The Sun Blade

In Darkness

Ivan paused at the edge of the Little Palace's southern wall, peering around its edge. Cresana could hear the faint sounds of men's voices: guards, she expected. He held his hand back to her, palm facing her, as a gesture to stop. She obliged. Their progress had been painstakingly slow through the palace as Ivan had taken them through the least busy corridors to avoid detection. It was now almost completely dark outside. Thankfully, there hadn't been any sign that Kirigan had returned from whatever murdered servant had distracted him.

"Three guards... two Oprichniki and one Squaller," Ivan whispered, turning back to Cresana.

"Oprichniki?" Cresana had never heard of that type of Grisha before.

"General's personal guards. Not Grisha," Ivan informed her. "They're Otkazat'sya, like you."

"Like I used to be," Cresana corrected him, almost playfully. Ivan chuckled.

"Like you used to be, Militova."

Ivan peered around the edge of the stone wall once more.

"This is as far as we go in the dark," he announced. Cresana felt a small jolt of fear as she realized what that meant. She wasn't exactly sure what it would feel like to have her heart stopped, but she felt fairly certain it wouldn't be pleasant. Despite the fear gnawing at her stomach, she nodded in what she hoped was convincing confidence.

"I won't be able to keep you awake," Ivan went on. "Your heart needs to be completely stopped. We're lucky none of these men are Heartrenders, but even so, they're no slouches. In order for them to believe you're dead, you need to be as close to that as I can get you."

Cresana quickly felt her false confidence ebbing away. She swallowed down the urge to run.

"If the worst happens, I'll try to get you back as quick as I can. Get out of there, fast, don't look back. Head due east for about six days, stay off the roads. You'll see the mountains, I trust you can find your way home after that."

"How do you know where my home is?" she asked before thinking. It was a trivial detail and, given the stakes of the moment, truly unimportant, but Cresana's curiosity got the best of her.

Ivan quirked a half smile. "You're not the only one who read that book about the Blades."

Cresana's laugh was almost imperceptible, but Ivan shared it. She had forgotten that her family's ancestral home in the foothills had been described at length in the chapter on the history of The Institute as a possible site for its creation. She was both surprised and impressed that Ivan had remembered that small detail, and once more she felt a flood of gratitude towards her unlikely ally wash over her.

As quickly as it had come, the fleeting feeling of conviviality passed and Cresana's mind returned to the urgency of the moment.

Ivan placed his hands on her shoulders, peering into her downcast eyes. He was nervous, like her.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Cresana wasn't sure that she was, but she knew they'd both come too far for backing out now.

'If it's in the blood, it's as good as done,' she silently reminded herself. Cresana didn't believe that it was her destiny to die ignominiously on the grounds of the Little Palace in a botched escape attempt. She was destined to be a Blade – maybe even a Grisha. 'This can't be the end.'

Cresana averted her chin to Ivan in a single affirmative gesture. He returned her grim stare and let go of her shoulders, his hands beginning to move in the mesmerizing patterns that most Grisha used to summon Small Science. Cresana had never needed the hand movements, nor did she know them nearly well enough to be of much use to her in her failed quest to control her Sun Summoning abilities. She watched with interest as Ivan's hands danced in a well-rehearsed pattern.