Chapter Text
I used to think that I
Was running from the night,
But I’ve been following behind
The light all this time
Alina was nine when she saw him for the first time.
She wasn’t even supposed to be downstairs. She was meant to be sleeping. Safe and sound in her pink-hued bedroom, but there was laughter coming from the party downstairs and she was simply too curious not to go find out what it was all about. She knew some of the people that were there, some had arrived before her bed time, and those she had been allowed to greet. They were all clad in beautiful clothes and sipping on expensive champagne, and the tree Alina had helped her dad decorate a week ago was glistening in the low lights.
Her feet were padding across the upstairs landing before she could stop herself. She was just too intrigued, and who could blame her? Her parents’ parties were always attended by many, and her mother’s cooking may have been a part of the reasoning, but her father’s reputation was certainly a more likely cause – everyone wanted to be associated with one of the highest selling writers in Ravka. They were always carefully curated, and never had too many or too few people invited. They were anticipated. They were exciting. They had people attending from all over the country. Alina just wanted a glimpse.
He was standing in the front of the room, telling some story she couldn’t recall, whenever she thought about that evening later into her adolescence, but she did remember being entirely mesmerised by him, just as the rest of the room, with every face turned toward him and hanging on his every word.
Aleksander her mother had explained the following morning, when she’d asked whose voice she’d heard from her room. She didn’t tell her mother about having snuck down the stairs to have a glance. Not about how his smile had made her grin in turn, and certainly not about how he had been the only one to notice her presence there, shooting her a wink through the doorway before she startled and hurried back up and into her bed.
Alina did not say anything more about him, but her mother smiled at the girl knowingly as she continued making Solstice morning pancakes. Those were a tradition. Really, pancakes were always available in the Starkov house on Sunday mornings, but on Solstice, Alina’s mother would put chocolate chips in them, and it made her more excited somehow than the presents did.
Her father, however, was a different thing entirely. Alina could always depend on his relentless gossiping to find out whatever she wanted. Who was Aleksander? Oh, they used to go to school together. Why was Aleksander invited? Well, he’d just moved back to Keramzin to care for his mother. What happened? Nothing, darling, she’s just very old.
The girl found herself wondering about this mysterious Aleksander quite a bit over the next few days. She tried to spot him in the centre of town when her parents took her shopping, but all she could recall was dark hair and even darker eyes, not much more. He had been beautiful, though. She did remember his beauty.
But there were no silk-smooth-haired heads on the street, and no enigmatic eyes to find. And he was not present at to the New Year’s Eve bash either. Alina waited. And even when she was allowed to stay up to wait until midnight struck, and even as she watched the door for the handsome man in his handsome black suit ever so carefully, he never appeared.
“I’ll save you some caviar for breakfast,” her mother whispered as she put her daughter to bed that night. Mother was still in her dress, the sparkles from its sequins dancing on the ceiling. She would return to the party, her daughter remaining in bed, not sneaking down to see what’s happening and not looking for a glance of someone that’s not there. Alina scrunched up her nose at the thought of eating caviar in the morning. Or at all, for the matter. Her mother laughed. “What about some tangerines then?”
“I’d like the tangerines,” Alina laughed, and with a kiss on her forehead and the switch of her bedside lamp being turned off, she was left to sleep for the night.
She dreamt of him.
It was then that she understood – she was in love. It was only years later when looking back that she registered just how ridiculous she had been. A childish adoration and awe. But she would also come to understand that she was very early and oddly on-the-nose with her feelings. She began to think of him as this Saint-like being, a miracle man who only showed up once and then never again, Sankt Aleksander. She began wishing her father would invite him to visit again. He did not.
She went back to school after the winter holidays and continued to think about him. When she was done with her work faster than the other children, she would draw him in her notebook, or doodle her initials next to his. A.S+A…. She didn’t even know his last name.
Alina would ask her dad where he was going in the evenings, and who he was meeting with when she and her mother stayed home to bake muffins and watch movies. He tended to go to a lot of work dinners, but he would always return before Alina’s bedtime, and he seemed to be a bit annoyed whenever he had to attend them, the homebody that he was. He continued promising Alina he would take her along when she got older, and she waited patiently each of those nights, hoping that the next time he had to attend one of those dinners of his, he would finally take the girl along. She waited, diligently and without complaint, but each time he would simply return with a boxed-up dessert and a kiss on her cheek.
Alina wondered if Aleksander was allowed to attend these dinners.
It was months later, once she’d convinced herself that she was over him, in that ridiculous, childish way that primary school girls tended to consider themselves mighty older and wiser than boys their age, that he arrived in her home once again. It was her father’s birthday, always celebrated on Spring Equinox weekend, and many of his friends were invited. So was Aleksander. Finally.
Alina knew most of these people, had known them for years. They’d watched her grow up and always had a nice thing to say to her upon their arrival. About how much taller she had got, and how pretty she was growing up to be, how she was a spitting image of her mother, none of them using the condescending tone some people tended to use in the small town when talking of Shu women. These were her parents’ friends, after all.
Not Aleksander, though. He had but a smile for Alina. Nothing to comment on, nothing to compliment. Where the others would tell her how they remembered her to be a foot smaller, and how beautiful her brand new dress was, Aleksander’s eyes betrayed nothing but polite disinterest. He had winked at her on Solstice. That teasing charm was not present today. He fell into conversation with her dad then, and she watched him from a safe distance, afraid to annoy either of the men.
“Alina, dear, will you help me with these?” her mother’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts and the busy job of looking at Aleksander. She diligently brought the many dishes her mother had made to the dining room table, expertly dodging her father’s guests with the advantage of being shorter, faster and less inebriated than them.
There was music coming from the record player and pleasant conversation all around. Alina had always liked her father’s friends. They weren’t too loud or annoying, and they were smart. Really, really, scary smart, just like her dad. Where her mum was the greatest chef she could ever imagine, her dad could talk circles around anyone in the world. Her greatest wish had been to be as smart as him one day. Intelligence, Alina, is your greatest defence, he would always say.
“No, I swear to Saints, you have no idea what you’re talking about!” her father was telling someone, and the woman he was talking to laughed melodically, red hair cascading over her shoulders as she did.
“Genya, don’t listen to him, he’s a pretentious idiot,” Alina’s mum called out, having reached the table as well, and repositioning the dishes her daughter had brought from the kitchen into her own vision.
“I’m right! Allie, bring me my copy of Crime and Punishment,” her dad said, still chuckling, and Alina was more than eager to oblige, running off to her dad’s study. He had thousands of books in there, extensively procured over the course of her life and before it, carefully accumulated, and alphabetically organised. Unfortunately for her, organised by author.
