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YOU WERE RIGHT TO FEAR BETRAYAL
AS SHE DESCENDED INTO THE DARKLING'S CABIN THE NEXT MORNING, Anya's heart was devoid of fear ― what once was fear had turned into rage many years ago, until all she could feel was anger. Except now the Darkling wasn't the only target of her own anger, for Anya herself was a target too. She should have known that he would have taken advantage of a different girl once she had the Little Palace, that he'd have offered someone else the world in exchange for devotion. She shoul have known some things never change. Even before Anya, there had probably been another.
The guards didn't need much convincing to let her in. One look from her with a strictly said "I have bussiness to take care of with him" was enough to get the door open. Once she entered and the two of them were alone, the man didn't seem one bit surprised by her presence. He was sitting on a chair behind the desk, attentively reading a book. He looked up at her, but didn't change his position.
"I remember you from yesterday," the Darkling stated with no emotion in his voice. "What's your name?"
"Aurora," she responded. A reckless and shallow part of her hoped he'd recognize her voice. Recognize that she had not died, that he had failed, that she came back, determined to make him pay.
He didn't recognize it. She inspected his face and in that tiny cabin with just them two, and there was no indication of recognition. He had no idea who she was, and Anya wanted to rip out with her bare hands the part of her heart that had hoped he'd at least falter. She wanted to feed that part of her heart to the wolves.
"And?"
"And there seems to be a misconception amongst your soldiers of what can and cannot be done on this ship."
He raised a brow. "Please, do tell."
"Just because you have bought Sturmhond's loyalty doesn't mean the rules of basic human decency no longer apply to you here," she said. "The Sun Summoner was unconcious when brought here, but the boy was wide awake, and obviously hurt. He's been kept locked up and chained since yesterday."
"I see," the Darkling responded.
"He has to be freed. Immediately." She crossed her arms. "At least freed from shackles and allowed to walk out of that cabin during the day, even if with hands bound or a Grisha guard. We're not human traffickers."
Anya didn't feel like contemplating the technicalities of whether that statement was true; what mattered was that it got the message acrossed.
The Darkling put down his book, but didn't stand up. Anya didn't budge either, content with the cabin's length separation between them.
