The Starry Sky - A Darkling/General Kirigan Prequel

11

Days seemed to blend into weeks into months at the Little Palace. The world buzzed and moved around Anna like a swarm of bees, peaceful but poised to attack. They were laborious times, mainly consisting of paperwork, but rays of light shot through in moments: getting to see all the Grisha wear their Kefta for the first time, welcoming new convoys of people arrive, watching the Little Palace be built up around her.

Under the guise of night she sometimes escaped to Aleksander's room, for nothing more than the comfort of another person. This meant finding out the Oprichniki post times, and trying to figure out who was most likely to sleep on the job and when. It took a lot of staying up late to do work, a load that had grown significantly over the couple of months, but she considered it worth it when she was buried in the nest of his arms. There were stolen kisses on the rare occasion, brief but memorable, taken after long days or when their paths crossed. They were always tender, as if it were a release for both of them. There were never any rough moves, just unwavering passion that refused to evolve into more.

But she didn't need touch to feel safe. After she'd screamed at Tuya and Ade and most of the people she considered friends, she managed to regain her composure enough to accept apologies without breaking anything. She didn't know if she should apologise to them in turn, for lying or yelling, and supposed that a lot of people would understand her anger, but she didn't want to get on anyone's bad side. Her apologies came days later, in the form of uniforms. Gavril ensured that the first person to get a Kefta would be Anastasia. Hers was purple with charcoal grey embroidery around the hems and sleeves; the design for the Durasts. The next person Anna ensured got theirs was Ade, his was blood red with deep black detailing, denoting his status as a Heartrender. Her and Aleksander had briefly spoken about the Oprichniki having their own uniform, but the details were still undecided. The final offerings of peace were to Tuya, Oni and Klara. Despite Tuya and Klara not being Grisha , Anna wanted them to have their own Kefta, as they worked closely with her in the Little Palace. She used the colours of their livery dresses, snow white and burning gold, giving Oni the option to have her own Kefta in either Corporalki red or Etherealki blue, but she declined.

Anna herself had spent significantly longer trying to design something for Aleksander. Black as a base colour was obvious, but she was stuck on the embroidery. Silver like stars? Gold for power? Black for secrecy? And what for her? Would she allow herself a Kefta? On most mornings she slept in late, often secluded in the black silk hangings of his bed, thinking to herself. It was the morning of her twenty-first birthday, a bleak midwinter day, when she ran to Gavril to put in her order. It hadn't been a massive revelation, it was more so just the easiest option. He would have one of each idea, as would she and Baghra. The only differences being the patterns of embroidery, including moons and stars on his and suns on hers.

He hadn't asked about his own Kefta when everyone else around the Little Palace began to wear theirs like badges of pride. Maybe he didn't even expect to get one. Let alone three. But Anna knew that theirs would take longer to arrive because the Alkemi had had to make special dyes for them. It had taken weeks for them to come up with a black so true it looked like a clear night sky, one that seemed to suck in everything around it. The cold outside was melting into spring when the three women arrived at Anna's rooms, all wearing their matching Kefta, carrying six boxes in their arms.

She'd nearly cried when she'd seen them. The folds of heavy wool and tufts of thick fur merging together to form an almost floor length coat. The blazing suns on her sleeves would eventually become ironic, but in the moment the delicate lines of twining branches, weaving around the pointed sunbeams were nothing more than pieces of art. So beautiful that it would take hundreds of years for Aleksander to forget about them, in fact, he'd only part with the memory in death - if then. There'd be a time when he'd try and see the Kefta again, the black one with suns on the sleeves, on another girl. But it would take time. For now, they were Anna's suns, and she wriggled into the trousers and shirt and boots and Kefta as fast as she could, eager to present the Black Heretic with his.