She glanced around, the high shelves, intimidating as ever. She was normally only allowed to touch any of these books in the presence of her father, and she had read many of them in this very room, on the upholstered window seat, soundtracked by her father’s soft typing on his laptop – a sound she associated with peace, serenity and home. A quiet Sunday, her homework finished, mum baking just a few feet way.
“Dostoyevsky,” a deep voice startled her. Alina whipped around to see Aleksander leaned in the doorframe, smiling when he noticed he’d frightened her. “I’m sorry, really, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was on my way to the bathroom. Just noticed you looking in need of aid.”
The way he spoke, like he was a character from one of her father’s books, all while being so young, seemed mesmerising to the girl, and now that he’d actually spoken to her, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Where her thoughts had lingered on this man for weeks and weeks, she now had an interaction to accompany her reveries.
“Thank you,” she said meekly in a squeaky voice, and he huffed an amused breath as he left. Oh no, had she made it obvious that she found him to be the most fascinating creature on the face of the planet? Would he think she’s funny for having a silly little crush on him? Would he go around telling his friends about the little kid who’s obsessed with him?
She rushed to find the D section of her father’s book collection, finally locating the silver-lettered spine to get it back to her father in time for him to finish proving his point to the beautiful woman he’d been talking to.
When lunch was served, Alina found herself safely nestled between her parents’ chairs, with a plate piled full of delicacies, and happy people all around her, she couldn’t stop smiling at just how lucky she was, even if no one here really spoke to her. She enjoyed observing people more anyway.
Her friends always wanted to come to her house after school, and her parents rarely denied the opportunity. She knew her life was one others looked up to, and she knew there were worse places to grow up than under the roof of Mei and Anatoli Starkov, even if they’d had her far too young in the first place. She knew Mal struggled to get along with his father, and she knew Zoya’s family couldn’t afford to send her to the same school as everyone they’d gone to kindergarten with. Alina had always been taught to understand and appreciate just how good she had it.
It was after the meal, when her father was making drinks and her mother was speaking to some of their friends, when Alina felt utterly alone once more. She knew it was only polite of her parents to entertain their guests, and at least she wasn’t being sent off to bed yet, but she felt she could use some company. It was moments like these that made her beg her parents for a dog. Or a baby brother, whichever one was easier.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any puzzles laying around, would you?” a whisper sounded from off to the side, and this time she was more prepared to find Aleksander talking to her, even if it was still mesmerising and nearly unbelievable. “I don’t know most of these people,” he said in another whisper, as if conveying the biggest secret he had, “and the ones I do, I have talked to for so long that I am coming down with a concerning case of ennui,” he smiled conspiratorially.
Alina laughed, enjoying the thought of him telling her a secret. It made her fingers shake in excitement. This was something only the two of them knew and no one else was privy to.
“Sorry,” he said, glancing down to his glass, “ennui is–”
“I know what it means,” Alina interrupted instantly and a little rudely, but she was overly eager to prove to him her wits, and what easier way was there than to positively shove them in his face?
“Of course, you do,” he smiled kindly, small crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes, “you wouldn’t be Anatoli’s daughter otherwise.”
She felt a strong sense of pride in that statement. It was nice to be acknowledged as smart, even if he’d implied she got it all from her father. Hiding her blush and satisfied smile, she turned to find a specific jigsaw she’d always liked of a vineyard during golden hour, lit beautifully by the last rays of copper autumn sunlight. Usually, on her own, it took her at least a few hours to finish, but she had a sneaking suspicion that with Aleksander’s help, they might get through it much faster.
He took the box from her hands, as if it was the heaviest burden imaginable, the gentleman, and followed her to the kitchen. It was, thankfully empty, the lunch having been finished, canapés having been served, and her mother busy entertaining the guests. The room was all theirs.
Aleksander, as Alina came to find out, was quite apt at jigsaws. He quickly found the corner pieces and made swift work of the edge, while she began placing small clusters of similar colours to build the picture more quickly.
“Have you known my dad long?” she wondered, having trouble placing this handsome, enigmatic man with the nerd she knew her father to be. Sure, the age difference between her and her parents wasn’t too large, considering they’d had her when they were only nineteen, but they had always kept the boundary between friend and parent clear, and Alina had been raised like any other child. It wasn’t difficult to see her parents as grown-ups. It was, however, puzzling to look at Aleksander as an adult instead of this mystery creature that she’d been thinking about for so long.
“Since middle school,” Aleksander remembered, “he was always the coolest guy around.”
Alina giggled at the thought of her father, always so calm and buried in his writing, walking around school and breaking hearts. “Were you cool?” she wondered, the idea of Aleksander as being someone everyone wanted to be friends with much easier to imagine.
“Are you trying to pull all my secrets out of me?” Aleksander smirked.
“You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to,” the girl shrugged.
“And what will you have me do instead?”
Alina thought for a moment before speaking once more. “Truth or dare?”
The man chuckled deeply, his voice smooth and velvety. “Dare.”
“I dare you to run five laps around my house.”
“You do realise it’s raining outside?”
Alina looked out the window and sure enough it was pelting down. The sky was an uncanny grey and the droplets were large on their descent upon the kitchen windows. The kind that would have her outside, laying on the grass, if it was summer. “Oh,” she grinned, “you’re scared!”
“I’m not scared of anything. I’m the bravest man alive,” Aleksander stated, returning to the puzzle pieces. “In all the world, there is none braver than I! But yes. Truth,” he changed his previous answer.
“How old are you?” Alina asked.
“Twenty…Wait…Oh, no, I’m twenty-seven. Twenty-eight soon. Getting up there.”
Her own parents were already twenty-eight. Well, her dad was, today. She’d never thought they were old. “Twenty-seven is not old,” she said decisively.
“It is, according to my mum,” Aleksander smiled a small smile. She watched him and noticed that it didn’t quite reach his dark eyes. “She really wants me to get married,” he explained.
“Is your mum Old Baghra?” she asked, having heard such a rumour from her friends at school. They all knew of Old Baghra, the reclusive, often angry old lady that lived in that secluded, dark house in the middle of the giant property on the hill, encompassed by trees and shrouded in urban legends.
Aleksander smiled at the nickname. People sure loved to think of his mother as an outcast. “That’s her. She’s not that old, really.”
“Oh, sorry,” Alina hummed, “I’ve never seen her, I don’t think. But anyways, you can only get married when you’re really, really in love,” Alina said, knowing that much.
“Really, really? Are you sure?”
“Completely.”
“Oh, then, I suppose I have to marry my girlfriend,” Aleksander stated, putting another puzzle piece in place. The picture was slowly growing. Alina had been right in thinking that he would be great help in finishing faster than she would have, alone.
