chapter nine, waiting

𝕯arkling

            LIYA WILL NOT LEAVE THIS PLACE. He won't allow it. With that being said, he alerted both Fedyor and Ivan, to put some guards outside her door and monitor each and every step of her in this Palace. If she didn't want to stay here – he will have to make her stay, because there was no other way. She was a Grisha and she belonged here.

            The issue of General Zlatan's death was solved. In fact, he didn't even think that carrying an unconscious Liya back to the Little Palace, would get him a great story to say to convince the idiot King. None of the high-rank people blamed him for what happened, because putting on an act of a scared man with a fainted woman in his hands spoke for itself.

            The assassination happened when they were visiting. Liya got terribly scared and she fainted as soon as those people got into the mansion. The Darkling was forced to run away with her, for their own safety and everyone bought that story. It might have not eased the warning alarms of a Civil War, but it got rid of unnecessary dangers and that idiot, who trafficked Grisha.

            The Darkling was in a foul mood because his plan didn't work the way he wanted it to. He wanted to kill two rabbits in one shot, but at least no disaster occurred. At first, he was blaming her for his impulsiveness in killing Zlatan, but then it seemed to fade away quickly.

            She didn't show up for three days. Not showing up in the dining hall, not coming for the lessons, not even the garden. She barricaded herself in the room, not letting anyone in except Genya. At first, he didn't really think much of it – she was hurt and he has betrayed her. But then, when she finally showed up and dropped that nonsense about leaving – he was raging.

            "Goodbye, General."

            Her words rang inside of his mind at any given opportunity. Yet he felt at ease, knowing that he ordered the guards to stay outside her door and not let anyone in or out. He knew that one way or another, she will come to terms and start working with him again.

            She killed five soldiers with a simple movement of her wrist. In pure rage and panic. She was marvellous.

            The man had enough morals left to understand that what he did was wrong. Nonetheless, it was important. All of his life he was doing everything to protect Grisha from the horrors they have to face and pushing Liya into complete darkness was low of him. She did seem weak, gullible, and lonely and it seemed like it wouldn't be much damage to use her for this plan, which he very well ruined out of his own impulse.

            Hearing her say that she was leaving, made his heart hammer uneasily. Guilt. It was unfamiliar almost, a feeling that was unwelcome inside of him. He noticed the way she teared up when she admitted that Fjerdans touched her and that it was foolish of him to place her in the same situation. He realises that now. All he has to do is hope that she'll understand.

            Now, he had to wait for the other high-rank people to come to visit the King after the assassination and see how the situation will move on. There will be some disarray and some threats related to him, but it wasn't the first time he covered up a murder.

            The distant clinking of the heels made him huff out some air. The fierce steps belonged to the stubborn Squaller and for some reason, he wasn't in the mood to face her outrages. But here she was, the door slamming the wall as she showed up with a twisted face.

            "Guards? For Liya?" She sounded more confused than mad. He was surprised she wasn't yelling.

            "Do you have a problem with something, Zoya?" the Darkling leaned back on his chair, relaxing his shoulders a little bit as he felt exhausted.

            The woman walked closer, pushing her hands on the other side of the table, pushing her weight forwards, "There is too much fuss about the sightless one. What did she do for the guards to watch her room?"

            "She wants to leave."

            Zoya's eyes sparkled, "Then let her leave. Problem solved."

            His lips curled into a satisfied smile. It almost seemed like the raven-haired Squaller only waited to hear about her departure.

            "She proved to be valuable."

            "Everyone in the Palace knows that she is one of the weakest Grisha. What's so valuable about her?" Zoya pried.

            "She can stop someone's heart out of pure fury," he informed, remembering the way those five soldiers dropped on the ground, lifeless.

            Zoya hummed, sitting on his table, not fully facing him as she looked through the window. Brushing her hair away from her face, she spoke: "Why does she want to leave then? This is the best place for any Grisha to be."

            "It doesn't matter – she'll come to her senses eventually."

            The woman looked at him and he knew that look too well. It was seductive as her fingers were softly trailing shapes on his mahogany table. "After you took her for mentoring, you barely notice—others."

            The man chuckled. Zoya would never admit that she lacked his attention, not wanting to sound desperate. But here she was – sitting on his table, looking at him seductively; desperate. He rose from his seat and walked around the table, standing right in front of her as he hooked one finger beneath her chin and raised it, so their eyes could meet.

            "By others... You mean yourself?"

            Her lips pressed together, suppressing a smile, "I believe it's not very nice of you to exchange me for someone, who has very little potential."

            Smirking, he replied, "Exchanging is a very serious accusation, Zoya."

            "All of your attention has been on her," she admitted, grasping the opening of his kefta and pushing him to her, making him stand in between her legs. "I don't like sharing."

            Within those words, their lips crashed against each other, sending their bodies through a familiar wave of warmth. Zoya made him forget and he devoured the warmth of her body, wanting to forget the frustrations, and the anger that always surrounds him. In a way, she felt delicate, but she was a fierce woman, who craved for him more than he realised.

            Their kisses were always messy as no romance followed. It was pure desire, animalistic and wild. Hands tangled in each other's hair, bodies aching for closure, the breaths short and contained. It was something they both agreed on without words – to give out bodies, without intertwining souls and it was delightful.

            A distant knock was heard and Zoya released a very displeased grunt against his lips, making him pull away. She seemed disappointed and quite frustrated from the disturbance that was glistering in her soft crimson cheeks. The view made him chuckle as he pushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as he walked to the door, fixing his kefta on the way.

            Opening the door, a very flustered Fedyor stood on the other side: "General! There has been a situation!"

