Chapter Text
They ended up stealing horses as Baghra had advised. As promised, the stables were empty, and though Zoya felt guilty, she figured that at least, the black mare she picked would come out of this journey freed. Perhaps she’d be happier that way.
Who will I be, when I come out of this?
A traitor? A prisoner? A fugitive?
Will I even come out of it alive?
They rode long past nightfall. Only when they were so tired that they could not stand upright did they take a break and sleep for a few hours in a forest clearing. They ate hard cheese, nuts, and rye bread that was already going stale. By dawn, they were back on the road.
Zoya had memorized their original itinerary, taking them into the deep snowy woods of Tsibeya, where they left the horses. Past that point, however, the destination became a moving target — the stag’s herd was not expected to have stayed in the same location as the one Mal spotted them at, weeks ago. And they did not have the boy’s luck when it came to encountering mythical animals.
In the late hours of dusk, Zoya propelled herself to the top of a tall evergreen, and from her viewpoint, watched out for any signs of life. To the east, she spotted a thin trail of smoke.
They followed it to a campsite that was already abandoned, but only recently. David used his powers to feel the air for any unusual metals, and indeed, not too far, there was a gathering of steel and iron that he seemed to associate with rifles. As they followed that trail, Genya confirmed she could feel some heartbeats.
“We make quite the team,” Genya whispered.
It was true. Zoya was glad she wasn’t alone.
She was about to say so, when in the snowy night, she suddenly felt the warmth of a sunbeam. It was like being thrown back to the past — she was 13 again, bleeding in the snow, a powerful beast lying by her side. Only she was 17, now. The light was still Alina’s — that much was undeniable. Zoya could have recognized her warmth with her eyes closed, with the taste of it on her lips. There was nothing like it. It was the sun, and it was more than that.
When they followed the trail of light to its source, they saw that this time, instead of a white tiger, the beast was Morozova’s stag.
The three of them hid, making themselves as discreet as possible, but they hardly needed to be. All the Darkling’s grishas were looking at the stag, awed. Mal and Alina were side by side, illuminated by her sunlight as it reflected on the stag’s beautiful fur, white and opalescent as a pearl.
Alina had a dagger in her hands, but her hold on it was hesitant. The stag walked close to her, and her breath hitched when it nuzzled her cheek. She laughed gently, caressing its neck. Her expression became fraught, and sad.
“How can I kill you?” she said softly, looking into the stag’s dark eyes. They were full of sunlight and stars. “You're not mine to take…”
Behind her, the Darkling spoke in a low voice. “I know, Alina.”
Before any of them could react, the Cut sliced the air, hitting the stag right in the jugular.
Blood spattered on Alina’s face, frozen in horror. The beast yelped loudly, a distressed cry that descended the whole herd into chaos. The Darkling was preparing a second blow to finish the job, but Zoya shouted, “NO!”
A violent blow of her wind made every grisha and soldier lose their balance except for Alina and Mal, who pushed her by the shoulders to get them out of the clearing. One of the Darkling’s guard managed to stand up to the wind and pointed his rifle at Zoya. He fired, the detonation rustling the entire forest around them.
David threw his hands forward. The bullet stuttered in mid-air, and plummeted in the snow instead of Zoya’s forehead.
“Holy shit!” Zoya said, fighting off another guard while she worked to keep a heartrender’s arm stuck behind his back, “You couldn’t have mentioned earlier that you could do that, David?”
“I can fight,” he said entirely too calmly for the way he was making every rifle in his sight curl on itself, becoming unusable. “I just don’t like to do it.”
Suddenly, a hand seized Zoya’s collar.
“I see you have come looking for your punishment after all,” the Darkling said, his voice colder than Tsibeya’s harshest frost.
Zoya had never seen him this furious. His shadows gathered, thick and terrifying, only this time, she was ready. He was older and stronger, but she had the desperation of someone who still remembered what it was like to be weak, to fear death, to lose everything. Zoya had faced a more ancient creature before and come out of it alive — bleeding, scarred, but alive. And she had no intention of dying tonight.
A tornado erupted under her, violent and full of ice, pushing him and his shadows back. His attacks were powerful, but messy and ill-aimed in the chaos of the storm; a sharp slice of shadow cut her cheek, but she was sure he'd aimed for her throat.
“I hope you rot, old creep,” she growled, and slammed her hands together. She focused, and meant it. Lightning sliced the sky, descending onto him with a loud rumble of thunder.
She didn’t know if that was enough to kill someone this ancient and powerful, but even to briefly stun him was enough.
“Zoya!” Genya shouted. “Now!”
At that signal, Genya threw some golden powder into the air. Zoya was ready to react; she traced a circle with her hands, using the wind to carry the dust into all of their enemy’s faces, putting an especially copious amount up the Darkling's nostrils. In seconds, those that were still conscious tumbled down in the snow.
If Genya’s calculations were correct, they would be unconscious for hours, at least.
And Zoya had no doubt that they would be.