“You have a girlfriend?” Alina asked, a strange feeling tugging at her tummy. She thought she had known what jealousy felt like, when Mal kissed Zoya in first grade, but this new fact made her even more upset.
“Yes, I do,” he said proudly, oblivious to the girl’s inner turmoil. “The one your dad was arguing with earlier. With the red hair.”
Alina nodded. “She’s pretty.”
“She really is. You know, I think she’s still on the same subject with your dad. Hates losing an argument.”
“Then I hope she loses this one,” Alina said bitterly, making Aleksander look at her in clear amusement. “To keep her humble,” she shrugged. She didn’t want Aleksander to know she liked him. That would be too embarrassing.
Aleksander’s laugh was so beautiful, she had trouble focussing on finding the right way to fit two sky-coloured pieces together. “That wouldn’t be too bad, actually,” he agreed.
Like clockwork, the beautiful redhead came looking for the man she had every claim to, having located him precisely. “I have been bested. I see why you want to work with him now,” she said in exaggerated exasperation. She shot Alina a bright smile, and she couldn’t exactly blame Aleksander for being with a woman like this. This was an adult. When people described lords and ladies, this person was what came to mind.
“Hello, I’m Alina,” she said, knowing it was polite, and noticing that Aleksander’s girlfriend had failed to be polite first.
“How do you do, Alina? I’m Genya,” she beamed, “mind if I steal your friend?”
“He’s your boyfriend, not mine,” Alina supposed, turning back to her puzzle.
“See you, Lina. We have a game to finish,” he winked and joined his girlfriend. His girlfriend. Alina wondered, if she wouldn’t be a better choice for him to marry. She could be stubborn, as well, but at least she knew when to stop arguing to someone clearly smarter than her.
When the party came to an end, Aleksander kissed Alina’s knuckles, much to Genya’s apparent delight, as the redhead left with a melodious laugh. Alina found it hard to return the smile. A part of her, the one that had very recently reared its head as the girls in her class started exploring mascara and hair curlers, reminded her that she would never be as pretty as Genya. And it hurt.
Shu girls, even half-Shu girls like herself, were never the first ones asked to the school dance, and they were rarely asked to come along to the cinema on Sundays. Shu girls, the very few Keramzin had seen over the years, were glanced at as if they were in the wrong place. Anatoli Starkov had been born and raised in Keramzin, so his wife being from the neighbouring country had shocked the community, but she had been living there for ten years now, and she was no longer the only Shu woman in the surrounding area – now she had Alina to work towards evening the numbers. And yet, it hurt to be picked last and to be overlooked in favour of the blue-eyed, pale-faced girls like Nina.
Upon her return to school, she didn’t tell her friends about Aleksander. She wanted him to be someone only she could think about instead of going around telling everyone else. He lived in Keramzin now. She couldn’t afford anyone else falling in love with him.
She was careful from then on. She had a list of truths and dares prepared in her head, in case she saw him in the market one Sunday, when accompanying her mother, or on one of her usual walks home from school, when her dad would come to pick her up and walk her home.
Aleksander had secured himself a permanent place in her thoughts. She thought of him when going to sleep, she thought of him when watching the Chronicles of Narnia, she thought of him when having breakfast and she thought of him when doing her math homework.
He was her newest obsession. It was unfortunate only that she didn’t know that if fifteen-year-old Alina could reach back and shake her third-grade self out of it, it would be her only wish.
Alina’s birthday was in the summer. She had always despised this. A summer birthday meant she couldn’t bring sweets to school to hand out to everyone in class, and she couldn’t have a party in the bowling alley like everyone always did on the Saturday following their birthday. Instead, she had to call up her friends and all but beg their parents to halt their summer plans and let them come over for a day.
However, her tenth birthday was a special occasion. It was a round number, and that was an impressive deal. A very big deal. So, when she asked her parents if she would be allowed to have a sleepover with all of her friends, Alina was delighted to find that her mother had already arranged exactly that as a surprise.
Alina had seen more of Aleksander since the start of summer, now that she was home every day. He would come over, shoot her one of his brilliant smiles, and then her dad would take him from her, lock the both of them away in his study and work for hours on end. She didn’t even know what it was that Aleksander did for work, and she never had an opportunity to ask.
But sometimes, on some days, he would emerge from his work with her dad and send her another dashing smile, even a wink, if she was lucky, then humour her for just long enough that she had an opportunity to put her foot in her mouth, before he would go back in and disappear for hours. She always said something that made her blush. He always smiled in a way that only worsened it. There were little faint lines in the outer corners in his eyes. They would always crinkle in the loveliest way when he laughed.
The day before her birthday, her parents had to go into town to buy everything for her big day, leaving Alina at home. She had a sneaking suspicion that they were picking up her present, and that was why she wasn’t allowed to go along. Either way, she was not complaining, as the duties of her nanny had gone to Aleksander.
His first suggestion was watching some cartoons, but Alina had already eaten her breakfast with Total Drama Island in the background, and she was only allowed so much time in front of a screen. They opted to read together in the sunlight for a while, but Alina soon grew bored of her book, and needed a new activity. Aleksander offered badminton, she explained that her racket had been broken since the previous summer when Zoya had sat on it and bent it into an odd shape. He laughed and she relished the sound.
When they settled on a bike ride around the neighbourhood, Alina was ecstatic, glad to show Aleksander all the fun spots she had found with her friends over the years. There were plenty of places to play make-believe in, each for a different storyline within the long and extensive narrative they had come up with. Then she brought him down to the creek where they sometimes went for a swim, provided all of their parents had given the green light. The meadow just near the forest that served as a border of the suburbs, where she and Mal would pick flowers for their mums, was their last stop on the tour.
Aleksander listened intently when she told him all of this. Each of her words was met with an encouraging smile, all of her stories with a clever little joke.
They had barely made it back onto her street, when she took a miscalculated turn and her back wheel gave out, spokes screeching as they slid against the concrete, and Aleksander was off of her father’s bicycle before she had even entirely understood what had happened.
The pain on her knee jolted through her leg at once, Aleksander’s careful hands unsure as to where they should go to comfort Alina as tears rushed to her eyes. She didn’t know it, but there was a storm brewing within him.
He should have taken band-aids, he should have noticed the mud before Alina’s bike slid on it. He was such a fool for being so careless and letting her go so fast. Anatoli was going to kill him. The poor child was in tears because of his mistake, even if she was being brave and trying to hold them back.
Aleksander couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a child that didn’t go into a fit of hysterics at the slightest indication of pain. He had always operated under the impression that they all wanted attention at all points.
Yet here was Alina, small, sweet and funny, and doing her best to keep her eyes dry.
She didn’t share any of this guilt. She only wondered if Alexander through she was a giant baby for crying.
