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THREE YEARS PRIOR, when she had first arrived in Kerch, Lianna's first night in Ketterdam was full of tears, sobs and weeping. She was unaware of the time passing, numb to the moon travelling on the horizon. Even the starlight illuminating her bedroom floor through the balcony window annoyed her – it had no right to be beautiful. Everything beautiful stayed behind, she left it all in Ravka, never to be seen again. Her body was exhausted but still shook rapidly with every let out cry, her throat sore, head dulled by pain.
Her homeland was on a brink of a civil war and she couldn't help it – only thirteen years old, not even allowed to fight. Staying could have been a death wish, for all she knew. But it still hurt to run away. Many people did, but did they all feel like traitors?
A knock was heard in the room and a second later the door was opened. With great struggle, Lianna sat up on the bed, fearful it might be mister Ford – he was a kind man, after all, as kind as a merchant from Kerch could be. She wouldn't want to seem ungrateful. When she turned around to check, she didn't see the middle-aged, short man, however. The person who entered her room uninvited was a tall, slim boy with blond hair and fair skin.
And that is how, on that cold, lonely night, her first in the city abandoned by gods and saints, she met Cassian Reyes for the first time.
"My name is Cassian." He sat on the edge of her bed. He spoke fluent kerch, without any trace of an accent, ravkan or another. His golden tresses were a mess, his smile brighter than the moon. He was no more than two years older than her. "What's yours?"
"Lianna," she answered. "Are you from Ravka?" He nodded. The next sentence she spoke in ravkan, an obvious tinge of resentment to it; "Then why are you talking to me in a language foreign to both of us?"
"Safety reasons." His tone was apologetic. "Mister Ford wants us to communicate in kerch. If we spoke ravkan, people might get suspicious." A pause. "A lot of bad things are happening in Ravka," he said, as if she needed it explained.
Good thing I actually listened when they taught us languages in the Little Palace, she thought bitterly. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "Are you a Grisha, too?"
Maybe that was a foolish question. She was instructed not to tell anybody, but that boy earned her trust immediately, somehow. Later on, as years have passed, she accepted the fact that's just how Cassian was – magnetic. People wanted to trust him and for him to trust them.
"Yeah." His smile grew wider, still equally gentle and compassionate. "I'm an Alkemi, although not very skilled. My parents sent me away to Kerch before I would be recruited into the Second Army. You're a Squaller, right?" She nodded as shw watched him shift on the bed. His expression stayed empathetic, but there was a change in the way his eyes shone. "See? We can't let people know, it wouldn't be safe. Everyone who arrives after you and I will be a ravkan Grisha, too. We'll have to set an example."
