chapter eight, this is the end

𝕷iya

            THE LITTLE PALACE was beaming with the mysterious assassination of General Zlatan. Many thought that the Darkling's visit finally finished this deal, but accusations against him didn't come from West Ravka. Instead, Zlatan's family and other First Army Commanders blamed Shu Han, who was known to send assassins to deal with important matters.

            Even the King knew that one General killed another, but not even he had something to say to the Darkling and went with the story he proposed instead; and for the first time, Liya understood why.

            Liya hasn't seen the Darkling ever since she woke up in her bed after fainting in that dungeon. It has been three days. Other Grisha didn't even note her disappearance from the dining hall, her silent lingering at the back of the class. She finally felt invisible.

            However, she felt like a small child after being scolded and placed in the corner by an angry teacher. Her wish to leave this place was certain and he used his power against her to knock her out and bring her back in here. It angered her, truly angered her, that he thought that he can just have her here and just use her whenever a situation like this will arrive.

            It didn't matter that she was his soldier. That her duty was to serve him and, if needed, give her life for him. All that mattered to her, was that he didn't respect her enough to tell her about the plan. Tossing her rights into it, and getting captured again was pure torture for her. No one deserved to be treated like that, touched like that, and used like that.

            It made her finally understand her role in this society. She was a doormat. People constantly walk over her, stuffing the heels of their boots, and wiping the mud off. Once used, never going to look new again. No one will want it. No one will need it. She was just a thing others stomped on.

            Genya tried to ask what happened, but she didn't cooperate in explaining. After all, the older Safin warned her about powerful men, about the Darkling exactly, and she still put a little ounce of trust in him and it backfired. It wasn't easy to admit that she gave into the velvety voice of his, of his appearance in all of the right moments – Saints, he manipulated her into trusting him so easily.

            It was embarrassing.

            And because of that, she knew she had to leave.

            A set of knocks reached her ears. One short and three fast. It was Genya. Liya didn't reply, knowing she will enter soon and within the opening of the door, a rushed voice reached her:

            "Liya," she impatiently started, "the King is demanding an audience with you."

            Raising from the seat, almost like a rocket, she winced from the pain, grasping the bed with one of her hands since her head got dizzy, "Why?"

            "You travelled with the Darkling to West Ravka and after the assassination happened..."

            Hearing her mention the General, it twisted her stomach in pure rage: "Is the King accusing me of something?"

            Genya closed the door, coming closer, her voice lowering, "The King is an idiot. He has to show his authority – of course, he doesn't think it is your fault. But the Darkling has been off after this and the King is worried."

            Liya stayed silent.

            "I know something happened in West Ravka and I couldn't care less if you killed General Zlatan or if the Darkling did. Everyone suspects it was the Darkling anyways," Genya admitted, "I know something happened to you as well and I know you don't want to tell me anything, but the King is going to pry. If there is any information that you cannot tell me, under no circumstances you cannot tell him as well."

            Liya felt a bitter taste in her mouth. She felt horrible for not telling her sister everything, but what happened in West Ravka was just embarrassing and she knew it. She won't tell anyone what happened about it, not to the King for sure. Yet she still could not understand how she was related to anything of this. 

            "Liya," the concerned voice of Genya reached her, "what happened?"

            Taking a deep breath, she sat back down on the bed, placing her hands in her lap and clasping them, she fought the urge between saying everything and being silent. Eventually, she spoke up:

            "General Zlatan wasn't supposed to die. I'm sure that he was supposed to be publicly executed for his crimes."

            The bed moved beside her. Genya sat down.

            "So the Darkling did kill him?"

            Liya nodded.

            The older Safin sister let out a small sigh, "He used you, didn't he?"

            The familiar rage flushed her body again, filling her veins with pure sadness and embarrassment as she chomped on her lips tightly, forcing herself not to shed any tears. The urge to tell her everything was more tempting than ever. The need to be held in someone's arms and just cry her soul out, place it on the platter and give it to others seemed so far away, almost like a dream.