“Come here, Lina,” he said, scooping her into his arms. She was almost ten, no longer so small she could be easily carried, but he seemed to have no trouble with it, as he rushed to the door of the house they had crushed in front of.
Alina didn’t see who it was, but the woman sounded unsurprised. It must have been one of the nice ladies who always waved to her and Inej when they rode past, clothes dripping after their swim in the creek.
She was quick to produce a band-aid and some hydrogen peroxide, which Alina always hated. But she could be strong for Alexander. And once the wound had been properly covered, this man, her saviour and her own personal angel, placed his lips on top of the plaster in a quick peck. It may not have been much, but she would think of it often and for years to come. His eyes, so dark and worried, glancing up at her through long lashes, his kiss so small, yet making her light-headed.
Alina hoped she wasn’t blushing.
“I’ve never known how plasters work,” she said unsurely.
“Well, you see, it binds your skin together, so that it could heal itself,” Aleksander explained, but Alina’s eyebrows remained knitted together. “Your body knows how to cure itself. It’s a small bit of science.”
“A small science?” she wondered.
This made him chuckle, “That’s right.”
The kind woman brought Alina an ice lolly for her pain. It was peach flavoured. Aleksander used the moment it took Alina to finish her treat to pick up their discarded bicycles. She noticed the lady smiling at Aleksander in that way women sometimes tended to do with her dad, especially once they’d heard his name. An Os Alta Times Best Selling author’s name will do that. But Aleksander needed no such bragging in order to receive the same attention. All he needed to do was grin and help a little girl with her scraped knee.
Aleksander walked the two bikes home as Alina limped alongside of him. Her knee still hurt despite the ice lolly, but it would be an impressive story to tell at her birthday sleepover. She wondered if her parents would be angry with Aleksander for the wound, even though it hadn’t been his fault, not entirely. She knew the way home from the creek. She knew every twist and turn, and she knew what happened, when you steered into mud. Now she knew what happened, when you tried to take a turn in it, as well.
To her surprise, her parents did not scream and shout at Aleksander. Something about…children being children? Alina was just so relieved to know Aleksander was not shunned from their house for his wrongdoings, she almost forgot all about her hurt knee. She had also been quite grateful that Aleksander himself hadn’t been angry with her for not minding the road more carefully.
When Aleksander left that day, Alina hugged him for the first time. “Thank you, Sasha,” she whispered, picking the nickname in hopes of him liking it. He had called her Lina several times that day, so it was only fair that she had a nickname for him, as well. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was thanking him for, but he pressed his cheek into the top of her head as he returned the hug.
Alina felt like the luckiest girl alive that day.
Alina and Aleksander’s game of Truth or Dare had become a never-ending inside joke. A secret only the two of them knew about. Whenever he would emerge from her father’s study, she would already be waiting on the stairs. She would never tell anyone, but she sometimes sat there for hours, afraid to miss him. She was convinced no one knew, though there was little her mother hadn’t noticed about the girl, and she found Alina’s crush on Aleksander adorable.
“Truth or dare?” she would whisper to Aleksander who would already be sporting a knowing smile, expecting her to be somewhere around.
“Shall we do a dare today, Lina?” he would whisper back, his voice echoing in the large home.
“I dare you to scare mummy,” she would whisper, giggling to herself, and Aleksander would gasp in mock outrage, calling her rude and a menace as she struggled through her near-silent fit of laughter.
He would still oblige, though. He always obliged.
Her own turn was almost always a dare, rarely would she give into his eyebrow wiggling and devilish smirking. But, whenever she would, he knew it was a special occasion and he needed to get his hands on some hidden truth.
“Is Zoya a good friend?” he once asked conspiratorially. Aleksander had met the girl a few times when she’d come over to the Starkov house during the summer. It had always been with other friends around, because Alina didn’t exactly enjoy her company on her own.
“Not really,” Alina shrugged, “but excluding people is not nice,” she explained, repeating what her mother had told her before. What Alina hadn’t known, when Mei had given her this advice, was that she understood there were times when Alina would have to step over herself and be the bigger person, ignoring her dislike for certain people, because the alternative would make her seem mean, and neither of them could afford being the reason their country’s reputation was ruined in Keramzin.
“That’s very true, Lina” Aleksander had smiled somewhat proudly and continued on his way before she could ask him for his choice in the ever-looming question of Truth or Dare.
Alina’s mother thought she might grow out of it soon. The girl was mesmerised by intelligent men, having grown up so close to one such example, who read her stories before bed and told her of places they had visited, and she would soon begin looking at boys her own age. Surely, the attention of peers would become a much more urgent achievement to strive towards than that of someone so much older.
Mei trusted Aleksander. Having heard stories of all the trouble her husband had continuously got into with him as boys, she knew he was a good friend and a decent man. She never imagined a gentleman such as Aleksander to truly exist, especially seeing as men in their twenties rarely had their lives figured out, but when she saw him with Genya, she was always somehow shocked. He was so doting and caring, always worried about the woman’s comfort, always making sure she was happy. Mei couldn’t believe men like him were still left on this earth.
Apart from her husband, of course. That one she liked to joke to have had trained into the perfect spouse.
But Aleksander’s return to Anatoli’s life seemed to be a blessing. He was writing more again, constantly encouraged and motivated by his old school friend, and he was now being fought over by three publishing houses, just because someone had heard that the great Anatoli Starkov was working with the mysterious, illustrious Aleksander Morozova on his fourth book.
And of course, more importantly, Aleksander had brought a certain boyish charm and carelessness to Anatoli, which his wife adored. The man deserved to have friends. Ones that hadn’t left for bigger cities after school. Ones that didn’t abandon their friend because he married someone from a country Ravka had been feuding with for centuries.
She trusted Aleksander with her husband, and she trusted him with Alina. The girl seemed to blush and stammer in front of his eyes at times, but he was good with children. Not only Alina, but her friends, as well. The other girls found him funny and interesting to listen to, only Mal looked a little sad whenever he was not receiving as much attention to from his gaggle of friends as Aleksander.
It was often that Aleksander would be left to watch Alina while Mei was in the shops and Anatoli was fixing some pages in his office. She was a big girl now, smart and trustworthy, but knowing that Aleksander was there, ready to talk to the child and entertain her while her parents were busy, made Mei less hesitant to leave the house.
The one flaw she had to admit about him was his cooking. He would often wander into the kitchen in search of company while Anatoli worked, and if he hadn’t found Alina in his way, he would come to see what Mei was making. Everything she did seemed to impress him to no end. He could barely name the ingredients she used, and always refused to help her out in fear of fucking it all up, but he was such charmingly pleasant company that Mei didn’t mind him lingering over her shoulder and asking a myriad of questions about which ingredient exactly makes dough rise, or why they couldn’t open the oven door for the first fifteen minutes of her having placed the pan inside.
