Shadow and Bone gt-1

by Leigh Bardugo

  “What about the other one?” I asked. I knew the King and Queen had a younger son, but I’d never actually seen him.

  “Sobachka?”

  “You can’t call a royal prince ‘puppy,’” I laughed.

  “That’s what everyone calls him.” She lowered her voice. “And there are rumors that he isn’t strictly royal.”

  I nearly choked on my tea. “No!”

  “Only the Queen knows for sure. He’s a bit of a black sheep anyway. He insisted on doing his military service in the infantry, then he apprenticed to a gunsmith.”

  “And he’s never at court?”

  “Not in years. I think he’s off studying shipbuilding or something equally dull. He’d probably get along well with David,” she added sourly.

  “What do you two talk about, anyway?” I asked curiously. I still didn’t quite understand Genya’s fascination with the Fabrikator.

  She sighed. “The usual. Life. Love. The melting point of iron ore.” She wound a curl of bright red hair around her finger, and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “He’s actually quite funny when he lets himself be.”

  “Really?”

  Genya shrugged. “I think so.”

  I patted her hand reassuringly. “He’ll come around. He’s just shy.”

  “Maybe I should lie down on a table in the workroom and wait to see if he welds something to me.”

  “I think that’s the way most great love stories begin.”

  She laughed, and I felt a sudden niggle of guilt. Genya talked so easily about David, but I’d never confided in her about Mal.

  That’s because there’s nothing to confide, I reminded myself harshly and added more sugar to my tea.

  ONE QUIET AFTERNOON when the other Grisha had ventured out of Os Alta, Genya convinced me to sneak into the Grand Palace, and we spent hours looking through the clothes and shoes in the Queen’s dressing room. Genya insisted that I try on a pale pink silk gown studded with riverpearls, and when she laced me up in it and stuck me in front of one of the giant golden mirrors, I had to look twice.

  I’d learned to avoid mirrors. They never seemed to show me what I wanted to see. But the girl standing next to Genya in the glass was a stranger. She had rosy cheeks and shiny hair and… a shape. I could have stared at her for hours. I suddenly wished good old Mikhael could see me. “Sticks” indeed, I thought smugly.

  Genya caught my eye in the mirror and grinned.

  “Is this why you dragged me in here?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I just thought you might want to get a good look at yourself, that’s all.”

  I swallowed the embarrassing lump in my throat and gave her an impulsive hug. “Thanks,” I whispered. Then I gave her a little shove. “Now get out of the way. It’s impossible to feel pretty with you standing next to me.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon trying on dresses and goggling at ourselves in the mirror—two activities I never would have expected to enjoy. We lost track of time, and Genya had to help me scramble out of an aquamarine ball gown and back into my kefta so that I could hurry down to the lake for my evening lesson with Baghra. I ran all the way but I was still late, and she was furious.

  The evening sessions with Baghra were always the hardest, but she was particularly tough on me that night.

  “Control!” she snapped as the weak wave of sunlight that I’d summoned flickered on the lakeshore. “Where is your focus?”

  At dinner, I thought but didn’t say. Genya and I had gotten so caught up in the distractions of the Queen’s wardrobe that we’d forgotten to eat, and my stomach was growling.

  I centered myself and the light bloomed brighter, reaching out over the frozen lake.

  “Better,” she said. “Let the light do the work for you. Like calls to like.”

  I tried to relax and let the light call to itself. To my surprise, it surged across the ice, illuminating the little island in the middle of the lake.

  “More!” Baghra demanded. “What’s stopping you?”

  I dug deeper and the circle of light swelled past the island, bathing the whole lake and the school on the opposite shore in gleaming sunlight. Though there was snow on the ground, the air around us shone bright and heavy with summer heat. My body thrummed with power. It was exhilarating, but I could feel myself tiring, bumping up against the limits of my abilities.

  “More!” Baghra shouted.

