Blood and Water - The Darkling

Chapter 4: Forgiven

*Unedited

*I'm so sorry I accidentally deleted this

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𝕴𝖙'𝖘 been seven days and I have finally been able to convince Aleksander to allow Alina to be awake.

Genya, Ivan, and I are waiting for her to stir. She tries to turn over but gasps and jolts upright. Her eyes fly open and she blinks a couple of times. My twin glances at Genya, who is sitting at the edge of the small bed.

After taking a long shaky breath, she turns towards the Tailor. The redhead lifts a tin cup to my sister's lips.

"Drink," she says.

"What is it?" Alina asks warily.

"Just water," I reply.

She tries to take the cup but pauses when she realizes her wrists are in irons. My sister lifts her hands awkwardly and drinks the liquid greedily.

"Slowly," Genya urges, her hand smoothing the hair back from Alina's face. "Or you'll make yourself sick."

"How long?" she asks, glancing at me and then Ivan, who is leaning against the door watching her. "How long have I been out?"

"A little over a week," Genya says.

"A week?" my twin asks in a panicked voice.
She shoves to her feed and stumbles but I reach out to steady her. Alina only shakes me off and stumbles to the sidescuttle and peers through the foggy circle of glass. I know what she sees. Nothing. Nothing but blue sea. No harbor. No coast. Novyi Zem is long gone.

I sigh, "I know. Kirigan would not relent until now. I tried to convince him that a day was fine."

Alina just turns to me and asks, "Where's Mal."

"He's a prisoner but safe," I tell her.

Ivan steps forward, "Enough of that. The Darkling wants to see her. Are you strong enough to walk, or do I have to carry you?"

"Give her a minute," Genya says.

I nod, "Let her eat, wash her face at least."

The Heartrender bows, "Yes, moya soverenaya."

"No," Alina protests. "Take me to him."

Genya and I frown but she just insists, "I'm fine."

Slowly, I say, "Very well."

As we leave the cabin, we are engulfed in a wall of stench- not the usual ship smells of bilge and fish and bodies but something worse.

Alina gags and clamps her mouth shut. "What is that?"

"Blood, bone, rendered blubber," says Ivan. "You get used to it."

"You get used to it," retorts Genya and I, both wrinkling our noses.

We lead her through a hatch that leads to the deck above. Ivan clambers up the ladder, and she scrambles hastily after him, most likely eager to be out of the dark bowels of the ship and free of the rotting stench.