The Sun Blade

Room for Expansion

As Cresana's consciousness rose up from her dream state to meet her mind, she noticed first and foremost that she was in a soft bed. Instantly, she felt discomforted by this. She hadn't slept in a soft bed for 15 years since she came to The Institute, and she had lost her taste for them. She noticed a dull throb in her lower back – not the result of an injury, but the result of her body sinking into the plush mattress in a manner it was not used to. She was engulfed by soft blankets, another unusual luxury she was unaccustomed to, although this one did not bother her as much as the squishy mattress.

She willed her senses to sharpen and scan the room around her. She felt the warmth of sunlight on her face and a sweet smell of willowgrass traveling in on a gentle breeze. 'Still at the Little Palace,' she recognized. Willowgrass had been native in the fertile plain lands that had separated her mountainous home in the Sikurzoi foothills from the cold, rugged coastline of the Institute.

She could hear soft rustlings around her, some of them the result of the willowgrass breeze ruffling the curtains. Other sounds, though, told Cresana she wasn't alone. She could make out the almost imperceptible rustle caused by someone's breathing, the chest and ribcage expanding with the fabric of a garment rubbing against a chair back. Instantly, she felt her muscles tense. She scanned her body quickly, recognizing with an internal groan that she was unarmed and clad in some sort of impractically soft gown.

'There's no need for fighting here, Blade.'

Cresana opened her eyes to examine her guard, for she was sure that was what he was. He was a young man, maybe a few years older than her, with a noticeable scar along his jawline and flinty grey eyes. He sat in a straightback wooden chair about ten feet from the side her bed. His red Kafta gave away his status as a Coroporalki, and the black embroidery traced along the sleeves identified him as a Heartrender. Cresana's nostrils flared, and within an instant she had launched from the bed, coming to a low crouch on the side of the bed opposite the Heartrender. The cumbersome nightgown was ludicrously restrictive, particularly at her hips, so she unceremoniously bunched the fabric around her waist, allowing her legs freedom of movement.

A faint memory clawed at her mind.

'Ivan,' she growled.

The Heartrender regarded her with a studied indifference, although Cresana thought she noted a hint of astonishment at how quickly she had moved. He raised a reconciliatory hand.

'It is not my practice to attack Blades. I was acting under orders.'

So Cresana had been right: this was the Heartrender who had felled her in the Trial. She felt an instant surge of rage. Here, mere feet from her, was the man who had kept her from fulfilling her destiny. No doubt she had failed the Trial, for she had emerged neither dead nor victorious from the experience. Although Cresana felt a pang of indignation at being the first Blade to be tested against Grisha powers, she felt more keenly the sting of shame and rage as her face flushed.

'I should kill you where you stand,' she spat. Cresana contemplated attacking him, trying to calculate how quickly she could reach him and break his neck before he was able to execute the complicated hand movements of Small Science and stop her heart again.

'That would be ill advised.' Cresana genuinely jumped in surprise at the sound of another voice coming from behind her. It was the same voice that had ordered her Trial ended. Cresana watched warily as the same tall Grisha in the unusual black kefta walked around her side. Her eyes flitted back and forth between her foes. Cresana was unsure what the black of her second assailant's kefta signaled. 'This wasn't part of the training,' she noted, feeling a slight surge of fear and panic rise up in her throat. She realized it had likely been kept out of her training at The Institute intentionally, meaning this Grisha was important and likely unique.