Her Balance | Nikolai x Reader x Darkling

~ Chapter 7 ~

Let's get into it.

First Person - Y/n

The next few days passed in a blur of discomfort and exhaustion. 

We had reunited with a few other riders and stayed off of the Vy. We traveled mostly on the side roads and narrow hunting trails, moving as quickly as the hilly and sometimes treacherous terrain would allow. 

Even with a keen sense of geography, I lost all sense of where we were or how far we had gone.

Once we had reunited with the other riders, the Darkling and I had ridden separately. He had allowed me to take my own horse but still made sure that I was right next to him amongst the column of riders. 

I'd been a particularly good rider, but the pace the Darkling set was beginning to take its toll. No matter which way I shifted in my saddle, some part of my body ached. 

On the fifth night, when we stopped to make camp at an abandoned farm, I wanted to jump from my horse in joy. But I was so stiff that I settled for sliding slowly to the ground. I thanked the soldier who saw to my mount and walked slowly down the hill to a stream.

I knelt by the bank and washed my face and hands in the cold water. The air had changed over the last couple of days, and the bright blue skies of autumn were giving way to sullen gray. 

The soldiers seemed to think that we would reach Os Alta before any real weather came on. And then what? What would happen to me when we reached the Little Palace? What would happen when I couldn't do what they wanted me to do? It wasn't wise to disappoint kings. Or Darklings. 

I doubted they'd just send me back to the First Army with a pat on the back, and I doubt whether anyone would even look at me the same. It was no wonder that word had probably gotten out since the disappearance of a General after she blew up in light is not normal.

I wondered if Mal and Alina were still in Kribirsk. If their wounds had healed, they might already have been sent back across the Fold or onto some other assignment, but knowing the two of them, they'll pose the injuries for as long as they need to. I thought of their faces disappearing into the crowd in the Grisha tent. 

I hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye.

In the dusk, I stretched my arms and back and tried to shake the feeling of gloom that had settled over me. It's probably for the best, I told myself. How would I have said goodbye to either of them anyway? 

Thanks for being my best friends and being the family I lost. Oh, and hope you both have lots of babies. Make sure to write!

"What are you smiling at?"

I turned around. The Darkling's voice seemed to float out of the shadows. He walked down to the stream, crouching on the bank to splash water on his face and through his dark hair.

"Well?" he asked, looking up at me. 

"Myself," I admitted.

"Are you that funny?"

"I'm absolutely hilarious, and very intriguing if you will."

The Darkling regarded me in what remained of the twilight. I had the troubling sensation that I was being studied. 

Other than a bit of dust on his kefta, our trek seemed to have taken little toll on him. 

My skin prickled with embarrassment as I became keenly aware of my torn, kefta, my dirty hair, and the bruise the Fjerdan assassin had left on my cheek, along with the scar on my torso.