The Starry Sky - A Darkling/General Kirigan Prequel

3

Shit shit shit shit shit. Shit. Every saint Anna had ever prayed to was laughing at her right now - especially that good for nothing, evil little arse, Nikolai. Anna had never thought that wanting to die could be instantaneous, in fact she'd always said it was an overreaction, but now, now she knew that was so inexplicably untrue. If the ground could open up around her and swallow her down she may just be able to get over her embarrassment within the next century. But no. There she was, stood stock still, staring into the glassy eyes of the man she'd been thinking about (blaming for ruining sunsets) the night before. Of all the moments in her life, she knew this would be the one she'd never forget - and she was about to make it so much worse. Without comprehension her mouth had opened and the words fell out past her lips and into the air, growing around her, consuming the silence;

"Your parents must hate you."

The quietness was smothering. She could hear absolutely everything, primarily the beating of her own heart, the flowing of her own blood. The man looked at her. Anna looked at him. And then, something happened that she never thought she'd ever live to see - The Black Heretic laughed. His smile was bright and warm; it melted the cold look on his face in milliseconds. And the laugh was rich, and beautiful, and heavy. He closed his eyes briefly and when they opened again they were alight, as if this was the first time he'd ever laughed. Maybe it was. Around the table bubbles of laughter rose, although the Fjerdans seemed to be laughing out of confusion. Anna knew a blush had spread over her face - she didn't know what to do. So she continued to watch the man, unfortunately something that seemed to deepen the fervour of her blush.

"I imagine they do." He smiled, his beautiful stormy eyes once more meeting her sapphire ones, any second she expected darkness to fill her skull or whatever he could do. She could feel the anger boiling in his body, as if he were about to rage at her. But Anna wasn't a prophet, and his fury never came. She was dumbstruck, looking at him as if he were the only person she'd ever seen. She hadn't comprehended his words, which led to,

"I'm sorry."

"I imagine it's no fault of yours." Anna quirked a brow at his words. The Heretic quirked a brow at Anna.

"Pardon?"

"I said, I imagine it's no fault of yours that my parents aren't fond of me. Unless you have something to confess." He spoke in a joking tone, but Anna was too lost. Frantic Anna had been bested - she had absolutely nothing to do, so she shook her head and let her feet carry her across the sticky wooden floor, into the kitchen.

***

Time slowed to a crawl as Anna sat on the floor in the kitchen, staring blankly ahead at a barrel of ale. Every so often Olga, Emerens or Igor would stand and watch her, like she was some mythical beast, waiting for her to snap or breakdown. But Anna was resolved not to move or react. It was now that the brute of what she did last night hit her; her airways closed up, her nose began to run, and despite being in the sweltering hot kitchen she was freezing cold. So she just sat for what felt like hours, watching dishes come in and out of the kitchen. It felt like a fever dream, not only because she was getting ill, and she'd just spoken to the most powerful Grisha ever, but Olga had gone quiet, and nobody was telling her to get to work. They all seemed comfortable to let her wither away on the flagstone floor.

The kitchen had only one window, and it irked Anna beyond belief that after what felt like hours it was still daylight outside. The party in the dining hall were still having their conversations, the crowds of regulars hadn't come in for the evening yet, she hadn't even heard Olga begin to shout at customers.

"What time is it?" Anna spoke in a whisper, only loud enough for Igor (who was watching her at the time) to hear.

"Just about to turn two bells." He said. Anna looked at him imploringly, she hoped it was a lie, but he just nodded and turned back to a pot that was cooking over the fire, "Olga says that the man wants to speak to you again, he's asked for you to find him when you're done hiding." Anna couldn't believe her luck, she also couldn't believe that she'd been so unaware she hadn't seen Olga come in and tell Igor this. She was ill and tired, and now the Black Heretic wanted an audience with her. Every fibre in her being tried to channel regular Anna, who was confident and in control, but sometimes she feared that this Anna had been lost somewhere between the sea and the Permafrost. More than anything she was scared that this Anna would never come back.