"YOᑌ ᗰᗩY ᗯᗩᑎT to get some rest. It is a long ride to Amarat Jen," the broad, muscular soldier says as best he can in Ravkan.
My senses are on high alert. These are soldiers of the Queen who has been tormenting my family after all. But he isn't wrong. I should rest before I get to the capital city of Shu Han. Who knows what awaits me there.
Hesitantly, I curl up on the cushion and squeeze my eyes shut. All I see is the darkness of the back of my eyelids for what feels like forever. Then, finally, my body relaxes, and I float away into my own little dream world. Usually, my dreams are frantic, nightmares about my waking hours, but not this one. This dream is calm and peaceful. I find myself engulfed with black sheets. A warm fire crackles in the corner of the bedroom. I turn my head to the right and find Aleksander looking back at me.
"Saints, you're perfect," he mumbles into the curve of my neck as he tugs me closer to his comforting warmth.
The smile on my face grows as I wrap my arms around him. "I was about to say the same thing about you."
He chuckles. The sound makes my insides tingle. "I am many things, milaya, but perfect is not one of them."
I frown and then say, "You are perfect. At least to me."
I watch closely as his fingers curl around the hem of his nightshirt. He readjusts to pull it off, revealing a large, raised scar extending across his heart. Subconsciously, I know he doesn't really have a scar there, but in the dream, it seems so real, like I know it as intimately as the rest of him.
"I am not perfect," he asserts.
My index finger lightly traces the rough skin of his scar. I respond, "Your imperfections are what make you perfect." I hold up my left hand to display the round scar on my palm from so long ago when I hid my true self from the grisha tester. Our scars are what remind us of the past and how we were able to heal from it. To me, recovery from our past is far more important than trying to achieve the impossible idea of perfection. "If you were 'perfect,' you wouldn't be my equal."
"Hmm," he hums softly, bringing my body further into the curve of his. "Then, I suppose we are perfect for each other," he says. I smile in response. His arm tightens around me, lightly at first, then he continues to press me into him until there is no space between us. "That is until you chose to leave."
My eyes grow wide. "Aleksander, you know I didn't want to—" He holds me tighter, stealing the air from my lungs.
"You ran away from power like you always do. You left me and ran to an uncertain death at the hands of Shu Han. Why?"
"I want peace!" I rasp.
"Liar. You are just running from the burden that we both share. I have carried the burden of power, of eternity, for centuries, yet you can't even bear it for a year. You are weak."
You are weak.
.
.
.
I jolt awake with a gasp and immediately curse my dream. I knew it was too good to be true. Good dreams have been an unfamiliar concept to me for a very long time.
I shake my head to clear the wooziness of sleep and focus on the terrain outside the carriage. It looks quite different from that of before I fell asleep. It is also midday based on the sun's high position in the sky.
"We're nearly there," one of the soldier's gruff voices says, making my eyes dart to him.
"Nearly there? How?" I ask. "Amarat Jen is a three days journey." Even though I am under stress and more exhausted than I care to admit, three days is much too long to be asleep, naturally that is. That's when I see the white thread cloth in the third man's fist.
They glance at each other nervously. "We thought it would be best if you were. . . incapacitated for the trip. To eliminate possible interferences."
Oh," I mumble. I suppose I do not blame them for being cautious. To their knowledge, they have captured me unwillingly to take to their queen. Little do they know, my plan has finally come into place. Not that I wanted it to, I don't want to leave Aleksander and Amelia, but I cannot be the cause of another war.
The middle soldier's eyes scan me from head to toe. Then he says something in Shu. The third, more timid soldier translates for him. "He says you do not look as troubled as you should be to be the prisoner of Her Majesty, Queen Leyti."
I respond, "I am too weary to be troubled." It is partially true. I recall Aleksander's advice: use half-truths to disguise a lie. He was talking in the political sense even though he has used his own advice many times outside of politics. This I do not condone deception, it is rather useful at certain times. At least that is what I try to convince myself of.
The soldiers glance at each other at my response, again making me feel like they know something I do not. The third man leans in close to me across the coach and whispers, "Do not give up hope."
The first man slaps him on the back of the head as a not-so-subtle demand to be silent.
We all stare at each other in tense silence for what felt like an hour but was most likely only a few minutes. "We're here," the first man announces, his voice slicing harshly through the stillness and making me flinch.
To the left, through the small square window, I spot tall, golden-peaked turrets and sparkling white walls. It is nothing like I imagined. Ravkan propaganda does nothing to shed light on how beautiful Shu Han really is. Though I never knew her, I always wanted to see where my mother came from, and this is it. Too bad it is under grim circumstances.