            Zoya appeared beside the Darkling, eyebrows furrowed as disturbances were quite rare in the Palace. Must've been something in the camps or attempted assassination.

            "What happened?" The General's voice dropped lower, slightly husky.

            Fedyor pushed his lips together for a few seconds as if hesitating, tapping his fingers against his thigh.

            "Fedyor," the Darkling grumbled, urging the Heartrender to not infuriate him even more.

            "Liya is gone."

            The Darkling didn't waste a second, pushing Fedyor out of the way as he walked down the corridor. With each step he took, he was feeling angrier and angrier. He must've underestimated her determination to leave this place as well as the hurt he caused her. At the same time, he wondered how that happened if she has been on the watch ever since she left his office.

            Who helped her?

            Walking to the room, the two guards were very flustered, avoiding his looks, but it didn't matter now – he will deal with them later. He stepped inside, finding a very clean room of Liya. He hasn't been in here once before, but the interior seemed simple and everything was neatly organised. Too small for his liking, but it really seemed like Liya. It even smelled like lavender in here.

            The red, silk kefta was neatly folded and placed on the bed. Opening the door, he found that all of her given clothing was left hanging as well as her other things. Biting the insides of his cheeks, he gazed around the room, feeling how dizzy he felt within each second and he bit back the urge to scream.

            Damn it.

            "How did this happen?" his rough tone finally reached the two guards that flinched as soon as they caught his attention. In the distance, Fedyor and Zoya stood as well.

            "We were guarding this room as you told us – no one got in or out," the smaller guard admitted, his voice slightly shaking.

            The Darkling stepped closer, making the guard flinch, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them. The urge to smack this idiot was growing with each second. "Then how did she leave?"

            "We-we—uhm, we wanted to bring her the dinner, but as we opened the door – no one was there," he informed.

            Closing his eyes, he ran his fingers through his raven strands, gently tugging on them in pure distress. It seemed like his mind was completely empty – not a single thought dared to enter. Suddenly, an immense pain came crashing inside of him, gut-wrenching. Placing his hands on his waist, he turned around, looking at the folded kefta that she must've worn just earlier today.

            Remembering her anger, her glossy eyes filled with bitter tears, not allowing herself to cry – he knew he messed up. It was hard for him to admit that he ruined his plan himself because he could not see past the rage of Zlatan touching her. When, at first, he wanted to use her weakness for a better purpose, now she seemed fragile, in need of protection.

            It was odd for him to feel this way – remorseful. It was easy to brush off mean comments about him since he has been doing this for centuries. He knew that he was doing everything for a better tomorrow, but now he has taken everything too far.

            For Saints sake! What if she didn't run away? What if someone took her?

            Turning around, he caught a glimpse of the way the guards flinched before he spoke up: "You two get some backup and search the area around – she must be close."

            The guards nodded and rushed out of the room. Turning to Fedyor, the Darkling continued: "Find Genya and get her to me immediately!"

            Fedyor copied the movement of the previous guards and left his sight. The Darkling took the red kefta from the bed and he marched out of the room, without glancing at the Squaller again.

            Each of his steps brought out the shadows that were hiding within himself. He felt bitter, he felt dizzy, and he felt out of the place only to realise that he was worried about her. Pressing the kefta tighter in his grip, he managed to keep his face expressionless while his mind was panicking.

            He'll go mad if he won't find her. He has to find her.

· · ─────── ·♔· ─────── · ·

            THE SUN WAS ALREADY RISING, painting the sky in the deepest shades of orange and rose and Liya was nowhere to be found. He hasn't slept one bit, pacing around his office, barking orders to the guards to keep on searching, but she was nowhere.

            To his solace, the oldest Safin showed up in his office, after what seemed to be years, and he scrunched his nose at the encounter. Genya seemed completely different from Liya if not for the same shade of red hair. For this reason, he didn't want to even look at Genya.

            "Where's she?" he asked, his voice groggy.

            Fixing her white kefta, the red-haired gave him a careless look, crossing her hands over her chest, "Far away from here."

            Of course, Genya helped her escape. Who else could help Liya to become untraceable? That thought only angered him more—didn't Genya understand that the safest place for Liya was this Palace? No place out there is going to be safe for her, full of dangers and threats.

            "Why—" his lips twitched, "would you help her escape?"

            "That's what she wanted."

            "You searched for her for years and now you just help her go out in the danger?" the disbelief in his voice almost sounded like rage.

            "This place isn't the best. In fact, you are the one who made her want to get away. I just fulfilled her wish," the red-haired informed.

            So Liya did leave because of his actions. Feeling bitter, he walked closer to the Tailor, forcing himself to take in a deep breath: "I had to do this for a better cause."

            "No," she instantly disagreed, "you did it for yourself."

            Biting the insides of his cheeks, he forced himself to think straight, "Where is she, Genya?"

            "I'm not telling you."

            The frustration was boiling, making him feel as if he was trapped in a tiny place. Taking a step closer, he raised his head high: "Don't play with me," he threatened.

            However, the Tailor didn't even budge. Her look remained the same – victorious. "You can't do anything to me, General," she mockingly said his title, leaning closer. "Without my help, you will never find her."

            The urge to silence her was growing with each second, but he knew she was right. Genya was the only person that knew where Liya was and all he could do now was to expect some sort of stupidity from her side that would lead him to the youngest Safin.

            The Darkling realised that he has to wait and he loathes waiting.

author's note:

that's the end of part one! The next chapter will be the beginning of part two! Thank you all so much for the support on this book! And Happy New Years!