            It wasn't because she didn't trust Genya. But she wasn't completely content with telling her everything. She has burned too many times and just three days ago, someone used her idiocy against her and she wasn't completely sure Genya wouldn't do the same. It was rude of her to think like this since Genya did nothing but help her these past few weeks, but she just couldn't let herself be open like this. At least, not now.

            "I should've listened to your advice better. I've learned my lesson," she finally spoke, her voice rougher than usual.

            A hand was placed on her shoulder and it took every strength in her body not to flinch. It was such a soft gesture, such a soft stroke and it threw daggers into her heart – one by one. She understood that Genya comprehended the situation and she didn't ask any questions, easing her down. If she would – she would break apart.

            Breaking down was something Liya couldn't allow herself to do. Especially, when the King demanded for the audience that basically meant that she will have to look like a very friendly girl, who is very anxious about what has happened.

            That's why she stood up, smoothing down her silk kefta and she raised her chin up, "I will go to the King after I talk with the General."

            "I don't think seeing the Darkling is a great idea, Liya," Genya admitted, grasping her sister's elbow and wrapping her arm around hers. "He is different now."

            "Different—how?"

            "Mood swings."

            Oh, so did the King also think that she was responsible for the Darkling's mood swings as well? Was this a joke?

            "It doesn't bother me," Liya lied. Of course, it did.

            "He can be violent."

            "I know."

            "Then you shouldn't go."

            Liya felt the anger bursting out already, "I have to! I won't be afraid of him like everyone else. I can't allow myself to fear him when I am in his territory. If he has unfinished business with me – so be it."

            Genya didn't try to change her mind and that eased her down. Mumbling a soft apology, she felt bad for raising her voice at her sister when she was trying to help her, but she felt just a little bit better after this outrage.

            Without talking, they both walked to the office and as they got closer, both of them squeezed together closer as they heard that the Darkling was raging at someone in his office. No, he was straight up fuming at the poor person, screaming without any mercy.

            They both stopped at the door and it soon opened. She didn't even ask who it was as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. She wanted to have some alone time with that man, even if she knew that his yelling will be heard by almost everyone in the Little Palace.

            Being in his office felt threatening, just like always. She never felt completely safe and this feeling has only deepened – she didn't feel safe at all. Wiping her sweaty palms on her kefta, she tried to compose herself as she walked into the lion's den and she probably won't get out of here ever again.

            First of all, these three days she openly barricaded herself in the room, not making it into the mentoring sessions even if Fedyor was urging her.

            Secondly, the Darkling blamed her for General Zlatan's death. She was sure of it.

            Thirdly, she showed him that she is able to stop someone's heart in a state of pure panic. She didn't tell him that that's how Fjerdans realised she was a Grisha and that she knew all those days that she is able to do so much more than feel some emotions and quicken hearts.

            Lastly, she was sure that he will want to use her again and she cannot let that happen.

            "So, after three days you finally show up?" His voice wasn't velvety. It was rough, like gravel, deeper by a few octaves, slightly groggy – it was threatening.

            Ignoring the shivers and the pulsating need to get away, she stepped forwards, knowing there will be a huge table in front of her and she placed her hand on it, for support: "I came to inform you that I'd like to leave the Little Palace. Seems like you were right – certain emotions do cause abilities to break through, but I do not wish to continue my mentoring."

            She hated that she couldn't see him at this moment. But she knew that he was piercing her with his look and perhaps, not seeing it was making her feel just a little bit braver.

            "Is that why you came in here? To tell me you want to leave?" His voice was inflating fear in her chest with each word.

            "Yes. I'd feel safer being out of here."

            "Safer?" He scoffed.

            Turning her head to the side where his voice came from, she held her chin high, "You surely don't expect me to feel safe around you, do you?"

            A chuckle left his mouth, "Yet you are alive."

            "No thanks to you."

            "I know you are mad at me, but only I can help you use your abilities. You are a Grisha – you belong in here."

            Now she was the one to chuckle. Was he trying to manipulate her again? "Mad at you? I never want to do anything with you again."

            "You don't understand why I had to do that," his voice moved closer, silent footsteps appeared in front of her and she could feel his scent.

