Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Seventeen: Alina Starkov

Seventeen

Alina Starkov

He didn't come back. It shouldn't have bothered her, but they had spent a pleasant morning and a pleasant evening together. Aside from the part where she had puked on his shoes. But the dinner hadn't been terrible, and then they had eaten breakfast. For a moment he wasn't Lord Morozova, he was simply Aleksander, and she was simply Alina. It had almost been like they were a normal couple getting to know each other. But then the letter came and the wall went up. He didn't even tell her what the letter was about.

She didn't know why it bothered her so much. Except it seemed like maybe they were finally connecting. Now, she felt like the trophy wife left at home to wait for the disinterested husband. She had long since eaten her breakfast, and the trays had been taken away. It was early evening, and she managed to get up long enough to pace by the window.

She opened the curtain and looked out to the street below. He had only just left but part of her hoped that somehow, he would come back. She didn't like the idea of being alone in the house without him. It felt strange. This wasn't her home. She was a stranger here.

The window rattled. Alina jumped. What in the saint's name was that? It rattled again, and she realized that there was a figure standing in underneath her window. She peered through the early evening shadows that had fallen, and realized that it was Mal.

"Alina!" he called.

She pushed open the window. "Mal," she called, "what are you doing outside?"

"He locked me out, remember?" he said. "I've been trying to get in since then. Can you let me in?"

Alina smiled. "Go to the front door. I'll let you in. You haven't been there this whole time, have you?"

"Well, I did go get food at one point, but your father paid me to protect you," he said, "and you're one of my oldest friends. Did you really think I was going to let you stay in the house of a man called The War Machine by yourself?"

She smiled. That was what she liked about Mal. He was always reliable. He'd been a scholarship kid at her boarding school, and he had been the only one who had understood what it was like not to come from money. Life with her mother had been completely different than life with her father. Mal had known what it was like not to always have the newest thing, to scrimp for money to go places, to get mocked for having to bring a sack lunch instead of paying at the cafeteria.

He kept her firmly planted in reality in a world where it was easy to get swept up in the fact that once, at a school dance, she'd slow danced with the Prince of Ravka in font of everyone as his date. If she ever felt her head getting a little too big by any of the attention Nikolai showed her, Mal was the first person she went to. It also helped that the two weren't exactly friendly, and she had been somewhat amused by watching the Prince of Ravka be jealous of her friendship with him.

Which might have been terrible, but Alina, despite her friendships with Princes, wasn't exactly the worlds most sought after. She thought that the only reason Nikolai had wanted to propose to her in the first place was because of her connections to her father, who through the businesses he ran, was one of the wealthiest men in Ravka.

Alina closed the window, and went down the stairs to let Mal in. She opened the door, and his eyes widened when he saw her.

"Saints!" he said. "What happened to your face? Alina, I swear if that bastard----"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

"He's forcing you to marry him. Of course, I should be ridiculous when I get up close and personal with my best friend and she's got a wound on her forehead."

"I fell," she said.

Mal tilted his head to the side. "Alina..."

She rolled her eyes. "I had wine," she said, "I had wine at dinner, I learned I cannot hold wine, I apparently told him I liked his rock-hard chest, I fell, and I puked on his shoes. That was my first date ever with my affianced bridegroom."

Mal laughed. "You puked on his shoes?"

She nodded.

"Alright then," he said, "I was worried I was going to have to kill him. Hey, is that your prom dress?"

She smiled. "He wanted me to wear black. I told him no."

He smirked. "That's my girl."

 Her heart fluttered, and she hated herself for it. "Come on, let's get you inside Oretsev. We'll get you something warm to drink and something to eat." She let him inside, and closed the door behind her. And for once, she didn't feel lonely in the big, cold house.