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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ᗩᗷOᑌT SI᙭ᑎIGᕼTS have passed. Each time the bright sun is smothered by darkness and my chamber becomes pitch black, I etch a mark into the concrete wall. I take comfort in being oriented to time, though finding the ambition to keep track is becoming increasingly taxing. What is the point if this is my eternal prison?
I wish I could rip my stomach out of my body. Then, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. The last bit of wheat bread León gifted me only lasted me an additional day. To occupy my endless time and distract myself from the hunger, I have begun to gather sewing needles and the fabric serving as my bed. With scraps of thread scattered on the ground, I start stitching together the pieces of fabric so that it might work as better cushioning on the hard ground. I was never good at sewing, and my fingers hurt from pricking them with the needle so many times, but it will suffice.
I lay my finished cushioning and whole blanket on the ground, looking down at it proudly. My smirk fades as my stomach growls loud enough that it echoes off the walls. A long groan erupts from my throat. I sit on the fabric with my head resting on the wall, and I close my eyes tightly.
I jump when I hear shuffling from outside. Suddenly, the door opens. León comes in, shutting the door quietly behind him, with tea and a bit more bread. He hands it to me. I start with the tea to ease my scratchy throat before I say, "You can't keep coming here. You said so yourself, if you get caught. . ."
"I cannot just turn a blind eye to your existence up here."
I set the teacup down on the floor and then look closer at the bread he gave me. I bring it to my nose and smell the familiar scent. A smile forms on my lips. "A garlic butter roll?"
"I hope that is alright. It is all I could salvage from the kitchen's leftovers."
"It's just fine," I reply. There is a short pause. ". . . My daughter loves these."
"Do you miss her?"
"To no end. My husband, too."
He looks at me curiously. "From the stories I've heard, that man does not deserve your love."
I shake my head and say, "Some of the stories are wrong. Not all of them, but some. And everyone deserves love. It's whether they work to keep that love or let it slip away, and Aleksander has fought strenuously to keep my love. He deserves it more than anyone I know."
León leans against the table at the other end of the room, legs crossed, and says, "Then why are you here?"
"I told you already. I don't want anyone else hurt because of me."
"You know, I've been thinking," he claims suddenly, "about your question: Why do I have faith in you? I know my answer now."
I sigh. "Alright." My hand briefly gestures for him to proceed.
