audience with the Queen. And I was going to be given a Grisha’s kefta .
“Genya,” the Darkling called after us, “the kefta will be black.”
Genya drew a startled breath. I looked at her stunned face and then at the Darkling, who was already turning to go.
“Wait!” I called before I could stop myself. The Darkling halted and turned those slate-colored eyes on me. “I … If it would be all right, I’d prefer to have blue robes, Summoners’ blue.”
“Alina!” exclaimed Genya, clearly horrified.
But the Darkling held up a hand to silence her. “Why?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
“I already feel like I don’t belong here. I think it might be easier if I weren’t … singled out.”
“Are you so anxious to be like everyone else?”
My chin lifted. He clearly didn’t approve, but I wasn’t going to back down. “I just don’t want to be more conspicuous than I already am.”
The Darkling looked at me for a long moment. I wasn’t sure if he was thinking over what I’d said or trying to intimidate me, but I gritted my teeth and returned his gaze.
Abruptly, he nodded. “As you wish,” he said. “Your kefta will be blue.” And without another word, he turned his back on us and disappeared down the hall.
Genya stared at me, aghast.
“What?” I asked defensively.
“Alina,” Genya said slowly, “no other Grisha has ever been permitted to wear a Darkling’s colors.”
“Do you think he’s angry?”
“That’s hardly the point! It would have been a mark of your standing, of the Darkling’s esteem. It would have placed you high above all others.”
“Well, I don’t want to be high above all others.”
Genya threw up her hands in exasperation and took me by the elbow, leading me back through the palace to the main entrance. Two liveried servants opened the large golden doors for us. With a jolt, I realized that they were wearing white and gold, the same colors as Genya’s kefta, a servant’s colors. No wonder she thought I was crazy for refusing the Darkling’s offer. And maybe she was right.
The thought stayed with me through the long walk back across the grounds to the Little Palace. Dusk was falling, and servants were lighting the lamps that lined the gravel path. By the time we climbed the stairs to my room, my stomach was in knots.
I sat down by the window, staring out at the grounds. While I brooded, Genya rang for a servant, whom she sent to find a seamstress and order up a dinner tray. But before she sent the girl away, she turned to me. “Maybe you’d prefer to wait and dine with the Grisha later tonight?” she asked.
I shook my head. I was far too tired and overwhelmed to even think about being around another crowd of people. “But would you stay?” I asked her.
She hesitated.
“You don’t have to, of course,” I said quickly. “I’m sure you’ll want to eat with everyone else.”
“Not at all. Dinner for two then,” she said imperiously, and the servant raced off. Genya closed the door and walked to the little dressing table, where she started straightening the items on its surface: a comb, a brush, a pen and pot of ink. I didn’t recognize any of them, but someone must have had them brought to my room for me.
With her back still to me, Genya said, “Alina, you should understand that, when you start your training tomorrow … well, Corporalki don’t eat with Summoners. Summoners don’t dine with Fabrikators, and—”
I felt instantly defensive. “Look, if you don’t want to stay for dinner, I promise not to cry into my soup.”
“No!” she exclaimed. “It’s not that at all! I’m just trying to explain the way things work.”
“Forget it.”
Genya blew out a frustrated breath. “You don’t understand. It’s a great honor to be asked to dine with you, but the other Grisha might not approve.”
“Why?”
Genya sighed and sat down on one of the carved chairs. “Because I’m the Queen’s pet. Because they don’t
“Genya,” the Darkling called after us, “the kefta will be black.”
Genya drew a startled breath. I looked at her stunned face and then at the Darkling, who was already turning to go.
“Wait!” I called before I could stop myself. The Darkling halted and turned those slate-colored eyes on me. “I … If it would be all right, I’d prefer to have blue robes, Summoners’ blue.”
“Alina!” exclaimed Genya, clearly horrified.
But the Darkling held up a hand to silence her. “Why?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
“I already feel like I don’t belong here. I think it might be easier if I weren’t … singled out.”
“Are you so anxious to be like everyone else?”
My chin lifted. He clearly didn’t approve, but I wasn’t going to back down. “I just don’t want to be more conspicuous than I already am.”
The Darkling looked at me for a long moment. I wasn’t sure if he was thinking over what I’d said or trying to intimidate me, but I gritted my teeth and returned his gaze.
Abruptly, he nodded. “As you wish,” he said. “Your kefta will be blue.” And without another word, he turned his back on us and disappeared down the hall.
Genya stared at me, aghast.
“What?” I asked defensively.
“Alina,” Genya said slowly, “no other Grisha has ever been permitted to wear a Darkling’s colors.”
“Do you think he’s angry?”
“That’s hardly the point! It would have been a mark of your standing, of the Darkling’s esteem. It would have placed you high above all others.”
“Well, I don’t want to be high above all others.”
Genya threw up her hands in exasperation and took me by the elbow, leading me back through the palace to the main entrance. Two liveried servants opened the large golden doors for us. With a jolt, I realized that they were wearing white and gold, the same colors as Genya’s kefta, a servant’s colors. No wonder she thought I was crazy for refusing the Darkling’s offer. And maybe she was right.
The thought stayed with me through the long walk back across the grounds to the Little Palace. Dusk was falling, and servants were lighting the lamps that lined the gravel path. By the time we climbed the stairs to my room, my stomach was in knots.
I sat down by the window, staring out at the grounds. While I brooded, Genya rang for a servant, whom she sent to find a seamstress and order up a dinner tray. But before she sent the girl away, she turned to me. “Maybe you’d prefer to wait and dine with the Grisha later tonight?” she asked.
I shook my head. I was far too tired and overwhelmed to even think about being around another crowd of people. “But would you stay?” I asked her.
She hesitated.
“You don’t have to, of course,” I said quickly. “I’m sure you’ll want to eat with everyone else.”
“Not at all. Dinner for two then,” she said imperiously, and the servant raced off. Genya closed the door and walked to the little dressing table, where she started straightening the items on its surface: a comb, a brush, a pen and pot of ink. I didn’t recognize any of them, but someone must have had them brought to my room for me.
With her back still to me, Genya said, “Alina, you should understand that, when you start your training tomorrow … well, Corporalki don’t eat with Summoners. Summoners don’t dine with Fabrikators, and—”
I felt instantly defensive. “Look, if you don’t want to stay for dinner, I promise not to cry into my soup.”
“No!” she exclaimed. “It’s not that at all! I’m just trying to explain the way things work.”
“Forget it.”
Genya blew out a frustrated breath. “You don’t understand. It’s a great honor to be asked to dine with you, but the other Grisha might not approve.”
“Why?”
Genya sighed and sat down on one of the carved chairs. “Because I’m the Queen’s pet. Because they don’t
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