Chapter one

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Alina was in The Darkling's quarters. My quarters, she thought. He doesn't live here anymore. As the new general of the Second Army, it was best suited that she slept there. To prove her authority. As much as Alina claimed she was nothing like The Darkling, she once again proved it wrong by almost using the cut on a Grisha. A Grisha who disagreed with me. Disrespected me, said the traitorous little voice in her head. She hated how good it felt to use the cut. To show her power. And she hated that he was right. He lied to me. Manipulated me. But did he, really? All the things he ever said to her were not just pretty lies to corrupt her. He meant them, she realized. "Like calls to like", he always said, and wasn't that right? She craved power. She could no longer deny it.

Alina sat on The Darkling's bed. My bed, she thought. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and trembling hands just before realizing how big of a mistake that was. It smelled like him. She hadn't even noticed he had a specific scent before this very moment. Before she could stop herself, Alina breathed  in again. She quickly realized how wrong this was, how good it felt. She shook her head to erase the thoughts that were plaguing her mind.

That's when she felt it. Her pulse quickened, her breathing became almost erratic, her palms turned clammy. She felt him. She stood up from her sitting position on the bed so fast she almost fell, but regained her footing when she heard a cold and deadly voice behind her. His voice.

"I must admit that when I imagined you laying in my bed, I thought it would be with me, Alinochka."
She turned around as quickly as she could, and tried to hide the way her breath caught in her throat when she saw him. His hair was disheveled, his eyes sunken, his face crossed by a scar; and yet he had never looked more beautiful.
She caught up on what he said, and snapped back:
"I must admit that when I thought about seeing you again, I imagined you would be on your death bed, Darkling."
He only smirked at that. The bastard. As he next spoke, she straightened her back.
"You left me for dead in the fold. Me and countless innocents just to save your tracker," he spat that word with such a hatred that Alina almost flinched, " but still, you claim yourself to be a hero. Sankta Alina. How do you think your pilgrims would react if they found out you willingly left civilians to rot in the fold just to live a happy ever after with you Otkazat'sya friend?"
Alina saw red. His words angered her. But not because they were aggressive. But because they were true.
"His name is Mal." , childish answer, she thought. But it was either that, or admitting The Darkling was right.
"For now it is," said he "but what will be of him in a hundred years? He is going to die, Alina. They always do."
She knew he was right. But she couldn't bring herself to think about it.
"Shut up", she whispered.
"The truth is hard to swallow. But trust me, you don't want to live an eternity alone —"
His words were just a background sound as she clamped her hands over her ears. "shut up, Shut up, SHUT UP!"
Only then did she realize she was crying. Sobbing like a child. But not because of Mal's eventual death. Thought she. But because I don't wanna be a—
"lone, please don't let me be alone, please don't let me be alone, please..."

She was on the floor, crying and begging not to be left alone.
Alina felt strong arms wrap around her shaking form, felt a hand rubbing circles on her back and another playing with her hair. It smelled good. It smelled like him. She did not fight him. She let him, The Darkling, hold her.

He mumbled sweet nothings to her, helped her calm dow. He kissed the top of her head and said: "I have seen what you truly are, and I have never turned away. I won't let you be alone, my Alina, I promise."
And she believed him.

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Alina didn't remember falling asleep. She didn't remember crawling into bed , and didn't remember enveloping herself in the satin bed sheets.
She stirred awake, stretched and rubbed her eyes off of sleep. She tried to remember what happened. I was sitting on the bed, then the Darkling appeared and he talked about how lonely eternity would be— she gasped as she recollected the events of last night. She cried in front of him. She had a breakdown in front of her enemy. She thought about how pathetic she must have looked, how weak. She was supposed to command an army. She was The Sun Summoner for saints' sake. So why did she, just last night, feel like the orphaned girl from Keramzin?

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