The Pomegranate Society

Nine: Alina Starkov

Nine:

Alina Starkov

The Apparat taught that if something happened more than once, it was The Saints willing it so. And if something like that happened, you should listen because it was your fate. Alina had never been particularly religious herself. But it seemed strange that both nights she was supposed to be set up with Nikolai, Aleksander Morozova appeared. Like Hades himself tempting her with pomegranate seeds, only in this case, the seeds were him. How often had she fantasized about this very thing? Him finding her on the street again, picking her up for a ride home, and then....and then what?

He was her Professor. He was older than her. Everything about this was wrong. Not to mention, she'd just had a lovely evening with Nikolai, and she was supposed to be signing some non-disclosure agreement thing with the palace that would be sent tomorrow. There was going to be an announcement that she was the Princes official consort, which even without an engagement or wedding ring, apparently came with duties.

But it wasn't Nikolai that had kept her awake at night for the past year fantasizing. It wasn't Nikolai she thought about as she rubbed her thighs together, trying to ignore the desire she felt there, and not give into temptation to rub between them. She didn't want to feel desire as she thought of the face of the man who was older than her, the man that she couldn't have. And yet.... she was lying, because she had. She had stuck her hand in between her thighs and rubbed her folds while thinking about that ride home more times than she could possibly count. It made her breathless now as she thought about it, herself dripping with desire for the man who was vastly inappropriate for her.

It was dark, and the only light in the car was from the radio that was faintly playing some song she didn't recognize. The world was on fire and no one could safe me but you, strange what desire could make foolish people do....

What she wouldn't give to know what his lips tasted like. What she wouldn't give to know what he was thinking. What she wouldn't give....

"Miss Starkov?" he said. "Are you alright?"

"You know, there's supposed to be a car waiting for me," she said, "I wasn't supposed to get into this one. Nikolai arranged it."

"Ah," he said, "well I suppose then that I should let you go."

"I suppose so," she said.

A smart girl would have gotten out of the car and left. A smart girl would not have stayed there longer than she should. And a smart girl would not have looked at her Professor's lips like she wanted to kiss him badly. But Alina had spent her whole life being smart. Playing it safe. Doing what she was supposed to. It was the only way you survived when you were an orphan. It was how you kept out of trouble.

But Alina was eighteen now. People didn't make choices for her. She made her own. Even if they were terrible ones. Right now, she wanted to make the terrible choice to kiss Professor Aleksander Morozova in his car in the middle of a darkened street. Not far from the apartment where she'd just had her first date with an actual Prince.

Alina found herself leaning forward so that she was close to him. He was leaning forward too. First, she just brushed a strand of his jet-black hair out of his slate grey eyes. Then, her eyes dropped to his lips. Before she knew what was happening, he was cupping her face in his hands, and kissing her.

A whimpering noise came from her that she didn't even know she could make before. "Professor----"

"Aleksander," he whispered to her, "Aleksander, when we're alone. Professor when we're in class."

Alina smiled up at him. "Alright. Aleksander. You know we shouldn't be doing this."

"I know," he said defeatedly.

She pulled away. "You told me that I should make smart choices. Well, I don't think I'm going to be making smart choices if I get into this car with you."

He sighed. "I suppose that means you're going to get your happily ever after with your Prince."

She shrugged. "It's the fairytale, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "I suppose so. I always preferred myths and legends to fairytales."

"Why's that?"

"It allows for a little more darkness," he said, "a little more nuance. With a fairytale, it's all sparkles and happily ever after. With a myth, there are hidden depths. Alright. I'll let you walk home on your own. The choice is yours from here on out, Alina. What do you want? Myths or fairytales?"

Alina shivered. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

He reached out and stroked back a stray strand of her dark hair. "No, I'm not. But you're a smart girl, aren't you, Miss Starkov? I'm certain you'll figure out what you want all on your own. I've got the utmost faith in you."

She took a shaky breath. Then she got out of the car. It took everything in her power to walk to the end of the street by herself. It took the same amount of power not to look back at him. Fairytales, she remembered, didn't end in despair. They ended in happily ever after. Myths often ended in despair.

Alina had lost her parents young because of the violence that tore her country apart. She'd grown up in an orphanage. Befriending Lady Genya Safin had been like something out of a fairytale itself, and Genya was offering her the keys to the kingdom by helping set her up with an actual Prince. She had nothing already which meant she had everything to lose by not agreeing to this.

It might kill her, but Alina was going to choose the fairytale. She needed safety and happiness in her life. Not darkness. And she couldn't remember one myth that ended happily.