"you want freedom, I can grant it to you."
"do not give me hope. that is a luxury I cannot afford."
***
{S&B s1-?}
{the darkling x oc}
{through heaven's eyes :: book one}
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☼☼☼☼☼☼
ZOYA AND HER UNIT LEFT to prepare the new skiff the next day, leaving Reyka alone with only the Darkling and Ivan for company. A few of the oprichniki gave her wary looks as she passed through the camp, the bright blue of her kefta one of the only spots of color now that most of the second and first army had made their way to Kribirsk.
At first Reyka was put in charge of training new recruits, specifically Inferni and Squallers the same way Zoya had been, but about a week at that gig, she'd been reassigned.
There'd been nothing unusual about the request at first.
The Darkling had plenty more of Etherealki he could put to use even with Zoya gone, and Reyka knew from the gleam in his eye everytime they met that he was seeking her out for something completely different.
"You requested me?" She asked, hip cocked as she stood before the wooden desk. The Summoner was surrounded by parchment and papers, but yet everything was perfectly tidy. He didn't even look up as he responded, "Yes. How much war have you seen, Reyka?"
The sound of her name in his mouth made her skin crawl. But still she remained impassive. "Against Ravka or in general?"
He brought his gaze up to meet hers, furrowing his brows at her statement, "Have you been part of a war that I do not know about?"
Reyka stayed silent, biting down on her cheek as she mulled over her words. They'd just slipped out. They always tended to do that even back at the Little Palace. Mayakovsky had pressed her on the importance of choosing your words carefully, in learning double meanings so one was never left unarmed.
But subtlety had never been Reyka's strong suit. "I have been part of hundreds of wars, General."
The gleam in his eye was back and he gestured to the seat beside him. "Please," The Darkling's voice was soft, almost childlike, "Tell me."
It was an order not a request.
Reyka leaned back against the cushioned chair, the knot in her stomach growing heavier and heavier with each breath she took. "In here, surrounded by finery and Heartrenders and the King's favor, it's easy to believe that the only war is against the Ravkans." She remarked, bitterness coating her tongue, "But out there, beyond the ranks of Second Army and First Army there are a million wars being waged that you don't know about." Reyka pressed her lips into a thin line, recalling the group of Kerch immigrants that had found their way into Os Alta at one point. Most of them were Suli. Her people. And most of them bore the mark of slavers on their wrists.
The Darkling leaned forward, his fingertips brushing against hers, his voice low and concerned, "So tell me."
"Why?" Reyka asked, red hot blood boiling in her veins, "So you can go straight to the King and label me a traitor?"