            It was so alluring, so lovely and yet, the fear only deepened.

            "You used me. Could've made me your equal, but you chose to use the situation I am in for no reason at all."

            "You would've never agreed upon the plan," he admitted.

            Of course, she would have never agreed. Being captured again was something she never wanted to experience.

            "Then you should've found someone else for this plan—oh wait... You respect everyone else," her words were like venom and she was saying them without any remorse.

            If he will kill her for this – so be it.

            She could hear him breathe in sharply, the proximity between the two closing, but she didn't move – she won't show that she is intimidated by him.

            "Zlatan wasn't supposed to be killed."

            Liya chuckled, "I'm not the one who killed him."

            "He touched you," he gritted out those words and she felt confusion surround her.

            "You allowed this to happen. Why are you surprised that the captured ones are being touched? Didn't you plan that as well?"

            "Did Fjerdans touch you?"

            Breathing in, nothing left her mouth. That was too far. Her hand clenched the soft fabric of the silk and she stepped back, not allowing herself to even think about the time she was captured by Fjerdans—their hands, all over her body—no...

            "Did they touch you?" His voice only raised and she took another step back, her hands stretching out in a defensive motion.

            "It's none of your business," she gritted out, feeling weaker than usual as her head was slightly spinning.

            There was silence after this and it destroyed her. His words circled in her mind that Zlatan wasn't supposed to be killed. She knew she wasn't the one who killed him and he cannot be blaming her for his death. She didn't do anything. She didn't even know back then that this was all a plan.

            "They touched you." This time it wasn't a question, it was a statement. His voice seemed defeated and her face twisted in pure pain.

            Why did this matter? She clearly meant nothing to him if he used her like that.

            "They did," she agreed, blinking faster as the tears were urging to fall. "And the worst was that I thought being a Grisha will bring me the security everyone talks about. I was wrong. Instead, everything happened all over again even if I was supposed to die with Fjerdans. So either you kill me now and get it done or I leave this place."

            "Do you really think I'd kill you?"

            "You already did by choosing to use my fear against me. And don't think I don't know that you will do it again if you will find a reason."

            "You don't understand why I did it! You have to understand!" his voice raised and she flinched, grasping the end of the table.

            "Understand what? By killing Zlatan, you did a favour to Grisha because he traffics them? Oh, I do know that! I was there!" her voice raised as well. "You destroyed my dignity. You chose to ignore my fear and used it against me. Do you think you are the only one to use the fact that I can't see against me? You are not!"

            He stood silent and she continued:

            "I couldn't count on my fingers how many times I was placed in situations I had no control over! 'Oh, let's blame Liya just because she can't see!' Do you think it's easy to understand that you will never gain respect? That you will be pushed away, underestimated, left there to be used? This will be the last time I am encountering you."

            With those words, she turned to the side, feeling the way her cheeks were burning from the crashing rage and she stepped a few steps forward, only to be grabbed by her elbow and yanked back, her side hitting his chest.

            His scent once again – alluring and dangerous.

            His grip was metal on her elbow and she didn't allow herself to squirm in order to break free. It was as if her mouth would be sewn shut, her limbs would refuse to move and she would stand in a state of panic, waiting for this to end sooner. It was a moment of weakness for her, but it was either this or breaking down into tears and neither seemed bearable.

            "Everything I have ever done was to protect my own. I admit, putting you in that situation wasn't something I'm proud of," his voice was silent, almost familiar, brushing against the bare skin of her neck. "You hold so much power inside of you that you cannot leave. You can't leave."

            He almost sounded desperate, but that angered her even more.

            "So you could grasp my power?" she scoffed.

            "So we could put an end to this war."

            His breath was warm against her skin and the rage, turned to him, was only boiling even more, "I don't believe you."

            "You will. Just stay."

            He almost sounded like he means it. She managed to move back away, from his mesmerising touch and she had to snap out of it. His voice sounded so nice asking her to stay, but the embarrassment and the hurt of trusting him were keeping her in the clear.

            "Goodbye, General."