A year after Alina Starkov tears down the Shadow Fold, she is finally able to settle into her peaceful life. There is no more war with Ravka. The Darkling, once her enemy, is now a loyal, protective husband, and a father to their adoptive daughter...
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ᗩᗰEᒪIᗩᖇᑌᑎS TᕼᖇOᑌGᕼ the hallway leading out of the Grand Hall. I thought Aleksander might let her go off on her own, but he is not too preoccupied with his scheming to correct her. "Amelia," he calls. "Bedroom."
Her shoulders slump and she huffs in disappointment before sulking back to our bedroom: the gilded jail cell.
I glare at Aleksander, wondering when he will let us live normally again. When his fear of losing us will subside. His long legs carry him at a swift pace. I practically sprint to catch up with him, grabbing ahold of his arm to get him to listen.
"Aleksander, I know that look. You are obsessing over Morozova just like you used to. Please, just let this go."
"I'm not going to put a matter this significant aside, Alina."
"I know, but—"
He puts a finger to my lips to hush me. I try to voice my disdain, but he keeps his pointer finger pressed to my lips. Then, Aleksander grabs my chin and pulls me inches away from his face. "Ilya Morozova is alive, after centuries of believing otherwise. I will seize this chance to discover why he sought out our daughter. He must have a reason. He always does."
He glimmers with elation, but not the kind that births from innocent curiosity. This is derived from lunatic fixation.
"Leave Amelia out of your obsession for Morozova."
He shakes his head while holding my face between his palms. "That would be equivalent to dismissing the Fjerdans as a threat in the Ravka-Fjerdan War. Amelia is the center of all this. If she would wear the amplifier, we might discover why Morozova sought her out—"
"No!" I say fiercely. Memories of the Darkling binding the amplifiers to him and I, creating an unbreakable connection, run wild in my mind. Tears sting my eyes to remember the helplessness I felt being bound to a man like a slave in chains. "Amelia made her own choice. I will not let you enslave her to an amplifier as you did with me thrice! You will leave her alone, or I will not hesitate to take her with me until you decide otherwise."
His face flashes with astonishment, which turns quickly to bitterness, but beneath that, through our connection, I sense fear. Fear of being alone, of being abandoned. He towers over me. I hadn't noticed it before, but the silence of the empty palace is now deafening as he scowls down at me. "Do not threaten to leave." His words are a plea masked by a demand.
"Or what? You're going to force me to stay?"
His eyes soften, and with a sad demeanor, he states, "A year ago, I kept you here when you wanted to flee because I thought that was the only way to have you. I was wrong." He holds my hands gently below our hips. I can see how much it took to admit he was awry. That is how I know he is being sincere. "I should have acted in a way that would warrant me deserving you, and keeping you prisoner did not achieve that. I know I still don't deserve you."