I am pulled from my thoughts when the largest of the three soldiers grabs my arms, folding them behind my back, and pushes me forward out of the cab. Though he is not nearly as rough with me as he could be or as I expected he would be. The four of us begin treading up the stone path leading to the vast golden Palace of Amarat Jen. Unfortunately, what awaits within is not going to be as pretty as the outside.
The guards at the immensely sized Palace doors stiffen as we arrive. When we get closer, their eyes grow wide at the sight of me. They open the doors hastily, allowing us through. We walk straight through the vast entryway to a long throne room, and at the end sits Queen Leyti. I catch her eyebrows raise slightly in surprise before she composes herself. I am taken to stand before her by the strongest soldier while the other two bow and depart.
"Well, well," Leyti says laconically as she leans back in her throne. Her cold eyes examine me closely, not unlike Aleksander.
"You may go." She waves her hand at the remaining soldier.
"Are you sure, Your Majesty? She is the Sun Summoner. She is powerful—"
"She is nothing!" Leyti yells out, her mask of indifference finally faltering. "I am powerful! She is the one at my feet, is she not?"
The soldier answers quickly, "Yes, you are right, Your Majesty."
"Good. Now leave us."
He does not hesitate this time. The thud of his boots gets duller as he leaves the room at once, leaving only her and I.
Her eyes narrow as she looks down at me from her dais. "What game are you playing?"
"The only sick game here is yours," I grumble. "And I'm here to end it."
"Mm," she hums. "During our last talk, you seemed fairly set in your ways. You said you would never surrender yourself. What changed?"
My mind wanders to my train of thought a few days ago.
This world prayed for a Sun Summoner, but instead, they got me: A young girl unqualified to rule a country, burdened with infinite power.
I don't know what I'm doing.
You are weak.
"I realized that this fight needs to come to an end," I reply.
"Indeed, it does," she says with a hint of skepticism still dancing in her eyes. "And your loyal husband? Your Grisha daughter? You would so readily leave them behind?"
I swallow the painful lump in my throat. "I am here, giving myself to you. I don't know what else you want from me."
Slowly, she rises from the throne and descends the dais to meet my burning gaze. "What I want. . ." she hisses, "is for them all the forget about you. I want not only my people but also yours to let their allegiance to you dwindle to nothing."
"And you think just because you kill me, they will go running back to you?"
"Oh, I'm not going to kill you," she laughs coldly. "At first, I was going to use your power to my advantage, but that would risk my people merely fawning over you more, and killing you would make me the villain."
"So then what is your strategy?" I sneer at her.
She closes the comfortable distance between us so that her dark glass irises meet mine. "I want them to think you abandoned them. Little did I know, you would make that choice all on your own."
"I haven't abandoned them," I argue. "I am saving them from war."
"They won't see it that way. You left without so much as an explanation. They will forget about you with time, and I will regain my kingdom's trust while you rot in a dark cell. She snaps her fingers above her head and a swarm of guards come in, ushering me to my cell, or rather my lonely crypt. Everything inside me tells me to fight back, but my arms remain limp at my sides as we ascend the stairs of a tall turret leading to an empty room at the top and a small slit of a window on the far wall. The door slams shut behind me, submerging me into darkness save for the dense beam of light let in through the window.
I take a deep breath and take a seat on the cold stone floor. The war is over now. She got what she wanted. There will be no more killing in my name.
If that is the case, then why does this feel so terribly wrong?
***
Time alone forces my mind to wander, mainly to Aleksander. It used to be easy to block the use of our connection from either side, but now, with three amplifiers connecting us and an equivalent desire to see each other, it is nearly impossible. That is why I suddenly find myself within the walls of the Grand Palace. Aleksander is slumped over at his desk with his cheek resting on his palm, fast asleep.
He must have discovered that I am no longer in Ravka, or else he would be out searching still like he was when I last visited him.
Soft, repetitious breaths leave his lips, making the ebony hair hanging over his eyes flutter slightly.
I shouldn't be here. It only makes me regret leaving him more. But I had to for the sake of ending the war and all others that might be waged in my name.
However, there is a voice deep within that whispers, "I am unworthy."
Of him?
Of my crown?
Of the world's glorification?
I'm not sure. Maybe all of the above. And maybe I am running away, but what does it matter if it is a means to an end?
My hand finds its way to his silky hair, stroking his head lightly. A small sigh escapes his lips and he murmurs my name. "Alina."
Then, he startles awake when he realizes what he said, his wide eyes searching the room. "Alina!" he calls out, but I am already gone.
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