There was no time for explanations when they ran out of the clearing to find Mal and Alina. Everyone involved understood that the priority was to get as far from the Darkling and his men as possible, just in case Genya’s sleeping powder was less efficient than intended. They also did not dare to speak, should there be anyone here to hear them.
Zoya’s wind erased the imprint of their steps as they walked. Mal wordlessly guided them through the forest, and as she saw how skilfully he moved through nature, quietly pointing out bad patches of frost or the occasional crevasse, Zoya had to admit he was good for something.
And he protected Alina. That was his first instinct, when everything around him turned to chaos.
If Zoya was honest with herself, this shouldn’t have surprised her. Hadn’t he followed her to Os Alta, all those years ago? Zoya had assumed that was because he’d prefer the comfort of the royal guards, but when she saw how at ease he was in the wilderness, like he belonged there — that theory lost its plausibility. He had been fine in the snowy forests of the Duke’s estate. He had gone to Os Alta to protect Alina.
He was still protecting her, now. And maybe he’d flirted with Zoya, but at least he’d never broken Alina’s bones. He’d never shoved her aside in a moment of panic. Wasn’t that the kind of person Alina needed? Wasn’t that the kind of boy she deserved?
A low grunt interrupted her train of thought. Zoya looked aside to see David, clutching at his arm. A patch of his sleeve was torn and stained with blood.
“David,” Genya whispered, alarmed.
“One of the bullets grazed me. It’s not urgent,” he said, but even as he did so, he couldn’t contain a wince.
“Let me look at that — you’re going to get it infected!”
Mal looked around the forest, clearly hesitant, but one last look at the blood on David’s sleeve made up his mind. “We should have over an hour of distance between us and the Darkling. Let’s take a short break. Can you clean his wound?”
Genya nodded, and immediately got to work on David’s arm.
“And in the meantime,” he said, turning to Zoya, “you can begin to explain what the hell is going on.”
Zoya obliged. Alina and Mal both looked horrified at the idea of the Darkling wanting to enslave Alina, to enlarge the Fold, to take over Ravka — but neither of them were surprised. When it came to explaining how ancient he was, she was met with more scepticism.
Alina sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter either way. Whether he’s the Dark Heretic or his descendent, he made his purpose clear when he tried to kill the stag.”
“Do you think it will survive?” Zoya asked. In the panic, she hadn’t managed to get that good of a look at its wound. It had seemed deep, but the herd had nevertheless managed to run away.
Alina’s brow furrowed with a deep sadness. “I hope so…”
“We better pray it does,” Mal muttered. “And that the Darkling never finds it again.”
“He won’t find it without you,” Alina said.
Mal nodded. Zoya envied their unwavering faith.
There was a silence, when suddenly, Mal clapped his hands, and said, “I’m going to go foraging. I think there should be some more berries around.”
Without waiting for them to answer, he left the two of them alone. Were berries were the true reason of Mal’s departure, or did he not want to stay longer than necessary by Zoya’s side? That would make sense. She had been quite rude to him. Whatever his problem was, she didn’t feel like investigating it more than strictly necessary.
Exhausted from days with very little rest, Zoya slumped down on a frozen log.
She looked to Alina, who was watching her quietly.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Zoya said. The words came out strangled, but she had to say them. And because she remembered the last time she’d apologized to Alina — the part that had really mattered to her, she added, “And I’m sorry I hurt Mal.”
Tentatively, Alina sat next to her. “You just went up against the Darkling to save my life. Or… my free will, I guess. I think we’re past apologies.”
Zoya wondered if Alina knew that she’d made that choice long ago, in her bedroom, when Alina had first forgiven her and made her understand. That the moment she’d heard her say “He’ll never own me. Never,” Zoya had known she would choose her, when it came down to this.
“Even so,” she said.
Tentatively, Alina took her hand. Zoya was grateful for the touch, a way to finally crack the ice that had gathered between them, and laced her fingers in hers. Alina wasn’t wearing any gloves, but her skin was still so warm. She couldn’t believe she’d almost just lost her — lost that reckless, brave, scrawny, free, lovely girl.
“Why did you hurt him?” Alina asked softly. “Mal says he doesn’t remember the details.”
Zoya grimaced. She didn’t want to talk about this, but she supposed it was only fair. “He was flirting with me.”
Alina’s cheeks pinkened slightly. “Right, I-I saw that. And I’m sorry he made you uncomfortable. Was he… Did he try to do something to you?”
“No,” Zoya replied. “But you were watching, and he didn’t even care.”
“So,” she said slowly, looking confused, “it was because you wanted some… privacy?”
“What? No. I was mad because he didn’t care about your feelings. If he’s going to flirt with a stranger, he could at least have the decency to do it when you’re not here.”
Alina peered at her thoughtfully. “My feelings?”
Zoya was tempted to electrocute someone again. Possibly herself, just to get out of this conversation. Did Alina really not see it? Did she have to spell it out? “Yes, your feelings. The fact that you’re so obviously head over heels in love with him. Those feelings.”