  “I can’t!” I protested.

  “More!” she said again, and there was an urgency in her voice that sounded an alarm inside of me and caused my focus to falter. The light wavered and slipped from my grasp. I scrambled for it but it rushed away from me, plunging the school, then the island, and then the lakeshore back into darkness.

  “It’s not enough.” His voice made me jump. The Darkling emerged from the shadows onto the lamplit path.

  “It might be,” said Baghra. “You see how strong she is. I wasn’t even helping her. Give her an amplifier and see what she can do.”

  The Darkling shook his head. “She’ll have the stag.”

  Baghra scowled. “You’re a fool.”

  “I’ve been called worse. Often by you.”

  “This is folly. You must reconsider.”

  The Darkling’s face went cold. “I must? You don’t give me orders anymore, old woman. I know what has to be done.”

  “I might surprise you,” I piped up. The Darkling and Baghra turned to stare at me. It was almost like they’d forgotten I was there. “Baghra’s right. I know I can do better. I can work harder.”

  “You’ve been on the Shadow Fold, Alina. You know what we’re up against.”

  I felt suddenly stubborn. “I know that I’m getting stronger every day. If you give me a chance—”

  Again, the Darkling shook his head. “I can’t take that kind of a chance. Not with Ravka’s future at stake.”

  “I understand,” I said numbly.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Without Morozova’s stag, I’m pretty much useless.”

  “Ah, so she’s not as stupid as she looks,” cackled Baghra.

  “Leave us,” said the Darkling with surprising ferocity.

  “We’ll all suffer for your pride, boy.”

  “I won’t ask you again.”

  Baghra gave him a disgusted glower, then turned on her heel and marched back up the path to her cottage.

  When her door slammed shut, the Darkling regarded me in the lamplight. “You look well,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, my eyes sliding away. Maybe Genya could teach me to take a compliment.

  “If you’re returning to the Little Palace, I’ll walk with you,” he said.

  For a while, we strolled in silence along the lakeshore, past the deserted stone pavilions. Across the ice, I could see the lights of the school.

  Finally, I had to ask. “Has there been any word? Of the stag?”

  He pressed his lips together. “No,” he said. “My men think that the herd may have crossed into Fjerda.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

  He stopped abruptly. “I don’t think you’re useless, Alina.”

  “I know,” I said to the tops of my boots. “Not useless. Just not exactly useful.”

  “No Grisha is powerful enough to face the Fold. Not even me.”

  “I get it.”

  “But you don’t like it.”

  “Should I? If I can’t help you destroy the Fold, then what exactly am I good for? Midnight picnics? Keeping your feet warm in the winter?”

  His mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Midnight picnics?”

  I couldn’t smile back. “Botkin told me that Grisha steel is earned. It’s not that I’m not grateful for all of this. I am, truly. But I don’t feel like I’ve earned any of it.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry, Alina. I asked you to trust me and I haven’t delivered.” />
  He looked so weary that I felt instantly contrite. “It’s not that—”

  “It’s true.” He took another deep breath and ran a hand over his neck. “Maybe Baghra’s right, as much as I hate to admit it.”

  I cocked my head to one side. “You never seem fazed by anything. Why do you let her bother you so much?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I think she’s good for you.”

  He started in surprise. “Why?”

  “Because she’s the only one around here who isn’t scared of you or constantly trying to impress you.”

  “Are you trying to impress me?”

  “Of course,” I laughed.

  “Do you always say exactly what you’re thinking?”

  “Not even half the time.”

  Then he laughed too, and I remembered how much I liked the sound. “Then I guess I should count myself lucky,” he said.

  “What’s Baghra’s power, anyway?” I asked, the thought occurring to me for the first time. She was an amplifier like the Darkling, but he had his own power, too.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “I think she was a Tidemaker. No one around here is old enough to remember.” He looked down at me. The cold air had put a flush in his cheeks, and the lamplight shone in his gray eyes. “Alina, if I tell you that I still believe we can find the stag, would you think I’m mad?”

