girl seized his arm. "What is it?"
He waved Alina closer. She peered over the cup.
"Is it bad?" the girl moaned.
"Eeet eeees.... gooooood," said Mal in the most outrageous Suli accent I'd ever heard.
The girl sighed in relief.
"You weeel meet a handsome stranger."
The girls giggled and clapped their hands.
"He weeel be very wicked man," Alina interjected.
I rose a brow at her from beneath my mask. Her accent was even worse than Mal's. If any real Suli overheard them, I'd probably run and hide and let the Suli deal with them.
"You must run from theees man."
"Oh," the girls sighed in disappointment.
"You must marry ugly man," Alina said. "Very fet." Alina held out her arms in front of her, indicating a giant belly. "He weeel make you heppy."
I heard Mal snort beneath his mask.
The girl sniffed. "I don't like this fortune," she said. "Let's go try another one." As they flounced away, two rather tipsy noblemen took their place.
One had a beaky nose and wobbly jowls. The other threw his coffee like he was gulping kvas and slammed the cup down on the table.
"Now," he slurred, twitching his bristly red mustache. "What've I got in store? And make it good?"
Mal pretended to study the cup. "You weeel come into a great fortune."
"Already have a great fortune. What else?"
"Uh..." Mal hedged. "Your wife weeel bear you three handsome sons."
His beak-nosed companion burst out laughing. "Then you'll know they aren't yours!" he bellowed.
I thought the other nobleman would take offense, but instead, he guffawed, his red face turning even redder.
"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."
I grimaced beneath my mask. I had a sneaking suspicion they were talking about Nikolai.
"Oh dear," I butted in, yanking the cup from Mal's hand. "Oh dear, so sad."
"What's that?" said the nobleman, still laughing.
"You weeel go bald," I said, my accent even worse than Alina's. "Very bald."
He stopped laughing, and his meaty hand strayed to his already thinning red hair.
"And you," I said, pointing at his friend. Alina gave my foot a warning nudge, but I ignored her. "You weeel catch the korpa."
"The what?"
"The korpa!" I declared in dire tones. "Your private parts weeel shrink to nothink!"
He paled. His throat worked. "But—"
At that moment there was shouting from inside the ballroom and a loud crash as someone upended a table. I saw men shoving each other.
"I think it's time to leave," said Tamar, edging us away from the commotion.
I was about to protest when the fight broke out in earnest. People started pushing and shoving, crowding the doors to the terrace. The music had stopped, and it looked like some of the fortune-tellers had gotten into the scramble too. Over the crowd, I saw one of the silken wagons collapse. Someone came hurtling toward us and crashed into the noblemen. The coffee urn toppled off the table, and the little blue cups followed.
"Let's go," said Mal, reaching for his pistol. "Our the back."
Tamar led the way, axes already in hand. We followed her down the stairs, but as we stepped off the terrace, I heard another horrible crash and a woman screaming. She was pinned beneath the banquet table.
Mal holstered his pistol. "Get them to the carriage," he shouted to Tamar. "I'll catch up!"
"Mal—" Alina started.
"Go! I'll be right behind you." He pushed into the crowd, toward the trapped woman.
Tamar tugged me and Alina down the garden stairs and up a path that led back along the side of the mansion, to the street. It was dark away from the glowing lanterns of the party. Alina let a soft light blossom to guide our steps.
"Don't," said Tamar to Alina. "This could be a distraction. You'll give away our location."
She let the light fade, and a second later, we heard a scuffle, a loud oof, and then— silence.
"Tamar?"
I looked back toward the party, hoping to hear Mal's approach. My heart started to pound. I looked back over to Alina, she nodded and raised her hands. Forget giving away our location, we weren't just going to stand around in the dark. Then I heard a gate creak and strong hands took hold of me. I let out a yelp but before Alina could turn, the attacker's other hand took hold of her. We were yanked through the hedge.
Alina sent light searing out in a hot flame, whilst I summoned up water from the fountain not too far away, it towered over our heads, twisting and glistening off of Alina's light.
We were in a stone courtyard of the main garden, bordered on all sides by yew hedges, and we were not alone.
I smelled him before I saw him— turned earth, incense, mildew. The smell of a grave. The Apparat stepped out of the shadows. The priest was just as I remembered him, with the same wiry black beard and relentless gaze. He still wore the brown robes of his station, but the King's double eagle was gone from his chest, replaced by a sunburst wrought in gold thread.
"Stay where you are," Alina warned.
He bowed low. "Alina Starkov, Sol Koroleva. I mean you no harm."
He looked over to me and smirked silently and then to the water floating overhead. "Freya Julikov. Voda Koroleva."
"Where's Tamar? If she's been hurt—"
"Your guards will not be harmed, but I beg you two to listen."
"What do you want? How did you know we would be here?"
"The faithful are everywhere, Voda Koroleva."
"Don't call me that!"
"Every day your holy army grows, drawn by the promise of your light and water. They wait only for you two to lead them."
