Better than a Witch | A Darklina Retelling

Too Little Too Late

There were two things on my mind as I walked back to my room: how much I couldn't feel my feet, and how much I wished I didn't keep looking around for him everywhere I went. The long corridors were mostly empty, but every time I round a corner I listen for heavy footsteps, or pry my eyes to see the motion of black cloth.

It had been almost an entire month since I arrived at the Little Palace. Not arrived, taken. For the future of the country they tell me. For my own protection he tells me. A month ago I was just a normal mapmaker. My job and life were serving in the First Army. Then the Shadow Fold happened.

And they tell me I'm a Grisha.

So I'm where I belong. In the Little Palace, training to become a member of the Second Army. The one led by him. Truly, I should have been here since I was a young child. The Examiners should have seen my powers, but for some reason they didn't.

Now it seemed too little too late for training. I was failing at all my lessons. I was growing so weak I could barely even eat. Baghra tells me I'm not trying, but that's the problem, I am. Or at least, I think I am.

It's all too new. Too different. Or maybe I am just too weak.

My feet ached from another combat lesson with Botkin. He was the physical instructor who taught the Grisha how to fight without their powers. He made me run miles everyday, and when I couldn't he made me crawl. Yet, I was prepared for another mile over this odd sensation of hope and dread with seeing him again.

The Darkling was the most powerful Grisha of our time. Even as a mapmaker, I knew of him. His powers are unique to only his line; the ability to manipulate the shadows. It was his own ancestor, the Black Herotic, who created the Fold so long ago. Now centuries later, the Darkling has become the general of the Grisha again. This time working to undo the past mistakes of his ancestors.

Or at least that's what he told me.

It had been three weeks since the general had last spoken to me. Even that was a brief encounter if it could be considered that at all. He had really been speaking to all of the Grisha. It was a report on the war. The Darkling delivers them himself to his soldiers. A message and a warning for what we are training for. Yet, I still remembered how he held my eyes as he spoke. As if we were the only two people in the room.

"Alina!" Genya called. She was a Corporalki and my only real friend at the Little Palace. I turned to smile at her, grateful for the distraction from my thoughts. I shouldn't be thinking of him. He was our leader, nothing more.

Genya was forcing down a grin as she caught up with me. Hopefully she was just planning on escorting me to my rooms. My feet were not prepared for any more walking today. I knew that grin though, nothing ever good came out of it. Something mischievous was happening.

"The Darkling wants to see you," she said gracefully, stepping in line with my pace and linking her arm with mine. "In his bedroom."

She lowered her voice on the last word, wiggling her eyebrows. The grin on her face broke now as she laughed and I tried to ignore the feeling in my stomach. I couldn't tell if I was excited or frightened for what the Darkling wanted to talk to me about.

"He does not want to see me in his bedroom," I scolded instead, trying to keep my voice flat. She didn't need to see how close the prospect had made me excited.

"Fine, in the council room," she conceded. "Which is still technically in his chambers, so close enough."

I ignored the last bit. Still not understanding why he wanted to see me. We had reached my room, and my nerves of seeing him fought against the protests of my feet to go back down a flight of the steep palace stairs to get there.