  “Why would you care what I think?”

  He looked genuinely baffled. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I do.”

  And then he kissed me.

  It happened so suddenly that I barely had time to react. One moment, I was staring into his slate-colored eyes, and the next, his lips were pressed to mine. I felt that familiar sense of surety melt through me as my body sang with sudden heat and my heart jumped into a skittery dance. Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back. He looked as surprised as I felt.

  “I didn’t mean… ,” he said.

  At that moment, we heard footsteps and Ivan rounded the corner. He bowed to the Darkling and then to me, but I caught a little smirk playing on his lips.

  “The Apparat is getting impatient,” he said.

  “One of his less appealing traits,” replied the Darkling smoothly. The look of surprise had vanished from his face. He bowed to me, completely composed, and without another glance, he and Ivan left me standing in the snow.

  I stood there for a long moment and then made my way back to the Little Palace in a daze. What just happened? I touched my fingers to my lips. Did the Darkling really just kiss me? I avoided the domed hall and went straight to my room, but once I was there, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I rang for a dinner tray and then sat picking at my food. I was desperate to talk to Genya, but she slept at the Grand Palace every night, and I didn’t have the courage to go try to find her. Finally, I gave up and decided to go down to the domed hall after all.

  Marie and Nadia had returned from their sleighing excursion and were sitting by the fire, drinking tea. I was shocked to see Sergei sitting next to Marie, his arm looped through hers. Maybe there’s something in the air, I thought in amazement.

  I sat sipping tea with them, asking about their day and their trip to the countryside, but I had trouble keeping my mind on the conversation. My thoughts kept wandering back to the feel of the Darkling’s lips on mine and the way he’d looked standing in the lamplight, his breath a white cloud in the cold night air, that stunned expression on his face.

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so when Marie suggested going to the banya, I decided to join them. Ana Kuya had always told us that the banya was barbaric, an excuse for peasants to drink kvas and engage in wanton behavior. But I was beginning to realize that old Ana had been a bit of a snob.

  I sat in the steam for as long as I could bear the heat and then plunged, squealing, into the snow with the others, before running back inside to do it all over again. I stayed until long past midnight, laughing and gasping, trying to clear my head.

  When I stumbled back to my room, I fell into bed, my skin damp and pink, my hair in wet tangles. I felt flushed and boneless, but my mind was still whirring. I focused and summoned a warm wash of sunlight, making it dance in slivers across the painted ceiling, letting the sure rush of power soothe my nerves. Then the memory of the Darkling’s kiss blew through me and rattled my concentration, scattering my thoughts and making my heart swoop and dive like a bird borne aloft by uncertain currents.

  The light shattered, leaving me in darkness.

  CHAPTER 14

  AS WINTER DREW to a close, talk turned to the King and Queen’s fete at the Grand Palace. The Grisha Summoners were expected to put on a demonstration of their powers to entertain the nobles, and much time was spent discussing who would perform and what would make the most impressive showing.

  “Just don’t call it ‘performing,’” Genya warned. “The Darkling can’t stand it. He thinks the winter fete is a giant waste of Grisha time.”

  I thought he might have a point. The Materialki workshops buzzed morning and night with orders from the palace for cloth and gems and fireworks. The Summoners spent hours at the stone pavilions honing their “demonstrations.” Given that Ravka was at war and had been for over a hundred years, it all seemed a little frivolous. Still, I hadn’t been to many parties, and it was hard not to get caught up in the talk of silks and dances and flowers.

  Baghra had no patience with me. If I lost focus for even a moment, she’d smack me with her stick and say, “Dreaming of dancing with your dark prince?”

