I was already regretting my decision. “Get him back to classes.”
I watched them walk up the hill toward the lake, then dusted myself off and made my way to one of the smaller training rooms, where I found Mal sparring with Pavel. Mal had been at the Little Palace less and less lately. The invitations had started arriving the afternoon he returned from Balakirev—hunts, house parties, trout fishing, card games. Every nobleman and officer seemed to want Mal at his next event.
Sometimes he was just gone for an afternoon, sometimes for a few days. It reminded me of being back at Keramzin, when I would watch him ride away and then wait each day at the kitchen window for him to return. But if I was honest with myself, the days when he was gone were almost easier. When he was at the Little Palace, I felt guilty for not being able to spend more time with him, and I hated the way the Grisha ignored him or talked down to him like a servant. As much as I missed him, I encouraged him to go.
It’s better this way, I told myself. Before he’d deserted to help me, Mal had been a tracker with a bright future, surrounded by friends and admirers. He didn’t belong standing guard in doorways or lurking at the edges of rooms, playing the role of my dutiful shadow as I went from one meeting to the next.
“I could watch him all day,” said a voice behind me. I stiffened. Zoya was standing there. Even in the heat, she never seemed to sweat.
“You don’t think he stinks of Keramzin?” I asked, remembering the vicious words she had once spoken to me.
“I find the lower classes have a certain rough appeal. You will let me know when you’re through with him, won’t you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, did I misunderstand? You two seem so … close. But I’m sure you’re setting your sights higher these days.”
I turned on her. “What are you doing here, Zoya?”
“I came for a training session.”
“You know what I mean. What are you doing at the Little Palace?”
“I’m a soldier of the Second Army. This is where I belong.”
I folded my arms. It was time Zoya and I had this out. “You don’t like me, and you’ve never missed an opportunity to let me know it. Why follow me now?”
“What choice do I have?”
“I’m sure the Darkling would gladly welcome you back at his side.”
“Are you ordering me to leave?” She was striving for her usual haughty tone, but I could tell she was scared. It gave me a guilty little thrill.
“I want to know why you’re so determined to stay.”
“Because I don’t want to live in darkness,” she said. “Because you’re our best chance.”
I shook my head. “Too easy.”
She flushed. “Am I supposed to beg?”
Would she? I found I didn’t mind the idea. “You’re vain. You’re ambitious. You would have done anything for the Darkling’s attention. What changed?”
“What changed?” she choked out. Her lips thinned, and her fists clenched at her sides. “I had an aunt who lived in Novokribirsk. A niece. The Darkling could have told me what he meant to do. If I could have warned them—” Her voice broke, and I was instantly ashamed of the pleasure I’d felt at watching her squirm.
Baghra’s voice echoed in my ears: You’re taking to power well.… As it grows, it will hunger for more. And yet, did I believe Zoya? Was the sheen in her eyes real or pretense? She blinked her tears back and glared at me. “I still don’t like you, Starkov. I never will. You’re common and clumsy, and I don’t know why you were born with such power. But you’re the Sun Summoner, and if you can keep Ravka free, then I’ll fight for you.”
I watched her, considering, noting the two bright spots of color that flamed high on her cheeks, the trembling of her lip.
“Well?” she said, and I could see how much it cost her to ask. “Are you sending me away?”
I waited a moment longer. “You can stay,” I said. “For now.”
“Is everything all right?” Mal asked. We hadn’t even noticed that he’d left off sparring.
In an instant, Zoya’s uncertainty was gone. She gave him a dazzling smile. “I hear you’re quite the marvel with a bow and arrow. I thought you might offer me a lesson.”
Mal glanced from Zoya back to me. “Maybe later.”
“I look forward to it,” she said, and swept away in a soft rustle of silk.
“What was that about?” he asked as we began the walk up the hill to the Little Palace.
“I don’t trust her.”
For a long minute he said nothing. “Alina,” Mal began uneasily, “what happened in Kribirsk—”
I cut him off quickly. I didn’t want to know what he might have done with Zoya back at the Grisha camp. And that was hardly the point. “She was one of the Darkling’s favorites, and she’s always hated me.”
“She was probably jealous of you.”
“She broke two of my ribs.”