When is it Enough

Chapter 6 - Why Do You Cry?

Aleksander was used to sleepless nights. It was an occupational hazard when you run an army, but he'd never quite mastered getting through the day after. Years ago- how long ago was anyone's guess at this point- he'd tried jurda on one particularly demanding mission, but he found it to be uniquely distasteful. Regardless, he felt tempted today as the morning sunshine burned his eyes. Shading them provided little respite.

He slicked back his shaggy black hair as best he could. He hadn't cut it since it grew back in, but he was going to need to deal with it soon. It kept his neck warm in the bitterly cold winter, he justified to himself, and people wouldn't draw comparisons to the slickly styled Darkling if he, Sasha, looked a little... unkempt.

His breath billowed in the frigid air as he made his way to the cathedral to make the final preparations. His visit to Alina had been intentional, to a point. He'd set events in motion far earlier than he'd planned, but when he'd felt Alina's call, he'd answered without thinking. When she called, he would always answer. Why did she make him so impulsive?

Baghra's message in the darkness rang in his ears. Control or surrender. She had always been frustratingly cryptic; he didn't know why he expected anything else.

He shook his head and clasped his hands behind his back, forcing his posture to straighten. He couldn't be distracted today. If he was ever going to claw back the power he'd lost when he died, he needed his full attention on the task at hand. Control was the only option.

---

Alina woke to someone drawing her a bath. She groaned. Her whole body was making her pay for its utter mistreatment last night. She tried opening her eyes, but the midday sunlight was too much for her to handle. She slowly came to the realization that she was lying on the floor, spinning head atop one of the overstuffed throw pillows that littered the room.

Memories of the previous night danced behind her eyelids. The music player. The kvas. The Darkling.

The Darkling.

She sat straight up and immediately regretted it, letting out a pained squeak and dropping her head between her knees.

"Oh good, you're alive," Genya mused from the door to the washroom. "And here I was feeling bad that we'd overdone it with the kvas."

"What time is it?" Alina asked groggily.

"Nearly two."

Alina groaned again.

"Come on, I've got a steaming bath with your name on it and several years' experience sobering up our dearly departed queen just itching to be useful again."

Alina tried to stand, but the room spun violently. Genya caught her arm before she fell back down.

"Have I ever mentioned you're amazing," Alina slurred.

"You know, I can't recall. You should bring it up more often," Genya teased as she started pulling the alcohol from Alina's blood.

Alina hummed in agreement.

Once she could stand, Genya carried her to the washroom and left her to soak in peace.

Alone with her thoughts, Alina couldn't stop running over her hazy memories of that night.

"No, Solnishka, I will not."

"I wanted you."

"How do you know I'm not alive?"

She was mortified at the state she had been in. She couldn't remember exactly their conversation, but she remembered him- his cool, calm composure a stark contrast to her drunken mess.