  I ignored her but, too often, she was right. Despite my best efforts, I was thinking of the Darkling. He’d disappeared once again, and Genya told me that he’d left for the north. The other Grisha speculated that he would have to put in an appearance at the winter fete, but no one could be sure. Again and again, I found myself on the verge of telling Genya about the kiss, but I always stopped just as the words were on my lips.

  You’re being ridiculous, I told myself sternly. It didn’t mean anything. He probably kisses a lot of Grisha girls. And why would the Darkling have any interest in you when there are people like Genya and Zoya around? But if all those things were true, I didn’t want to know. As long as I kept my mouth shut, the kiss was a secret that the Darkling and I shared, and I wanted it to stay that way. All the same, some days it took everything in me not to stand up in the middle of breakfast and shout, “The Darkling kissed me!”

  If Baghra was disappointed in me, it was nothing compared to my disappointment in myself. As hard as I pushed, my limitations were becoming obvious. At the end of every lesson, I kept hearing the Darkling say, “It’s not enough,” and I knew he was right. He wanted to destroy the very fabric of the Fold, to turn back the black tide of the Unsea, and I simply wasn’t strong enough to manage that. I’d read enough to understand that this was the way of things. All Grisha had limits to their power, even the Darkling. But he’d said I was going to change the world, and it was hard to accept that I might not be up to the task.

  The Darkling had vanished, but the Apparat seemed to be everywhere. He lurked in hallways and by the path to the lake. I thought he might be trying to trap me alone again, but I didn’t want to listen to him rant about faith and suffering. I was careful never to let him catch me by myself.

  On the day of the winter fete, I was excused from my classes, but I went to see Botkin anyway. I was too anxious about my part in the demonstration and the prospect of seeing the Darkling again to just sit in my room. Being around the other Grisha didn’t help. Marie and Nadia talked constantly about their new silk kefta and what jewels they intended to wear, and David and the other Fabrikators kept accosting me to talk over the details of the demonstration. So I avoided the domed hall and went out to the training rooms by the stables.

  Botkin put me through my paces and made me drill using my mirrors. Without them, I was still pretty helpless against him. But with my gloves on, I could almost hold my own. Or so I thought. When the lesson was o
ver, Botkin admitted that he’d been pulling his punches.

  “Should not hit girl in face when she is going to party,” he said with a shrug. “Botkin will be fairer tomorrow.”

  I groaned at the prospect.

  I had a quick dinner in the domed hall and then, before anyone could corner me, I hurried up to my room, already thinking of my beautiful sunken tub. The banya was fun, but I’d had my share of communal bathing in the army, and privacy was still a novelty to me.

  When I’d had a long, luxurious soak, I sat down by the windows to dry my hair and watch night fall over the lake. Soon, the lamps lining the long drive to the palace would be lit as nobles arrived in their lavish coaches, each more ornate than the last. I felt a little prickle of excitement. A few months ago, I would have dreaded a night like this: a performance, playing dress-up with hundreds of beautiful people in their beautiful clothes. I was still nervous, but I thought it all might actually be… fun.

  I looked at the little clock on the mantel and frowned. A servant was supposed to be delivering my new silk kefta, but if she didn’t arrive soon, I was going to have to wear my old wool one or borrow something from Marie.

  Almost as soon as I’d had the thought, a knock sounded at the door. But it was Genya, her tall frame swathed in cream silk heavily embroidered in gold, her red hair piled high on her head to better display the massive diamonds dangling from her ears and the graceful turn of her neck.

  “Well?” she said, turning this way and that.

  “I loathe you,” I said with a smile.

  “I do look remarkable,” she said, admiring herself in the mirror over the basin.

  “You’d look even better with a little humility.”

  “I doubt that. Why aren’t you dressed?” she asked, taking a break from marveling at her own reflection to notice I was still in my robe.

  “My kefta hasn’t arrived.”

  “Oh, well, the Fabrikators have been a bit overwhelmed with the Queen’s requests. I’m sure it will get here. Now, sit down in front of the mirror so I can do your hair.”