𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐱𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬....
"If I cannot have them both, I will not have either."
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐎𝐂𝐱 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐯
𝐏𝐨...
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꧁꧂
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒. He wanted nothing more than to run about screaming and rage but he refrained. He should have seen it coming. Cyzarine has been very much inconvenienced by the entire situation, more than she liked to admit. But something had gone terribly wrong in the process that sent her fleeing.
The piece of charred paper in his fist felt heavy.
Sankta—Sankta it had said. Now, who was this saint they meant? He had a great many books in the Little Palace. Most of which he had read in his long life—but this was entirely different, he cared little for the lives of saints—a good handful he had known, all fellow Grisha martyred for the sake of the abandoned's belief in greater beings.
But there was someone near who did read these things apart from the apparat, and to think it was his own mother.
Sankta—
Sankta—
What sort of saint would have her running, burning all evidence?
He did not bother to announce his presence as he swept into her overheated cave. "I may have failed at teaching you a great deal, Sasha, but being disrespectful is not one of them," the woman snapped from the fire where a pot hung, boiling the soup for supper.
Sasha—she knew something was wrong. She knew he was upset and threw that name at him—that abhorrent name to rile him up even more.
"Katrina Dubrova?" He inquired straight to the point.
His mother looked at him with raised brows, "Katrina Dubrova hey?" She rolled her eyes, "I've never heard of her."
"Do not play these games with me, mother" he was not in the mood.
"Mother now, am I?" She shot back. "You're the one playing games, boy, Katrina Dubrova has been dead for twenty long years daft boy," she stoked the fire with the end of her cane.
He floundered for a moment perplexed, and his mother grinned ruthlessly. "She's smart, nobody in their right mind would look for a woman long dead, most don't even know where they buried her," his mother shrugged her thin and frail shoulders. "Not that I've met the poor thing, died shortly after she birthed her second boy according to Tenkka, "Kind woman," they used to say. Loved that girl like she birthed her herself—."