“Zoya…” Alina retrieved her hand and shook her head. A little laugh escaped out of her. “Saints, I thought you were supposed to be smart about that sort of thing.”
“Excuse me?” Zoya scoffed, offended. Now she was getting insulted, to top it all off?
“I’m not in love with Mal. Maybe a bit when we were kids, but… not for many years.”
Zoya blinked.
“But I saw you,” she said slowly, trying to adjust her mental view of the past week with this new incomprehensible information. “You were jealous.”
“Yeah, I guess I was,” Alina admitted ruefully. “But not over him.”
“That—” Zoya was pretty sure her brain had just stopped working. What. How? “Are you stupid?”
“I think you’re much more stupid, actually.”
“Stop joking about this!” Zoya took her face between her hands, making Alina look her in the eye. She thought she already knew what Alina had just confessed, but she couldn’t bear to leave it unspoken, left to interpretation. Not after so many months — so many years — of refusing herself hope. Softly, more vulnerably than she would have liked, she said, “Tell me what you mean.”
Alina’s face was gentle, and pretty. Utterly lovable.
“I mean,” she murmured, “I’m in love with you, you gorgeous idiot.”
Something unclenched in Zoya’s chest. A knot of tension that had lodged itself there the moment she’d become aware of what she felt for Alina, and had started to believe her feelings would never be returned. She hadn’t realized how much it hurt, this slow choking of her heart, not until it was released. How easy it was to breathe, suddenly.
As easy as the way Zoya caressed Alina’s cheek, putting a strand of her hair behind her ear. As easy as bringing their lips close, and kissing her.
Zoya had never kissed someone before, and she didn’t know what she was doing, really, but it didn’t matter. The tender brush of lips was innocent, and shy, and perfect. Zoya felt her power awaken in her belly, from a surge of emotion much more pleasant than the anger that so often drove it, and a warm wind came swirling around them, mingling their hair together, making small snowflakes dance.
For once, Zoya didn’t care about losing control.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that Alina’s light shone, beautiful and brilliant, her skin drinking in all the moonlight around them. Zoya remembered someone asking if Alina was a star fallen from the sky. Maybe they had been onto something after all.
They looked at each other, blushing, starlight and snow swirling between them, both of their powers so blatantly betraying their emotions. They shared a self-conscious laugh.
“I’m in love with you, too,” Zoya said, clearing her throat. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
“Got it,” Alina smiled, her cheeks a pretty pink. “Thanks for clarifying.”
“Anytime.”
At that moment, Alina looked over Zoya’s shoulder, and her eyes widened with shock. Zoya turned, following her gaze.
There, in the snowy forest clearing, shining dimly under the moonlight, stood the stag of Morozova.
The wound on its neck was deep. The fur around it was stained with blood, but it had since stopped dripping, and it was now frozen in places. It looked a lot weaker than it had before — its fur seemed duller, its lids drooping. Alina got up to meet it, and the beast slumped in the snow, kneeling down.
Alina caressed the top of his head. Her voice was watery when she said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry he did this to you.”
The stag huffed a long breath, the white fog of it visible in the cold night. It nuzzled Alina’s hand, and from the way Alina’s expression changed, it was almost like it had just spoken to her.
“I…” she started saying. Tears ran down her cheek, and she brushed them off.
“What’s going on, Alina?” Zoya said, coming behind her.
“It’s… It says it’s going to die,” she whispered.
A hand went on Alina’s shoulder. It was Mal — he’d been so quiet, Zoya hadn’t even realized he’d returned, carrying a handful of berries.
“Give it the end it deserves,” he said quietly.
She looked back at him, and that same faith passed between them, what Zoya now realized was an old, precious bond. Alina wiped off a few more of her tears, and nodded.
She took the ceremonial knife she’d carried earlier. Her arms embraced the stag, looking so small compared to it, like a child facing a towering statue of marble. It lowered its head on her shoulder, closing its eyes. Looking at peace.
Alina drove her knife in the stag’s heart, and wept.
Zoya and Mal both went to hug her, their arms keeping her from the cold, their differences temporarily forgotten — there was common ground, there, in this person they had both chosen to protect. A girl they loved, a Saint they would follow into the coldest parts of the forest. Mal wiped the blood off of her hands. Zoya caressed her hair, soothing her through her sobs.
Later, David and Genya would come back, and together, they would honour the stag. They would make one of its antlers into the strongest amplifier Ravka had ever seen, a bracelet of white bone to be placed on her arm, crowning Alina into what could be their country’s only hope. The three of them would use their powers to dig a grave, and bury a beast that had seen centuries go by, only to be wounded out of greed, then killed out of mercy.
Later, they would trek their way out of Tsibeya, all five of them undercover in cities with too many eyes. They would cross the Fold by foot, and they would reach the True Sea on the other side. There, Mal would take them to a ship led by a privateer he knew well.
But for now, they only hugged Alina, keeping each other warm against the cold.