A year after Alina Starkov tears down the Shadow Fold, she is finally able to settle into her peaceful life. There is no more war with Ravka. The Darkling, once her enemy, is now a loyal, protective husband, and a father to their adoptive daughter...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I ᗯᗩKE ᑌᑭ with tears staining my face. For a short moment, I forget why the tears are there, but then everything comes back when I find Aleksander huddled in my arms, holding me tightly against him, and it rips the air right out of my lungs.
"I'm dying."
When he said that, it broke my heart into two clean pieces. I've finally accepted the fact that I am immortal, and now there is a possibility that I will have to live that eternal life alone.
No. I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening. He said there was a way, but it is "unattainable." I could tell by how evasive he was acting that he didn't want to tell me what it was.
Aleksander's face is buried in the place where my neck meets my shoulder, looking entirely at peace. I want to wake him up so I can ask him what he meant earlier, but I can't bring myself to interrupt his serene slumber, so I just watch the long breaths of air compress and expand his chest. I can't feel my arm that is under him, holding him close to me, but I couldn't care less. My entire being feels numb. I've never had to fear his death before, but now, that's all I can think about. I think about all the times I haven't said "I love you" to him.
Suddenly, there are soft lips pressing against my forehead, bringing my attention back to Aleksander, who has finally awoken.
"Good morning," he says. A feigned smile curls his lips, but his eyes are haunted with sorrowful dejection, only just for a moment as he is coming off of sleep. Then, faster than the wick of a candle can be snuffed out, his emotion flickers away like a spirit exiting one's body, leaving a hollow mask of denial and apathy. Many would overlook it, but I see it as clear as day. That veneer he used to shield his feelings for so many years, which I had worked painstakingly to chip away, has been unearthed. "Well," he sighs. "I'd better get some work done. You can stay here longer if you'd like."
It stuns me momentarily as he looks at me without the slightest hint of concern, as if he has forgotten entirely about his affliction. It is, after all, easier to deny one's demise than to accept it. But denial is a step backward, and with limited time, we can only afford to move forward.
"What?" I scoff. He looks at me, innocently confused. "After everything you admitted to me last night about merzost and your malady from it. . . You're just going to bury yourself in work and forget about it?"
"I have a country to run, Alina."
"Like hell you do," I snarl before throwing off the covers and stomping to the door. The latch clicks into place as I lock it from the inside. When I turn to meet his quizzical face, I say, "You are not leaving until you tell me what solution you've found, no matter how absurd it is."
I can hear a soft sigh come from Aleksander as he stands from the mattress, now unamused. "As I said," he drones, "it is—"
"Unattainable, I know." I shrug with impatience. "Well?"