"Our army? We've seen pilgrims camped outside the city walls— poor, weak, hungry, all desperate for the scraps of hope you feed them."
"There are others. Soldiers."
"More people who think we are Saints because you've told them a lie?"
"It is no lie, Alina Starkov. You are Daughter of Keramzin. Reborn of the Fold."
"We didn't die!" I said furiously. "We survived because we escaped the Darkling, and we murdered an entire skiff of soldiers and Grisha to do it. Do you tell your followers that?"
"Freya Julikov. Daughter of Fjerda. Your people are suffering. Only you two can bring about the dawn of a new age, an age consecrated in holy fire."
His eyes were wild, the green so deep that almost went black, but I couldn't see his pupils. But was his madness real or part of some elaborate act?
"Just who will rule this new age?"
"You two of course. Sol Koroleva. Sankta Alina. Voda Koroleva. Sankta Freya."
"With you at our right hand? I read the book you gave me. Saints don't live long lives."
"Come with me, Alina and Freya."
"We're not going anywhere with you," Alina said stepping in front of me.
"You two are not strong enough to face the Darkling. I can change that."
Alina stilled in front of me. "Tell us what you know."
"Join me, and all will be revealed."
Alina advanced on him, "Where is the firebird?"
I was surprised by the anger in her voice. What was with the anger, was she feeling it just as I was lately?
The Apparat smiled, his gum black, his teeth crooked jumble. "Tell me, priest," Alina ordered, "or I'll cut you open right here, and your followers can try to pray you back together."
With a start, the anger indicated that she would in fact do it without hesitation. I suddenly felt very nauseated.
For the first time, he looked nervous. Had he expected a tame Saint?
He held up his hands placatingly.
"I do not know," he said. "I swear it. But when the Darkling left the Little Palace, he did not realize it would be for the last time. He left many precious things behind, things others believed long since destroyed."
"Morozova's journals? You have them?"
"Come with me, Alina Starkov. There are secrets buried deep."
Could he possibly be telling the truth? Or would he just hand us over to the Darkling?
"Alina! Freya!" Mal's voice sounded from somewhere on the other side of the hedge.
"We're here!" Alina called.
Mal burst into the courtyard, pistol drawn. Tamar was right behind him. She'd lost one of her axes, and there was blood smeared over the front of her cloak. The Apparat turned in a musty whirl of cloth and slipped between the bushes.
"Wait!" Alina cried, already moving to follow.
Tamar bolted past us in a furious roar, diving into the hedges to give chase.
"We need him alive!" Alina shouted at her disappearing back.
"Are you two all right?" Mal panted.
Alina took hold of his sleeve. "Mal, I think he has Morozova's journals."
"Did he hurt you two?"
"We can handle an old priest," I said and all the water overhead came crashing down behind us.
Mal jumped and looked over his shoulder as Alina asked. "Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes, I heard you. I thought you were in danger."
"I wasn't. I—"
But Tamar was already striding back to us, 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."
"Saints," Alina swore.
She hung her head. "Forgive me."
I'd never seen her so downcast. "Tamar, it's all right," I said.
I peered down the row of hedges. I could still hear shouting from the party far behind us, and somewhere in the dark, the bells of the convent began to ring.
I sighed. "We should go."
We found our driver waiting on the narrow side street where we'd left him. The ride back to the palace was tense.
"That brawl was no coincidence," said Mal.
"No," agreed Tamar, dabbing at the ugly cut on her chin. "He knew we would be there."
"How?" Mal demanded. "No one else knew we were going. Did you tell Nikolai?"
"Nikolai has nothing to do with this," I said.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because he has nothing to gain." I pressed my finger to my temple. "Maybe someone saw us leaving the palace."
"How did the Apparat get into Os Alta without being seen? How did he even know we would be at that party?"
"We don't know," Alina replied. "He said the faithful are everywhere. Maybe one of the servants overheard."
"We got lucky tonight," said Tamar. "This could have been much worse."
"We were never in any real danger," Alina insisted. "He just wanted to talk."
"What did he say?"
Alina gave her the barest description, but didn't mention Morozova's journals. I hadn't talked to anyone except Alina and Mal about them, and Tamar knew too much about amplifiers already.
"He raised some kind of army," Alina finished. "People who believe that we've risen from the dead, who think we have some kind of Holy Power."
"How many?" Mal asked.
"We don't know. And we don't know what he intends to do with them. March them against the King? Send them to fight the Darkling's horde? We're already responsible for the Grisha. We don't want the burden of any army of helpless otkazat'sya."
"We're not all quite so feeble," said Mal, an edge to his voice.
"I didn't... I just meant he's using these people. He's exploiting their hope."
"Is it any different than Nikolai parading you two from village to village?"
"Nikolai isn't telling people that we're Immortal or can perform miracles."
"No," Mal said. "He's just letting them believe it."
"Why are you so ready to attack him?" I asked.
"Why are you so quick to defend him?"
I turned away, tired, exasperated, unable to think past the whir of thought in my head. The lamplit streets of the upper town slid by the coach's window. We passed the rest of the ride in silence.