Aleksander was a good man. He didn’t deserve to watch his mother dying without his sister there to help.
Mei didn’t know much about Ursula Morozova, other than her having apparently been the most sought-after piece of candy in school. Whenever she asked her husband about this woman, he would become uncharacteristically nervous, stating that she never interested him. One single time of bringing it up with Aleksander, however, revealed the truth of the situation.
“He tried to ask Ulla to a dance once, and she rejected the poor bastard in front of his entire group of friends,” Aleksander had told her through uncontrollable chuckling. “She was, in fairness, a bitch back then. But she was the reason Anatoli and I became friends, so I can’t exactly complain.”
Imagining her husband being rejected was difficult for Mei. He was a rare gem that people fussed over wherever he went, and as far as she was able to tell, he had always been that way. Mei could not put into words just how curious she was to know more about this Ursula. Was the woman still a bitch? If she wasn’t, why wasn’t she here taking care of Baghra along with her brother?
The old lady was a part of the town as much as any war monument or fountain. Her existence was more of a myth than anything else. Mei had never seen her, this Boo-Radley-like creature that everyone seemed to talk about in hushed tones. Anatoli had told her that their family, several generations back, had been the founders of this town, and Old Baghra was a firm believer that a Morozova has to be in Keramzin at all times. Aleksander didn’t seem to hold the same opinion, and Ulla, having been nowhere to be seen for the past decade, likely had her own disbeliefs, as well. After all, a mother’s superstitions were rarely a reason for her children to get dragged into them.
There was a large, dark house on a hill where they lived and where Aleksander was staying while he was in town. It looked almost as if it had been cursed by witches or those Grisha beings that Mei only knew of from old Ravkan tales Anatoli would read to Alina at night. It was quite scary to look at, and for years before Aleksander came, she had wondered what evil masterminds lived there.
And yet, Aleksander was kind. He was gentle and sweet, and unbearably smart, much like Mei’s husband. And as long as he had a girlfriend by his side, Alina would know to be polite and smart about her affection.
It was still early autumn, school had only barely begun, when Alina found herself on the bank of the creek near daily in the afternoons. She did not tell her friends she was going there, because she didn’t want to swim. She only wanted to be in the place she had shown Aleksander as if it had been a secret to share with him.
They now had several of those. The creek and the meadow were only a little part of what Alina now knew about the man. Their ongoing, longstanding game of Truth or Dare had revealed to her many little facts that helped her build a picture around his beautiful face. She now knew he had a sister, and she knew that Sasha worked in publishing. She didn’t know what that meant it is that he did, but it must be important, if he spent so much time with her father over the summer.
Alina remembered every single thing this man told her. She wrote it all down in her pink diary with the lock. She hid the key under her pillow, so that she knew it was a safe place, and no one would read. No one would know about her crush on Aleksander.
Those afternoons by the creek, she would sit there and write about how she hadn’t seen Aleksander in days, and how it wasn’t fair that her dad got to spend so much time with him, but she didn’t. And when she was finished with putting her thoughts onto paper as her father had taught her, she would go down to the meadow and pick a daisy or a black-eyed Susan and pluck its petals off one by one to see if Aleksander might love her just as much as she did him.
Whenever the last petal between her fingers told her that he loved her, she would put it between the pages of her diary, leaving it there to dry out, so that she could glue it back in later on. All the ones that told her that he loved her not, she would throw away, still attached to the stem, and pretend it hadn’t happened.
Alina was forced to think about school, when term started. She had returned to classes and homework, the never-ending quest to become just as smart as her father. On weekends, they would go on road trips – a new addition to the Starkov family schedule. Mei loved autumn, when Ravka would be bathed in hues of red and orange, and she wanted Alina to see as much of it as possible.
Sometimes, she wondered why Aleksander couldn’t join them. Surely, he wasn’t doing much on the weekends. Surely, he would enjoy the views and sights just as much as Alina did. After all, they had so much in common. And playing Truth or Dare wouldn’t be too difficult in the backseat of dad’s car.
The next time she was allowed to see him was when he arrived to the house, champagne in tow, wordlessly smiling at Anatoli, who didn’t seem to need words to understand something Alina didn’t know. Her father screamed a girlish sound of glee then, jumping into the air, hugging Aleksander tightly and kissing the man on his cheek with a loud smack of his lips, much like the ones he would give Alina when finding her in the kitchen every morning.
Aleksander’s laughter was contagious, and it was a beautiful sound that Alina had come to cherish. She wished she could be the source of his happiness in such a way. She also wished she could be allowed to leave big, adoring kisses on the man’s stubbly face.
They celebrated something Alina was too afraid to ask about that evening. She was thought of as smart beyond her years, reading well above her grade level, and she didn’t want to disappoint her father by not having understood on her own. It was only when mum whispered in her ear that daddy’s getting a three-book deal, did Alina understood a little better.
They spent the evening drinking champagne, Aleksander had even brought a non-alcoholic one, the sweet kind that tasted like elderflower lemonade, for Alina. She may not have been allowed to drink real French bubbly, but she got her own bottle, and she got to watch Aleksander pop it for her.
She really loved her Sasha.
Aleksander loved Alina too.
She was an adorable little force of nature. Always smiling, deep, pronounced dimples rooting in her cheeks. An expressive child. Aleksander always thought she might grow up to be an actress with how easily emotions and grimaces came to her.
And she was funny, the little sacral. There wasn’t a single thing about the child that reminded Aleksander of anything other than Anatoli at her age. She was inquisitive and brilliant and whenever he picked dare, she came up with the most interesting prompts.
He liked children in that way most men in their twenties did – in tolerable volumes, in moderation and as long as they could be returned to their parents at the end of the day. He had never really thought about becoming a parent himself. It seemed like too much work, but if a child like Alina was the outcome, perhaps such hard work was justified.
She never butted in where her childish opinion wasn’t needed, she always expressed herself well and seemed to know when it would be too much. He had seen her writing in an offensively pink diary out in the backyard while he was in her father’s study working. There seemed to be such depth to the little human, he was almost mesmerised.
Almost.
He had to remind himself that he was not interested in being a father. He was not the parental type. Anatoli was, sure, he was a great dad, but Aleksander lacked the patience, and Genya didn’t seem maternal enough to take on most of the responsibility for him.
Mother had begun pressuring him to think about having a family, but Aleksander thought that it was much smarter and much more responsible of him to understand that not having a child was the kinder choice.
