Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Eleven: Alina Starkov

Eleven

Alina Starkov

Alina had never been particularly fashionable. Having spent most of her school career wearing uniforms, she hadn't exactly had the chance to embrace it. Nikolai was more of a fashion snob than she was, and after spending the day with Baghra, she was glad that it had never been anything she was obsessed with. Fashion hurt. After spending the whole of morning and afternoon being poked and prodded, Alina finally managed to convince Baghra she had enough dresses.

Alina managed to sneak away while the stylist was packing up her things. But the minute she was up in her room, there was a knocking on the door. "Alina?" Stella called.

Alina sighed as she leaned against the door. All she wanted to do was to hide away from everyone. If it was Baghra, she might try climbing out of the window. For someone who had seemed sweet the night before, she had as much a devious nature as her son did.

"Yes?" Alina called.

"I've been told to come help dress you for dinner."

"No. No. No more dressing. Besides, I'm not going to dinner remember. I'm on a hunger strike."

"I'm afraid that won't work," said Stella, "can I come in?"

Alina reluctantly moved away from the door.

In her hands, Stella held a slinky, black dress. "I've been informed that you are supposed to wear this to dinner."

Alina scowled. "Informed by who?"

"Lord Morozova texted Baghra," she said, "and Baghra texted him pictures of all of the designs that the stylists had."

Alina sighed. "Of course, he did. Of course, he picked out the dress. He has decided that I belong with him so I am incapable of wearing anything that he hasn't chosen. Well, I'm not wearing that dress."

Stella raised an eyebrow. "You're not?"

"No," she said.

Alina went to the side of her bed and rummaged through her backpack. "This."

She pulled out a dress that was sapphire blue and decorated with golden swirls on it. "I'm wearing this."

"What happened to the hunger strike?" Stella said.

"If I'm forced into going, I'm not going in his colors. I'm completely capable of making my own choices, and the sooner he realizes that I'm not going to let him be bullied the better I am."

Stella looked at her warily. "Are you certain that's a good idea? Lord Morozova..."

"Is an arse?" Alina said.

Stella hid a smile. "No. Lord Morozova is incredibly particular. He won't like it if you don't do what he wants."

"Well, he's going to have to learn that I'm not someone that's going to cower just because Lord Morozova commands it. I am not one of his soldiers. He might as well get used to me being in defiance."

"He might put you in the brig. Or the dungeon."

"Let him," Alina said, "if it means that I don't have to be anywhere near him, I'm happy about it."

"It just might be easier to simply do as he wants."

"I don't want things easy for him. I want him to be miserable, until he decides to give up this stupid wedding."

"Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Until you do, I think that you should wear your hair up and maybe some silver eyeshadow."

"Help me sneak out the window," Alina begged.

"You've a wonderful sense of humor, Miss Starkov. You will need it if you are going to survive being here."

Alina sighed. "Fine. Silver eyeshadow would be nice."

Stella smiled. "Take a seat, and I'll help you with your hair and makeup."

"Let me get changed first." Alina changed in the bathroom, then she came out and sat down at the vanity, and Stella helped her get ready for the evening. She didn't like the idea of spending a whole evening alone with Lord Morozova, but it was nothing compared to spending the whole rest of her life with the man.

After Stella was done, Alina looked at the mirror.

She stared in awe. "I look...."

"Is it too much?" Stella said.

"No," Alina said, "you did amazing. I've never seen myself look like this before. I look....is it egotistical if I say beautiful?"

Stella smiled. "No. It's just right."

There was a knock on the door. "Miss Starkov, are you presentable?" He was back, and she was going to have to spend the evening with him. Alina's stomach clenched.

"Don't leave me," she said.

Stella smiled. "You'll be fine, Miss Starkov."

Stella opened the door, and she slipped out.

The door was caught by a hand and Lord Morozova stood in the doorway. "Are you ready for dinner?"

"Yes," she said.

He stepped back and took her in. "Didn't Stella show you the dress that I picked out?"

"The one that looked like it was a for a funeral? Yes, I refused to wear it."

"What on earth for?" he said. "It was designer. The finest Ravkaan---"

"Black isn't my color," said Alina, "and you aren't my type."

He smirked. "I am everyone's type, and you'll find that out soon enough. Come on Miss Starkov, you'll find that I don't like lateness."

He offered her his arm.

She swept from the room without taking it.