Plotting & Fedyor Friendship

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Baghra's POV


I was in my hut waiting for the tea to boil whilst contemplating what in the world I was going to do with this blasted Sun Summoner. She's a child and can barely light anything more than a candle can. The power is there but she's holding herself back because of an otkazat'sya boy.

I rubbed the tension that was forming in my temples and sat back in my chair, the warmth of the fire in front of me seeping into my bones.

Then there was the demigod.

She was something different. Something dangerous.

Her summoning is so unlike the Tidemakers but that's not that worries me. What worries me is her.

Her capabilities and mind are things that should not be so close to my son. She is a warrior who is capable of killing without hesitation. Her allegiance to Alina Starkov is strong but after what happened...that may soon change.

She is volatile and reckless. Unstable and leads with her heart more than her brain.

Something that could very well get her or someone else killed.

A high pitched whistling broke my thoughts and I turned to the pot that was hung near the orange flames. I rose from my seat and grabbed the hook that was leaned against the stone wall and carefully lifted the burning, water filled kettle onto the cold ledge of stone that was next to the hearth.

As I set the pot down, I paused when I realized what I could do. Something to get my son away from the girl who could be a powerful weapon in his army.

I brought a cup from a shelf to my right next to the kettle once it had cooled enough and poured the steaming liquid. As I set the pot down and grabbed the cup to go back to my seat, I started to stitch together my plan to part Persephone Jackson and my son.

Now, to get her alone. I think it's time she learns the truth about my son.

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Persephone's POV

After Aleks and I made it back to the Little Palace, we ate lunch in his rooms since he didn't typically eat with the other Grisha in the dining hall. It was different to not eat somewhere so crowded or loud but it was...a nice different.

It's also annoying that food coloring isn't a thing here.

The only thing that was close enough to blue food were blueberries.

After we were done, a maid came to collect our plates and we were left sitting on his bed once again, just facing each other. There was some time between lunch and Aleks' next war meeting so he wanted to spend it contemplating his new mark.

He gently left the sleeve of his shirt rolled up past his elbow so the trident could easily be seen by the both of us as he laid his arm on my knee that was propped on the bed.

"Do you know what this could mean?" he asked softly.

I couldn't help but let my fingers trace the edges of the tattoo, shivering at the feeling that rushed through me as I did so but couldn't find a good enough reason to stop.

"No. But I could ask my father."

"Your father?" he questioned as his eyes switched between my roaming fingers and my face.

"Yeah. He may not know but he could look into it on his side," I shrugged.

Aleks hummed before letting his gaze fall solely on his forearm permanently marked in black. I kept my eyes on him, though, and to my relief, he didn't look angry or upset but rather intrigued.

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