Genya was beautiful, and he loved her, to some extent. How could he not, when she uprooted her life to follow him to Keramzin for his mother? She’d had a job in Os Alta. Friends and family, but she had gone with Aleksander. He could marry her, he thought. Sometimes, he considered asking. His mother had given him her ring and her blessing, after all. But something was holding him back. He was happy with her, but not happy enough. He loved her, but not enough the grow old with her.
Perhaps it was selfish of him to string her along just because he feared being alone. Anatoli and Mei had been married for years. Most of their friends who had remained in Keramzin were already wed, and here was Aleksander, with this beautiful girl from the big city, unable to muster up the courage to either marry or dump her.
He may not want children, but he wanted someone to take care of. Something to tie him down a little bit. He went to the shelter that very evening. Genya came along, unwilling though she was, and they picked the only black dog there was. An elkhound. A beautiful mongrel that Aleksander fell in love with right away.
Alina’s excitement for the dog was immeasurable. “Sasha! You got a puppy!” she shouted when Aleksander brought the beast over for the first time. Rushing out of the house so quickly, she almost tripped twice, but there was a dog in her front yard, and even Genya’s presence for the lunch her parents had invited them over for couldn’t flatten her mood.
“A puppy? Lina, that is a full-grown hound,” Aleksander insisted.
“He’s adorable!” the girl squeaked, pressing her face against the dog’s forehead as he sat calmly and panted merrily. She didn’t know at the time, but Genya was watching her in jealous disbelief. The dog was not fond of his owner’s girlfriend, but to Alina, it took right away. “What did you name him?”
“General,” Aleksander answered proudly.
“Such a serious name for such a sweetie,” Alina disapproved. Sweetie, Genya thought with a silent scoff, there was nothing sweet about that bloodhound.
“See? He’s not a bad dog,” Aleksander told Genya quietly, “he’s got no problem with Lina,” he added, turning to the little child. “You’re welcome to call him something else,” he said, chuckling at Alina’s reaction to his new pet. The girl was still scratching General all over, wherever she could reach, and Genya watched as the animal gave no reaction but a pleased attempt to lick at the her little round face.
“Darkling!” Alina announced.
“How come?” Aleksander wondered, kneeling down next to her.
“Because he’s all dark and mysterious, but he’s still absolutely darling. Just like you,” she announced, beaming at him brightly. There was sunshine in her eyes. Pure light in the way she smiled. Adoration when she looked at him.
Aleksander followed Alina inside with a hand around her shoulder, the girl excitedly telling him how happy she was to see a pet in her home and how long she’d begged her parents to get her one. Neither of them noticed Genya trailing along after, having been left behind forgotten.
Having been entirely engrossed in conversation about Darkling, Alina only remembered about her when she heard the woman bickering with Aleksander in hushed tones between lunch and dessert. She was on her way to the kitchen to offer her mother help, when she heard the two of them further off behind a corner. She wasn’t able to make out any of the words they were speaking to one another, but she could tell by their tone that they weren’t happy about something.
“Sasha and Genya are fighting,” Alina announced, entering the kitchen.
“Sweetheart, it is very rude to gossip. And eavesdrop, for that matter.”
“I know, mummy, I’m sorry,” the girl answered bashfully. “Does it mean they will break up?”
“Arguing doesn’t always mean people are going to break up, dear,” mother explained. “Sometimes couples need to talk things out. It is much healthier than letting it simmer inside you. You’ll see when you have a husband–”
“I’m going to marry Sasha,” Alina interrupted, conviction of this fact clear on her little face.
“Remember to ask him first,” Mei chuckled to herself, handing Alina two bowls of homemade cinnamon ice cream to bring to the table.
“I will, and he’ll say yes,” she promised, heading back into the dining room.
Her mother chuckled as she approached her, taking Alina’s face into her hands, “Well, who could say no to you?” she asked and left a kiss on the girl’s nose before returning to serve the rest of the desserts.
Mei would think back on this day. On this very moment. She would wonder if she encouraged it too much, if she should have cut it off at the root. If it had all turned out differently, had she just kept her daughter’s head out of the clouds.
Alina handmade her Solstice present to Aleksander. It was the first one she had finished in anticipation for Solstice. Only when it was done did she move on to her parents’ gifts.
They had learned silk painting in art class, and felt like the navy-blue tie she had morphed into a night’s sky with various blues and blacks would fit Aleksander well. She added a few tiny dots of gold to serve as stars, and when his eyes lit up on Solstice Eve upon opening the little box she had folded out of cardboard and covered in wrapping paper, she couldn’t help but feel proud of herself.
“Alina, you’re a fortune teller, look,” he chuckled, handing her a box in return. This one was expertly wrapped, clearly not by him, in champagne-coloured paper that glistened in the light, with powder blue ribbon tied around it and a little golden sleigh bell hanging from the bow.
She opened the wrapping to find a pair of earrings in the shape of little suns gleaming at her. She stared at them open-mouthed. They were so beautiful, the silver and Swarovski crystals sparkled so bright she didn’t know what to do with herself. She was so excited to wear them that she didn’t notice her mother and father sharing a look.
Alina didn’t know, but Aleksander had gone way over the present budget they had decided amongst one another. Aleksander was a wealthy man, his family had a not-so-small fortune, and he had a great paying job, so he didn’t see why he couldn’t spoil his best friend’s daughter rotten, seeing as he had become much closer not only to Anatoli since returning to Keramzin, but also his family. Alina was a good kid, and she deserved something that glimmered just as brightly as her.
He glanced up at his friends who were shaking their heads, though both unable to hide the smiles spreading on their faces at Alina’s adorably happy reaction. Before Aleksander knew it, the girl was throwing her arms around his neck and squeaking a litany of repeated thankyouthankyouthankyou’s into his ear.
Her smile alone was enough to solidify the decision to spend so much money on a ten-year-old he wasn’t even related to. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d bought her several presents, the way her parents had. And he had spent a lot more on Genya’s necklace, so it wasn’t an entirely unfeasible decision on his part, as far as he was concerned.
Alina’s presents from her parents consisted of things she had begged for all year, but had been forced to patiently wait for instead. Her first phone – a pink, foldable thing that felt like an assault on Aleksander’s eyes with its girly, childish appeal. It looked more like a toy than something she would be able to communicate through, with the flowers running up the outside of it and the little charms tied to one of its corners. He considered his own Blackberry in the pocket of his coat and decided he had made the right decision the day he’d purchased it.
She also received her very own laptop, which was red and made her very excited, an orange iPod that she was almost as delighted to get as she had been the earrings, and a pair of shoes that Aleksander would have never been able to distinguish from the others that children wore these days. But Alina looked happy upon opening the box, so he assumed they were, in fact, special for some reason.
