CHROME ━ alina starkov

i.

ISSORIA UNWITTINGLY began her day, ignorant to the future's plans for her. Today would be the day her whole past would flash before her eyes. A crashing train running off the rails and smashing into the ruins of her present life. Old memories and new ones commingling in the same place.

She arose from her bed, patting down the covers and arranging the comforter to align with the fringe of the throw pillows.

Luxury was one of the many facades of the Grisha. While she considered herself fortunate for what she had— as in comparison to others in poorer nations and poorer conditions— she knew it was all wealth that would never belong to her. She was a lowly servant, but a worker for the lavished king.

And Issoria couldn't help but think she would prefer to sleep on the ground every single day, to be another pawn— though a different one, as she was still one— upon a battle field— then to lead this tragical separation from the rest of the world.

They all feared Grisha for the reputation that heavily hovered over their heads.

Issoria could hardly leave this palace. It was a prison decorated in jewels and embroidery and fake smiles.

Yet she could not do anything about it.

This prison had its wardens, and they would not like it if one of their own fled from them. Not to mention, prejudice was dangerous. The influence Grisha held over the country was astounding, but outer people would not hesitate to harm a single one, loose from its links and chains.

"Issoria? Could you replace the sheets in the king's bedroom on your way to training? I have something else to attend to right now and we can't afford to forget about this," a girl said, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing at Issoria. Genya Safin was one of Issoria's closest friends that she had managed to make over the years of living at the Little Palace.

Sometimes the two would chat over the gossip led about a few of the queen's handmaidens, or perhaps new initiates having just discovered their Grisha blood, and the foolishness of their first couple days living at the palace.

They were bright eyed and eager to please, usually ecstatic of the opportunities they truly believed would come their way. Sadly, those fantasies would be washed out the door the second they realize the true interest the king held in bringing Grisha here. In doing so, those tiny little lights that flickered over their heads would crush into smithereens, glass shards breaking havoc in their minds. Eventually they would realize they aren't as special as the test certified they would be. And that Grisha tried to humble down the magic they practiced by dubbing it the 'Small Science.'

The two girls liked passing time sharing news to one another, though their friendship never seemed to run deeper than the daily light gossip they exchanged.

And Issoria did have rather a lot of trouble to attempt to trust anyone besides herself. And even that was a bit of a stretch. Your own self can be your worst demon, and Issoria feared she did not know herself as much as she thought she did. That would be quite a horrible demon to be unleashed— seeing as Issoria's fears commingled into one monster would not be a pretty sight. The last time Issoria let her own wrath get the better of her, regret had hollowed in her soul for every moment following in which she used Heartrending science.

"Of course." Issoria smiled, though she wasn't quite so eager to be doing the king's laundry again for the third time this week. He stunk of all the wrong things.

The fabric dropped into her arms, weighing them down only slightly as she hurried to the king's bedroom.

Blankets rustling, she waited for the guards to open the doors, one of them standing at the door to look over Issoria's business to ensure her motives were not towards anything that could potentially harm the king.