"Crowns topple easily. Thrones crumble like dust. Hearts cease to beat. Thorns draw blood."
In a country torn into two, there should have been no room for mistakes. Especially not at the very core of the royal family. That was what she was. Yes, a...
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"This is madness."
The sun shone brightly over the whole of Ravka, not at all reflecting the dreadful mood that everyone was in. All Grisha were dressed in their keftas, a beautiful array of colors, while the soldiers were in their impressive armor.
It was as if they were dressed more for a play than a battle engagement. Though they definitely succeeded in their task to look intimidating.
They passed villages atop their horses, gathering stares, praises, and judgment from everyone. Many turned to watch the army who dared question the Lantsov king on the throne. Everyone wanted to see the Grisha, the people they had turned against many years ago. The people they had condemned for so long.
None dared to question their presence nor did anyone try to stand in their way. With their numbers and their training, no one would have stood a chance. There were even children being pulled back by their mothers for they wanted to join. Such innocent souls, unaware of the price everyone in their battalion had paid.
There were also a few Grisha, some Tidemakers and Inferni, who had trailed after them, bargaining for a position. After some talking from Aleksander, those who joined were given horses and were able to be with their own kind.
Yes, they would be fighting but at least they wouldn't be discriminated against. They would be amongst their own kind and they would be valued. Some would die for such an honor. Especially Grisha who have seen the worst happen to people like them.
Seeing their leaders, however, gave them hope. There was the tall Shadow Summoner, slender in form, graceful in every way that shadows seemed to turn to him. An everlasting being draped with raven velvet, his eyes an abyss, and his power oozing. It was as if he was the embodiment of shadows and darkness. Dangerous. Alluring.
Then, there was the Lantsov princess. Her golden hair trailing behind her like liquid gold, her eyes like pools of the ocean, and her form covered in blood-red cloth. What her brother could not demand, she already had. She had respect. She had power. She was everything Oleg wished he was but could never attain.
They were two perfect beings who fought for those denied what they needed for so long. They were what Ravka has been waiting for. All this time and Saints forbid that they fail else everything else would go back to the way it was. A place void of hope.
The princess turned to the Ravkan guard by her side, careful not to let her facade slip. "A necessary madness, I assure you. Oleg will be expecting subtlety, I say let's be as open about this as possible."
"You terrify me, princess Irina," Dima said, his eyes wide but it was clear that he took strength from her.
At that, Irina tilted her head, finally showing a small smile. "Good. We need fear on our side today."