He knew the girl loved Solstice, and he knew she was allowed to stay up as late as she would like this year both on Solstice Eve and New Year’s, so she was an excited little creature that Aleksander was happy to entertain while Genya kept Anatoli and Mei company without him.
Had he known the woman he’d dragged along to this town had been miserable for weeks, perhaps he would have remained next to her, and perhaps then she wouldn’t be on the verge of breaking up with him. But Aleksander had no way of knowing that, so he followed Alina around the giant Starkov house, from room to room, listening intently as she explained to him every little decoration she and Mei had put up together.
Because what Aleksander did know was that Genya had recently begun speaking to him in short-tempered little phrases that drove him insane, and if he could let someone else put up with her for a night, he took that opportunity.
You see, Alina was always kind to him, always excited to see him, and quite funny, if he was entirely honest with himself. Certainly, funnier than Genya, who seemed to have last smiled a week ago. And since it annoyed Genya so much that Aleksander was close to his best friend’s daughter, he wanted to capitalise on it for a few hours.
“Why would you buy those for her? She’s ten, she’ll lose them in five minutes,” was the first thing Genya said to him once they’d left and got into the car.
“Lina’s much more grown-up than you realise,” he scolded, “not that you’ve ever bothered to speak to her long enough to find out.” He ignored Genya’s strange side-eyed look, a suspicion he didn’t yet understand, and continued driving.
Genya did not attend the Starkov New Year’s Eve celebrations. Apparently, she had made plans with friends much earlier, and had headed up to Os Alta to ring in 2013 with them. Aleksander had opted out of tagging along in favour of celebrating with his own friends. So, when he arrived, hilariously sparkly dress shirt clad and sans Genya, Alina was the most excited she’d been since Solstice.
There was music and her mother’s wonderful cooking, champagne flowed just as easily as highly intellectual conversation, and Alina was not only allowed to stay up as late as she pleased, but had also been permitted to invite a friend.
Nina was probably her best friend right now. She was one of the funniest people she’d ever met, and they sat together in every class. She was always smiling and always able to make Alina laugh, so it was to no one’s surprise when Alina invited specifically Nina to her house for the party.
They spent the evening snacking on canapes, not knowing what was on them, and drinking the ginger-flavoured drink they pretended was expensive French champagne. It helped that mummy had allowed them to drink it out of crystal glasses, as long as they promised to be careful not to break them. They had to use their time wisely, as around eleven, Nina’s dad would be picking her up to take back home. They had begged and pleaded for a sleepover, but Nina’s parents had been adamant on her returning home before the new year, so they had to get all of their winter holiday gossip in before then.
Every time Aleksander passed them, he winked, sending Nina into a fit of giggles he seemed to find quite amusing. Alina tried to push down the jealousy she felt bubbling up inside the pit of her stomach. Nina was her friend, and so was Aleksander, so she should have found it funny and sweet, but instead she wondered why Aleksander never winked at her.
According to Nina’s normally highly-respectable and trustworthy gossip, which rarely, if ever, turned out to be untrue, Zoya had picked up conjunctivitis during the break, and Alina almost felt bad for laughing. Zoya was often mean not only to her, but also to many people Alina considered friends, possibly because she was jealous that she had to attend a different school, so knowing that she was suffering throughout the holidays made Alina a sick sort of happy.
She also learned that Mal had become friends with Mikhael, which made her quite happy because that meant he might bother Alina less. She knew he had a crush on her, but her own interest in him had simmered down around second grade. It was, frankly, quite annoying, the way he trailed after her between classes. If Mikhael could take some of that energy and turn it into a friendship between the two of them, Alina would only be thankful.
It was a little unfair then that Nina was taken away from her so soon. She hadn’t seen her since right before Solstice, when the semester ended, and now they barely had a few hours of laughter, when Nina’s father had already called and asked her to get ready.
Alina walked her friend outside, across the dark front of the property and all the way down to the front driveway. She wasn’t normally allowed to walk over the lawn, but there was so much snow on it, and anyway, she had made snow angels with daddy and Sasha on Solstice, so she didn’t see what the big deal was about taking the shortest possible route.
“He’s so hot!” Nina whisper-shouted as they approached the gate.
“Who?” Alina asked excitedly, prepared to listen about another crush Nina had festering on someone at school. Nina had a lot of crushes, and they often changed, while Alina could only think about–
“Aleksander!” Nina squealed.
“Oh, please,” Alina scoffed, trying to hide her dislike of someone else finding Aleksander attractive. He was her Sasha. No one else’s to gawk at. Not even Nina’s, with whom Alina would gladly share anything. “Not you, as well.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?” she asked dreamily.
“Yes, actually. A really pretty one,” Alina said, hoping she didn’t sound too bitter about it herself. She was in the trenches, fighting for this man without him even knowing. She was not about to give him up for someone else, just in the name of friendship.
“Fuck,” Nina sighed, kicking some snow up in a half-hearted tantrum. She had begun cussing more and more. Alina assumed she found it made her seem more mature. Alina wasn’t allowed to cuss, nor did she want to. It sounded so brutal to her. Even the grown-ups around her used such words so rarely, why would she want to?
She hugged her friend goodbye and wished her a happy new year, when Mr. Zenik came to pick her up. She would miss her for the five days she had to spend home before school started, but now that she finally had a phone, they would be texting every day.
When Alina turned back toward her house to head inside, she found a tall, dark frame watching her, champagne flute in hand. “You not cold yet?” Aleksander called over the front yard, and Alina laughed in response, running with all her might towards him and into the house.
“Can’t feel my toes,” she whispered the secret that her parents shouldn’t be allowed to know, seeing as she left the house in her pretty new shoes rather than changing into her boots. Aleksander sensed this and mimed locking his mouth shut with a key and throwing it away, as Alina grinned up at him.
“Warm cocoa, doctor’s orders,” he instructed. There was something different about him. Alina considered it to be the alcohol. He seemed more relaxed and freer than normally. His eyelids hung lower and his voice sounded deeper. She was glad she got to be the one experiencing Alex like this instead of Genya.
Alina had thought she would have no problem waiting up for midnight. In fact, she was quite sure she could make a long way past it, but after the hot cocoa and with the lack of stimulating conversation, she got so tired that waiting up felt more like an imposition than a privilege.
She loitered around the staircase, feeling like if she sat down, she would fall right asleep, so she avoided the living room or the kitchen, where she was usually likely to be found. She was eventually spotted by her father, urging her to retire to her bedroom, adamant though she was to witness 2013 with her own eyes.
“How about this, malishka, I’ll cut you a deal,” he chuckled, wrapping her up in his arms, “I’ll keep you right here until midnight, and then bring you straight to bed, how does that sound?”
