Chapter 16: Brandy

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𝕭𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 I can recover, Mal has shoved the table aside and closed in on Sturmhond, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the tent post. Sturmhond winces but makes no move to fight back.

"Easy, now. Mustn't get blood on the uniform. Let me explain—"

"Try explaining with my fist in your mouth."

This should be good.

Sturmhond twists, and in a flash, he's slipped from Mal's grip. A knife is in his hand, pulled from somewhere up his sleeve.

"Step back, Oretsev. I'm keeping my temper for their sake, but I'd just as soon gut you like a carp."

"Try it," Mal snarls.

"I have no qualms. He would have earned it," I comment. "But the blood would be a pain for everyone involved."

"Enough!" Alina throws out a bright shard of light that blinds the men. They put up their hands against the glare, momentarily distracted. "Sturmhond, sheathe that weapon, or you'll be the one who gets gutted. Mal, stand down."

Once Nikolai tucks away his knife, Alina slowly lets the light fade.

"So dramatic," I mutter.

Mal drops his hands, his fists still clenched. They eye each other warily. Just a few hours ago, they'd been friends. Of course, Sturmhond had been a completely different person then.

The prince straightens the sleeves of his uniform. "I'm not proposing a love match, you heartsick oaf, just a political alliance. If you'd stop and think for a minute, you'd see it makes good sense for the country. Plus, Lana is my first choice anyway, no offense Alina"

I raise an eyebrow. Well, great.

Mal lets out a harsh bark of laughter. "You mean it makes good sense for you."

"Can't both things be true? I've served in the military. I understand warfare, and I understand weaponry. I know the First Army will follow me. I may be second in line, but I have a blood right to the throne."

Mal jabs his finger in Sturmhond's face. "You don't have a right to Alina."

Some of Sturmhond's composure seems to leave him. "What did you think was going to happen? Did you think you could just carry off two of the most powerful Grisha in the world like some peasant girls you tumbled in a barn? Is that how you think this story ends? I'm trying to keep a country from falling apart, not steal your best girl."

"That's enough," Alina said quietly.

"You can stay at the palace," Nikolai continues. "Perhaps as the captain of her personal guard? It wouldn't be the first such arrangement."

A muscle jumps in Mal's jaw. "You make me sick."

Sturmhond gives a dismissive wave. "I'm a depraved monster, I know. Just think about what I'm saying for a moment."

"I don't need to think about it," Mal shouts. "And neither does she. It isn't going to happen."

"It would be a marriage in name only," Sturmhond insists. Then, as if he couldn't help himself, he flashes Mal a taunting grin. "Except for the matter of producing heirs."

Mal surges forward, and Sturmhond reaches for his knife, but I see what is coming and send out my own powers. Tendrils of the night sky immobilize them.

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