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" They say she was seen on occasion,
Facing the rocks, staring out at the midnight scene
And in, a feud with her neighbor,
She stole his dog and, dyed it key-lime green "
―IN THE THREE days leading up to our journey, we operate out of what's left of the military encampments at Krisbirsk. I spend my time in the watchtower away from everyone else, grateful for the time to think about myself and try out my abilities in combat in my free time. We learn that many of the Grisha either fled to join the King, the Darkling, or are currently in hiding. Sanskiffs journey to West Ravka, returning with cargo consisting of Zemeni army-issue rifles, ammunition crates, parts for guns that persisted on the Hummingbird, and tons of sugar and jurda. I focus more on myself and mending my mental wounds.
Despite being a Durast, I've never been good at building walls to protect my heart.
On the third day, as we pack our things and mount our steeds, I'm buzzing with excitement, but also fear. We set out before dawn, headed down the winding road known as the Vy. The steady sound of the horse's hooves hitting the ground lulls my thoughts.
When we arrive at Os Alta, my presence will be announced. Word will get to the Shu, and soon my mother will know where I ran off to. It might be immature of me to think she's going to come and drag me back home, but I can never be sure about her. Sarnai Kir-Taban, my mother, has always been vain and hungry for power. It was the way she was raised, to forever be the useless princess that made her who she is. She had a mold planned out for me when I was born, constantly pinching and tugging at my cheeks to get me to listen.
Stand like a princess, Yizhi. Powder your skin, it's far too dark for a Shu girl. Don't ask about your father, it's disgraceful.
She'd make me relentlessly practice poise and grace until my cheeks hurt from the graceful smile she forced upon me and my eyes stung with tears. She perfected everything about me and still, still I wasn't enough.
Be more like your brothers, Yizhi. Stand taller. Don't sit like that, it's unladylike.
We enter Krisbirsk, the market bustling with tourists, merchants, and foreigners, snapping me out of my trance as I steer my horse to the right, avoiding the stampede of children rushing by. Nikolai's horse is in front of me as he chats with Tolya, his light smile and radiant golden blond hair glowing in the sunlight. Those gorgeous, clear hazel eyes are only accentuated in side profile, and I pull my gaze away as we pass rickety tables lined with a jumble of merchandise.
Boots, prayer shawls, wooden toys, tiny knives that I detect aren't even real steel, and bones. Tiny parts of the body. The fragment of a rib, the knuckle of a finger.
