Blood Soldiers: The Second Army - Grishaverse Prequel

36 - Aleksander

Aleksander's ship docked early that morning, and he was one of the first people off the ship. He had found his way to the Wandering Isles over the last few years, where he had found other Grisha hiding from the world.

He told them of Ravka, and how the Grisha were respected and beloved by the people. In time, more news of his country came, and the people fell in love with this strange country that would be a haven for them, and the great Blood Witch. To his surprise, they didn't hate the old Darkling, many actually understanding his rage. They thought him a hero for standing up to the king of Ravka.

When he had finally decided to return, many had chosen to join him, and so they had boarded the ship together, sailing home.

Though he was conflicted about seeing Yelena again, his excitement won out. He hoped she would be able to forgive him, and to perhaps start over, this time properly. He had already chosen a stunning silver ring that a Fabrikator had turned black for him. In the centre sat a glittering blood red garnet, with two crystal clear diamonds to either side. She would love it.

Arriving at the docks, he led his Grisha to the customs officer, explaining that they were Grisha, seeking refuge at the Little Palace. Fortunately, they had docked north of Aresk, where the Fold was said to be much narrower. The crossing safer.

The officers didn't look happy about it the arrival of so many Grisha, but they pointed him to the Grisha tents nearby and then he saw it. The Fold.

That day and the weeks immediately after had been a haze of terror. He had been so devastated about the friends he had lost, the way Yelena had looked at him, and so fuelled by power. It was all he could do to keep his shadows under control.

Now though, seeing the sheer enormity of it, he felt his mouth go dry. He had done this. Then an ugly sort of pride replaced it. He had done this.

The Grisha at the tent are guarded when the arrive, but their cautious gazes pass right over him. Of course they did. In those moments on the fold, Yelena had transformed him, lightening his hair slightly, giving him freckles, and a mole under his right eye. Less handsome, but it didn't matter right now. She could always fix it later.

He didn't recognise any of the soldiers, but they went to work, an amplifier using her power to check the Grisha were truly who they said they were. Finally, she reached him, "Pull up your sleeve."

Holding his nerve he whispered, "Wait, I have to explain–"

The Tidemaker didn't wait, pulling up his sleeve and touching his arm. Her amplifying power ran through him and they screamed as shadows appeared.

He was forced to his knees by a Heartrender, and he gasped for air, "He's...my...father."

They stopped, staring between each other.

"I did not know Ilya had a son," one of them shook her head.

"We'll take him to the Palace, let the General deal with him." Ilya looked up and blanched. The girl sneering down at him was a Squaller, her stunning cobalt kefta lined with silver thread.

Though young, she radiated power and authority, her long blonde hair braided back, to reveal her beautiful face. Irina's face. Aleksander's heart stopped. 

"Of course, Feodora," the Tidemaker nodded, and they led him straight to a carriage, throwing him inside with two Heartrenders.

Irina and Eryk's daughter. All grown up. Without her mother, whom Aleksander had killed.

The crossing of the Fold was better than he had anticipated from the stories. Feodora commanded the sand skiff with ease and the Inferni and Heartrenders with them answered to her unquestioningly. They managed to pass through undisturbed, a feat Aleksander attributed to his own presence.