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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"ᗯE ᑎEEᗪ TO TᗩᒪK about your little terror child," Baghra utters with her hashed voice. She thwaps her cane on the ground as if to remind herself it's still there and hobbles closer to us. Aleksander stands up stiffly, his guarded nature replacing the vulnerability that he had with me a mere second ago.
"Amelia? What is it?" I fret. "Is she alright?" I stand too, readying myself to go find her.
Baghra chuckles hoarsely. "Oh, she's fine. As happy as one can be after nearly injuring all of her classmates."
"What?" I gasp. "No. She wouldn't do something like that."
"Not on purpose, no," she says. "But unlike her peers, she is losing control of her power as time goes on, not gaining it."
Aleksander steps closer to me, putting a hand on my hip, which has become an unconscious action of his when he needs concealed solace. "Then, she clearly needs a better Grisha trainer," he grumbles.
Her icy eyes narrow in a silent dare, provoking her son's anger. "You know as well as I that I am not the problem. You think it is a coincidence that you grew attached to the girl so quickly?" she quizzes.
"What do you mean?" Aleksander asks coldly.
Baghra takes a few short steps toward her son and looks up at him with contempt. "Like calls to like, my son. The phrase you like to quote so frequently does not just apply to your Little Saint." She spares me no glance, ignoring my presence entirely. The world has narrowed to those two; tension crackles in the air between Aleksander and his mother, as it often does. "Amelia is different. She is special as no one else is and as no one else ever will be. . . Except for you two. It is why you were drawn to her in the first place."
I see the Darkling's patience wither as she continues with her coded words. His brow creases with restrained anger. "If you know something, I demand you tell me," says the Darkling. "Please," he growls through clenched teeth. Baghra just smiles spitefully in return. His hand around my waist grips a smidge tighter.
She says, "If my supposition is correct, you will find out what I mean very soon. And I suggest that you do before someone gets severely hurt by her doing."
"Why must you be so stubborn?" he snaps in frustration.
Baghra turns around and retraces her steps to the door before she says, "I suggest you speak with your daughter." She looks back at me. "You know where to find her."
Then, Baghra was gone.
"Stubborn woman," the Darkling curses under his breath. Then, he turns to me, forbearance unraveled to the utmost degree, and he asks, "What did she mean?"
