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They pulled Alina's carriage all the way up to the dark silk tent, but still the Grisha swarmed her like bees to pollen. Two more groups of Grisha had been sent over from the Little Palace to Kribirsk in the weeks it had taken them to find her, and many of them were familiar faces.
Sergei and Marie were at the front of the group, rushing to hug Alina along with another one of the Etherealki boys, and the only good thing about all the commotion was that Katya was able to go unnoticed.
She doubted even the Darkling noticed as she slipped from her horse, his eyes stuck to Alina, the promise of violence lingering there. With the Sun Summoner back in their midst, no one noticed her slip towards the jail, with one thing on her mind. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about the damnable tracker – it was more than just the tactical advantage he was – but she needed to make sure he was alive.
The jail was an old, rackety building that had been there plenty more years before Katya had been alive, and it was usually empty, except for one or two drunken soldiers sleeping it off in the cells by the entry. Two First Army soldiers kept guard, their faces serious, their glares mean.
She didn't mind them one bit, even as their glares turned to her, to the blue kefta she was wearing, "No visitors allowed."
"It's sanctioned." She outranked a fair share of men, and she damn right could sanction a visit to the camp prison.
The soldiers held the gate open for her; the inside of the prison was as ugly as the outside of it, but it was empty, save for one cell at the very back, where a lamp flickered weakly.
"Come to see me off to halter, Grisha?"
He was not being expansive, or loud as many of the other deserters she'd seen were in their anger, but rather endured in silence. It was heroic, and unusual and, Katya realized, reminiscent of another boy from years ago.
That boy was gone now, but here was Malyen Oretsev, who was going to hang for the girl he loved without hesitation. He was admirable, at least.
Katya shrugged, though Mal was laying on the floor looking anywhere but to her. "Just checking to see you're not dead, I suppose."
It was useless. They both knew where Mal was headed, and that it would be soon.
His eyes slid over to her, slowly. "That's a dumb reason. Have you seen Alina? How is she?"
Not well, was the honest answer. The days she'd spent running had quickly gotten the better of Alina and she was now nearly as skinny and pale as she'd been when she was brought to the Little Palace. Though she was supposed to have been away to prepare for her excursion into the Fold, the dark stains under Alina's eyes told another story.
The boy didn't need to know all that. "She's alive, well. She's surrounded by her friends now." Mal had no friends there.
The pain and anger on his face were obvious, "She wanted me to kill her, you know. Alina would've rather died than gone back to your mighty general."
