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...
Sorry for the late update. She a long chapter, enjoy :) ——————
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Darkling's POV
ᗩᒪOᗯ GᖇOᗯᒪ emits from me as I tear my eyes open. My head throbs with a painful headache. The memories come back in an instant.
Alina.
A million swears roll off the tip of my tongue. My stiff muscles shake when I haul myself up from the floor. Spending half a night on the ground does nothing for a man's already aching body with centuries of injuries under his belt.
My mind floods with a whirlwind of thoughts all at once. I try to sort through them to find the most useful ones; however, I can't quiet the voice inside that keeps asking, "How could she do this to me?"
My lip curls up in disgust. That is a terribly feeble thought, and now is not the time to be weak. I must get Alina back. It is still a few hours until early morning since the sun has yet to pass over the rolling hills of Os Alta. This means Alina can't have gone farther than Poliznaya. I still have time before she crosses the mountains into Shu Han.
I sling a white shirt over my shoulders, not bothering to button it all the way before tromping down to Ivan's room on the palace's first floor. On the way, I try to mute the qualms whispering in the back of my mind that Alina already got captured. If she is still in Ravka, she will be safe. I will find her.
My knuckles rap against the wood of his door aggressively. There is scrambling and sliding of sheets coming from inside. Ivan pops his head out with hastily thrown-on pants and an open nightshirt.
"What is it, moi tsar?" I can hear an edge to his tone at being woken up suddenly. It makes me all the more irritable.
"The Queen is gone."
His eyes bulge, and then he avoids eye contact, focusing everywhere but me. "I don't know where she went," he responds. Ivan fidgets with his fingers clasped behind his back.
"I wasn't suggesting you did."
My tone is as cold as the Fjerdan permafrost. My stony eyes bore into him. He finally looks at me and stiffly states, "I will send out a search party immediately, Sir."
I take a step toward him. He holds his ground, but his throat bobs up and down, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. "You knew she was going to leave," I accuse. It is not a blind accusation based on how pale he turns.
"I–I don't quite follow, moi tsar."
"You knew," I growl. "And you let her leave."
I take another step forward. Shadows gather at my feet. This time, he takes a step back.
"All I knew was what she told me," he admits hastily. "S–She said that she could save Ravka and end the war."
