Kingdom of Scourge and Shadow (The Sightstone Series #1)

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Alina

"I have studied the Saints, what few records we have of them, and I believe no one has more knowledge of the Unnamed Saint than I have. From what little I have been able to piece together, I believe he conducted unethical, and indeed horrific, experiments on humans and mages alike. Fortunately, any records he may have kept have been lost to time."

-The Unnamed Saint, a biography by Count Osinov

***

 True to Lord Zima's threat, the angry black scars across her body didn't fade completely, but they did get better. Slowly. The veins of darkness didn't ease much, but the scars themselves did, as Alina spent hours every day on the long journey between Kirovburg and Allerstad working on them.

Her time on the Sankta Anastasia was surprisingly pleasant. Captain Novikov and his crew treated her like an honored guest, which, she supposed, she was to them. Every morning, the ship's cook, a one-armed, grizzled veteran of the seas named Filipov delivered a simple, but always delicious, breakfast to her cabin. Some days, it was eggs, others porridge, or rich rye with fruit preserves. Whatever it was, it was always better than the meals she'd been fed at the palace. Or maybe it was just that freedom made everything taste better.

Then, after breakfast, she joined the crew on deck, and, as a meager recompense for helping her escape, she treated any lump, bump, bruise or case of seasickness that needed her attention. At first, many of the sailors had been hesitant to accept her help, but, by the end of her first week at sea, they came to her eagerly, and a handful of bad issues turned into a landslide of tiny problems that she could treat before they got too bad.

The greenstorm hit on the eighth day, as they were inching their way past the Caedish coast, wary of naval patrol vessels. The trade routes technically didn't belong to any nation, but that hadn't stopped Caedish privateers from preying on Saroviyan ships in the past.

When they saw green-tinged clouds massing on the horizon, Captain Novikov sent Alina to her quarters and ordered her to stay there until he or his first mate, a handsome young man named Pyotr Ostin, came for her.

The next two days had passed in a blur of rough seas, howling winds, lashing rain, and warning shouts carrying from overhead. There was a constant stream of patients for her to see to as men were tossed about and battered and bruised as the ship was tossed about by massive waves and brutal winds.

On the eleventh day, finally, the temperature plummeted and the rain turned to a light snowfall. The wind slowed from gale force to a brisk, cold breeze, and Alina was once again allowed back on deck. After a brief stroll to get some fresh air, she collapsed into her bunk in her borrowed cabin, exhausted from the efforts of the last few days, and slept straight through until the next morning.

After that, she found herself actually enjoying being at sea. She'd never expected to, but something about the rocking of the ship, the smell of the cedar-lined walls and the salty sea air, made her feel at home. It was freeing to stand at the bow of the ship, feeling the freezing sea spray sting her skin and the wind lash and tear at her hair and clothes, in a way she'd never felt before.

She'd spent so many years trapped behind the palace walls, never leaving Kirovburg. The endless stretch of blue-green-grey sea that spread out before her made everything seem possible again, and she began to dare to dream, as she hadn't dreamed in years.

When she stood at the bow, snow falling around her, wind cooling her cheeks, the task she'd embarked upon seemed just a little bit less impossible. Maybe she would actually make it to Allerstad. Maybe she'd be able to deliver Lord Zima's papers to the Caedish, and be able to negotiate some sort of protection from Lord Zima, and, just maybe, with the help of Lord Zima's notes and Marina's samples, the Caedish might be able to find a cure for the Scourge. Maybe. If she was lucky.