Noble Hope| General Kirigan

𝟘𝟘𝟚

{Chapter two}

WAKING UP WITH A HEALER IN HER FACE WASN'T HER IDEAL MORNING. Adaline attempted to sit up with a startled gasp but found she couldn't breathe. She collapsed onto her back once more with a pained sigh.

"Wait, your lungs are collapsed. Don't move." Said the brown-haired girl. With stiff fingers, she moved them in a downward and out motion. The healer put the tiniest bit of pressure on her throat, and suddenly Adaline could breathe again. 

"What happened?" She stuttered through gasping breaths, though she didn't get a response as Alina woke up beside her. The healer's attention quickly shifted to the other Starkov. 

Adaline sat up, slowly and turned to the Grisha woman. "Mal, the tracker. Where is he?"

"First army goes to medical," She answered, carefully moving her hands to heal Alina's collarbone. Alina responded with a grunt. 

Another Grisha in a blue kefta came into view. Adaline hadn't noticed her until she spoke. "Bring those two to the general's tent." 

"Who?" Alina and Adaline asked in unplanned unison. 

The healer looked at the girls uncertainly. "But I'm not done yet." 

"You can go with them." The squaller sassed, shaking her head before turning to direct the rest of the Grisha on deck. 

It wasn't long until two Grisha men took hold of both the bloody Starkov girls, and Adaline wasn't happy. Neither girl knew what was happening while they were escorted into the general's tent, but both stayed silent. Alina had grime on the side of her uniformed shirt, and Adaline's hands were covered in dirt and blood. Who's blood, she didn't know. Her hair nearly all fell out, and Alina's braid came loose. 

They were a mess, but what could anyone expect coming out of a fight in the shadow Fold?

Inside the tent, it was dark and only a few rays of morning sunlight streamed through the black covers.  Alina was brought up first, much to Adaline's dismay. It seemed like the entirety of the Second Army was watching with how many Grisha were standing around the tent. 

In the middle of the room stood a man in a black kefta who Adaline assumed was The Darkling. She would have thought he was intimidating had she not seen through his whole dramatic entrance facade. She knew only because she had done it thousands of times with Alina and Mal. 

Mal. 

All Adaline wanted was to grab her sister and run. They would find Mal and run away, just like they did when they were kids. 

Her thoughts were abruptly silenced when the general in black spoke. "Bring her closer." 

The guards pulled Alina closer and then let go of her arms. Adaline watched carefully as the general slowly turned around. He looked to be about Adaline's age; twenty-seven or eight, maybe six-foot-two in height. His hair was as dark as one could've imagined, brushed back to keep away from his face. His beard reached down his neck and over his upper lip. Saints, his eyes were even darker than his kefta. 

He almost looked normal despite the darkened glare he set across the room. 

That gaze sent shivers down Adaline's spine. The guards held onto her tighter, almost as if they were afraid she'd try something. But really, what could she do? She was just a reporter for the First Army who knew better than to attack Second Army guards in a room full of Grisha.