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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"YOᑌᗰᗩY ᗯᗩᑎT to get some rest. It is a long ride to Amarat Jen," the broad, muscular soldier says as best he can in Ravkan.
My senses are on high alert. These are soldiers of the Queen who has been tormenting my family after all. But he isn't wrong. I should rest before I get to the capital city of Shu Han. Who knows what awaits me there.
Hesitantly, I curl up on the cushion and squeeze my eyes shut. All I see is the darkness of the back of my eyelids for what feels like forever. Then, finally, my body relaxes, and I float away into my own little dream world. Usually, my dreams are frantic, nightmares about my waking hours, but not this one. This dream is calm and peaceful. I find myself engulfed with black sheets. A warm fire crackles in the corner of the bedroom. I turn my head to the right and find Aleksander looking back at me.
"Saints, you're perfect," he mumbles into the curve of my neck as he tugs me closer to his comforting warmth.
The smile on my face grows as I wrap my arms around him. "I was about to say the same thing about you."
He chuckles. The sound makes my insides tingle. "I am many things, milaya, but perfect is not one of them."
I frown and then say, "You are perfect. At least to me."
I watch closely as his fingers curl around the hem of his nightshirt. He readjusts to pull it off, revealing a large, raised scar extending across his heart. Subconsciously, I know he doesn't really have a scar there, but in the dream, it seems so real, like I know it as intimately as the rest of him.
"I am not perfect," he asserts.
My index finger lightly traces the rough skin of his scar. I respond, "Your imperfections are what make you perfect." I hold up my left hand to display the round scar on my palm from so long ago when I hid my true self from the grisha tester. Our scars are what remind us of the past and how we were able to heal from it. To me, recovery from our past is far more important than trying to achieve the impossible idea of perfection. "If you were 'perfect,' you wouldn't be my equal."
"Hmm," he hums softly, bringing my body further into the curve of his. "Then, I suppose we are perfect for each other," he says. I smile in response. His arm tightens around me, lightly at first, then he continues to press me into him until there is no space between us. "That is until you chose to leave."
My eyes grow wide. "Aleksander, you know I didn't want to—" He holds me tighter, stealing the air from my lungs.
"You ran away from power like you always do. You left me and ran to an uncertain death at the hands of Shu Han. Why?"
"I want peace!" I rasp.
"Liar. You are just running from the burden that we both share. I have carried the burden of power, of eternity, for centuries, yet you can't even bear it for a year. You are weak."
