Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Thirty-two: Aleksander Morozova

Thirty-two:

Aleksander Morozova

This time, when he arrived at the Little Palace, there was no one there to greet him. David had said that he had found something urgent and to meet him in the old grisha quarters. When the grisha had stopped serving, they had been closed off. Boarded up. A relic of a forgotten time when magic filled the palace, and people took them seriously. The small sciences they were called. Of course, that depended on which side of the border you were on and who you were talking to. Aleksander always referred to them as the small sciences. It legitimized them.

The three orders of grisha.

Corporalki.

Etherealki.

Materialki.

Some could raise storms at will. Some made fire with their hands. Others could change someone's appearance entirely. If you believed the legends, which Aleksander did with whatever was left of his heart. When he reached the grisha's old quarters, David was standing there waiting for him.

"What did you find, Mr. Kostyk? What was so important that you had to pull me away from my lovely wife on our honeymoon?"

"Sorry, Lord Morozova," he said, "but it is actually concerning your wife and the grisha. I thought it best that I tell you before someone else found it."

"What is it, David?" he said.

David hesitated. "Come with me, sir. It's better that I show you. I didn't know what to make of it.... maybe you can." He opened the door, and the two of them walked down a long hall. They didn't stop until he let them into a room. There was a bed with a romantic painted headboard, a wooden floor, and a vanity. The room was all lace, flowers, and gold. Definitely occupied by a young woman. It was covered in dust, and somehow, there was the faintest smell of perfume even though Aleksander was certain it had been a long time since someone had occupied those rooms.

"On the nightstand, my Lord," David told him, gesturing to the one on the left side of the bed. "I didn't touch it.... but I thought I had better tell you. I didn't know what else to do."

His heart pounding against his chest, Aleksander slowly made his way over to the nightstand. There was a black and white photograph on the bed. He picked it up. The picture was of a young couple, staring at each other. And, if he hadn't known better, he would have said it was his young wife, and him. Taken well over two hundred years ago.....

"No," he whispered, "it's impossible."

"It seems to be your ancestor, with a girl who...well.... was named Alina Starkov. Look at her kefta, sir. Do you see the design on it?"

"What about it?" he said.

"The kefta's marked the grisha by their abilities. Symbols of their power were often interwoven into them. The curvy lines on hers are actually rays of sunlight. The Alina Starkov that you see in that picture, she's a sun summoner."

"And my ancestor and her----"

"You're not a relation," said David, "I checked. Aside from this picture, there's only one other record of Alina Starkov."

"Which is?"

"Her death certificate," he said, "she died when she was nineteen. Apparently, there was some misunderstanding between her and the general on ancient magic that needed to be destroyed, and when the general wouldn't see things her way, she ran. Never to be seen or heard from again. They claim she married a tracker from the first army.... but.... her grave is in the Keramzin churchyard."

He picked the picture up and stared at it. It was like looking in a mirror. It was like looking at fate. He glanced at David. "No one must know of this. Especially not my wife. Is that clear?"

David nodded. "You know I believe in what you are doing, Lord Morozova. I want to bring Ravka to it's glory as well. Besides, I consider Alina a friend."

Aleksander raised an eyebrow. "Do you really?"

David heaved a sigh. "Well, Genya considers Alina a friend. And I love Genya. So, I would do anything to keep them safe, including lie to the King or anyone else if they were to find out about this place and ask."

Aleksander patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you, David. Tell no one of our findings. Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course," he said.

"Search the room. See if you can find anything else of the girls. Diaries, letters, any personal effects."

David nodded. "I can do that. Anything else, sir?"

"The other rooms too," he said, "search them as well. All of them. And...I will be taking the picture."

"I expected as much," said David, "that is all I had for you, sir."

"Very good," said Aleksander, and he took the picture off of the nightstand and tucked it away in the sleek, black sport coat jacket that he was wearing. He nodded goodbye to the young man, and then he left the castle feeling like a criminal the whole time. An Alina Starkov had been in love with his ancestor in the past and he had married some descendant of hers centuries later.

He was getting closer, he knew it. Soon, he would find the old magic. Soon, he would coax the power out of Alina. Maybe even himself. They would have an heir and build a dynasty to rival the Kings. Ravka would be theirs. He could feel it in his bones. Alina was the key to everything he wanted, and she was everything else that he wanted. He had let himself be driven to the castle. When he got into the car as the driver took him to the country estate, Aleksander took the photograph out and stared at the couple.

They looked happy. He could make Alina happy. Whatever the cost. He was sure of it. There would be no dead saints in this story. Only powerful ones.