❂♕
Back at the Little Palace, Alina and I changed our clothes while Mal and Tamar filled Tolya in on what happened. I was sitting on the bed when Alina knocked. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, looking around.
"This room is so depressing. I thought you were going to redecorate."
I shrugged. I had too many other things to worry about, and I'd almost gotten used to the room's quiet gloom.
"Do you believe he has the journals?" Alina asked.
"I'm surprised he even knew they existed."
She crossed to the bed, and I bent my knees to make room for her.
"Tamar's right," she said, settling by my feet. "That could have been much worse."
I sighed. "So much for seeing the sights."
"I shouldn't have suggested it."
I nodded my head. "You know, Freya. We don't spend much time together anymore."
I hummed and said, "Well we're always busy doing the exact same things, just in different areas."
Alina nodded. "Come to target practice with me and Mal tomorrow," she said. "Down by the lake."
"I can't. Nikolai and I are meeting with a delegation of Kerch bankers. They want to see the Tidemaker before they guarantee a loan to the Crown."
"Tell them you're sick."
I let out a sigh, "Alina, Grisha don't get sick remember?"
"Well, tell him you're busy," she said.
"I can't."
"Other Grisha take time to—"
"We aren't other Grisha," I said, more harshly than I intended.
"I know," she said wearily. She let out a long breath. "Saints, I hate this place."
I blinked, startled by the vehemence in her voice. "You do?"
"I hate the parties. I hate the people, well the Queen and King, and they're snobby nobles men and all."
"Oh—"
"Sometimes I feel like I don't belong here like I belong back at Keramzin with Mal."
I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Alina you belong here just as much as I do."
"I'm supposed to be the Sun Summoner a leader, but I feel like I've not done as much work like you have. I feel like I've been making you do everything so that I can go venture away with Mal."
"Alina—"
"Do you know I actually miss being on the run? Even that filthy little boarding house in Cofton and working in the warehouse. At least then I felt like I was actually doing something other than being all handsy dandy with Mal."
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling a weird weight on my shoulders. "Alina you do just as much work around here as a leader as I do. You've attended much more meetings in the past week than I have. The difference is I'm just around Nikolai more."
Alina stared at me. "The meetings aren't what's bothering me."
"Then what is it?"
"It's the fact that you've done more for me in the past months that we've known each other than I have for you."
I let out a breath. "I choose to help you, okay? I wanted to help you find out more about the Firebird. All this—" I said, gesturing to a table of books. "Is because I've chosen to help you."
Alina gulped. "But I owe you. I want to do something in return for the things you've done for me."
I shook my head. "You don't have to do that. You'll never have to do that, Alina."
"But Freya—"
"Nope," I said. "I don't want to hear it. You are like a sister to me, Alina. Sisters don't have to repay each other, they just have to let each other know that they are there for each other and to be honest with each other. And that's what I'm doing... you matter more to me than anything so please. Don't feel like you haven't done enough."
Alina let out a breath— and behind her eyes, you could see her stubbornness peeking through. "Alright, but don't expect me to not be around more."
I let out a laugh and swung my legs off the bed and stood. "Come here."
Alina walked up to me and wrapped her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder.
"How touching."
Standing behind Alina was the Darkling. I stiffened.
Alina pulled back. "What?"
"Nothing. I just..." I trailed off. I didn't know what to say.
The Darkling was still there. "Tell her you see me." He said.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Alina dropped her hands and stepped away from me. "Freya, what's wrong?"
I shook my head. Why now? Of all times did he have to make an appearance.
"I guess that's all I need to know," Alina said with a frown.
I reached for her, "Alina—"
"Didn't you just tell me sisters are supposed to be honest with each other?" Alina said fiercely.
"Don't feel too bad, Alina." said the Darkling. "After all even sisters have their darkest secrets."
"That's not it—" I protested.
"Then what is it, Freya? Tell me! Be honest!"
I opened my mouth to say something while my eyes drifted back to the Darkling. He was smirking. He's enjoying this.
"I—"
"If you can't even be honest with me, then what's the point of working together?"
"Alina! You don't understand!"
"Then make me understand!"
"The Darkling... he.. he.." I couldn't find the words.
Alina turned on her heels and strode towards the door. "Come to me when you are ready, to be honest with me."
Alina slammed the door behind her.
I stood there, staring at the closed doors, trembling. I reached out and touched the bone handle.
You can fix this, I told myself. You can make this right. But I just stood there frozen.
I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble as tears swelled up in my eyes. An ache had started between my ribs, a hard bright shard of pain that lodged beneath my sternum, pressing right against my heart.
Not Alina too, not after losing Genya, after losing Rebecca and Aliya.
I didn't hear the Darkling move; I only knew when he was beside me. His long fingers brushed the hair back from my neck and resting on my cheek. When his lips kissed my forehead and pulled me to him, his lips and body were cold.
『Authors note』
Very chapter yet! Not because of the fight but because it's decent writing.
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