“Okay, daddy,” she agreed, wrapping her arm around his middle tightly and letting him drag her over to the rest of the party. She did not have to wait long, even though her eyes were growing heavy against the comfortingly safe frame of her father, and she felt on the verge of dreamland, she did manage to shout along with the rest of the party when it came to the last ten seconds of the year.
Her parents gave her a big kiss on each cheek as midnight struck, mummy appearing as if out of nowhere, then kissed one another as the guests around them cheered and exchanged their own seal of love and promise to be with the same people for the next 365 days.
Alina chuckled happily, watching the two people she loved most in the world in a slightly merry state, and utterly in love as she wished to one day be able to experience herself. She glanced over to the corner of the room where in the darkness of half-subdued light Aleksander stood and watched his best friends with the same feelings written on his face.
If Alina had known Aleksander’s inner turmoil, the emotions he was suppressing of wanting to rid himself of Genya and look for someone who didn’t constantly insist on doing every single thing their fucking way instead of compromising with their significant other, she would have invited him over into their little huddle. But he continued standing there alone, glass of bubbly in hand, more being popped open somewhere in the background, as he smiled at Alina with so much hidden pain behind his eyes it made him want to retch.
True to his promise, Anatoli brought his daughter upstairs to bed, and by the time he had taken off her dress shoes, she was out cold. “Allie, darling, you have to put your jammies on,” father whispered, not letting her sleep as she stirred unhappily.
“I’ll stay like this, it’s not going to be your fault,” she protested groggily.
It didn’t take long for him to convince her. Rather, it didn’t take long for him to begin helping her out of her dress before she was kicking him out of the room to change herself. Anatoli laughed as he left her to it, closing the door quietly.
By the time she was prepared for bed, striped pyjamas on and hair in a careful braid, she began to notice no longer wanting to sleep. But she had already said good night to most of the people downstairs, and she had already changed out of her pretty dress. It wasn’t like she could reappear for act two. So she got into bed and tried her very best to count some sheep.
The damn mutton refused to jump over the bloody fence.
Another forty minutes of tossing and turning later, she heard someone climb the stairs towards the bedrooms. Her own room was closer to the kitchen than it was the main entrance of the house, so it was much quieter where she normally slept. This had been a purposeful decision on Anatoli and Mei’s part, when they’d inherited the house from Anatoli’s parents. They knew they wanted to be the intellectual hub of Keramzin, and Alina would still be very young for many years, needing a quieter bedroom.
Alina and her parents were the only ones who ever came up the stairs from the kitchen. It was far too intimate a part of the house for any of their guests, regular as they were, to dare use. So she headed out of her room to find whichever of her parents it was that had decided on an early night, and was surprised to find Aleksander.
“Sasha?” she asked, her eyes squinting nearly shut as even the low light of the hallway seemed too bright after so long spent in the comfortable shadows of her room.
“Lina, why aren’t you asleep?” he whispered, looking caught in the act.
“Couldn’t,” she shrugged.
“Were we too loud down there?” he sounded worried.
“Not really, I couldn’t exactly hear much. I just…can’t sleep.” Aleksander nodded, at a clear loss as to what he should say now. “Will you read to me?”
“Sure, Lina,” he was still whispering, and his smile was genuine as he followed her into her dark bedroom.
As he glanced around it after turning the light on, his grin only grew. Alina was used to her room. It was not even an afterthought what it looked like. To Aleksander, it was like stepping into her own private little universe. Colourful books littered every surface, all hardback, all special editions of fairy tales and children’s stories. Pink and gold encompassing the space as if it was made out of pure glow, little fairy lights strewn across each surface. Even the dark mid-winter night couldn’t take away from just how transparently Alina this room was. She hadn’t shown him her room when she’d given him the grand Solstice tour of all the decorations Mei had needed her help with. This had been another one of Alina’s secrets. Another one he now knew.
She crawled into her big, puffy bed, resting against the upholstered headboard, and left just enough space for him to climb in next to her. He took his shoes off, but remained on top of her bedding as he waited for her to settle under the blankets and press herself against his arm.
“Alright, ready?” he asked, reaching over to her bedside table for the book that was on top of the small pile as Alina hummed her approval. “Alright, Prisoner of Azkaban, what have you got in store for us?” he wondered and opened it to the bookmark that was placed near the middle of the story.
When Mei came to check in on Alina and found her door ajar, light streaming out of it, she noted that she shouldn’t have been very surprised to find her daughter nestled against Aleksander’s frame. He was fast asleep, as well, cheek mashed into the top of Alina’s head and one of her recent favourite books hugged tightly to his chest. With a breathy, celebration-drunk chuckle, she reached into the room to turn off the light, and left the two to get their rest before heading to her own bedroom.
Aleksander’s mother died in spring. Just as the last remnants of snow had melted and a few shy leaves had begun appearing onto naked tree branches, Old Baghra had taken her last breath. Alina loved spring, because it meant her favourite flowers, irises, were in bloom. Bright blue and otherworldly. Little drops of magic after the cold, dark months of the year. She now gathered a bouquet of them from her back garden to offer as a farewell to Sasha’s mum.
She had never been to a funeral before. Mother had bought a new dress for her, seeing as none of her own were black. It was too thick and itchy, made out of stiff wool, and it wasn’t pretty enough for her liking. Alina added a bow to her hair, leaving half of it down. Wasn’t her hair already dark enough? Did she really have to wear this wretched thing? At least her shoes were nice – black and shiny, also brand new.
Mother and father were quite solemn that morning before they all left to the funeral home. Alina couldn’t understand why. Neither of them had ever met Old Baghra. Perhaps daddy, when he still had been little and he had still been in school with Sasha, but certainly not for years, perhaps decades. But her mum had not even ever seen her.
She understood why Aleksander might be sad. One ought to be, when their mother has passed. She couldn’t imagine the sadness she would feel, if she was going to her own mother’s funeral. The moment she tried to picture such a situation, tears rushed to her eyes and she had to switch her mind elsewhere. Maybe that was what had made her parents so sad. Maybe they were picturing themselves in Aleksander’s place. She had never met either of her grandparents. Both of her father’s parents had died by the time she was three, and her mother’s family had disowned her when they’d learned a Ravkan had gotten her pregnant.
“Darling, are you ready to go?” mother asked, her voice thick as though there was a lump in her throat. Alina nodded. This seemed like one of those days when speaking too much was inappropriate, and smiling – even less so.
Daddy’s car was black. This seemed like a premeditated decision on a day such as this one. There was a surprisingly large number of people in attendance. Alina doubted many of them had ever even spoken a work to Old Baghra. Though, she supposed, neither had she. Aleksander was the only reason she was here in the first place.
The hoard of people in black entered the building slowly, Alina clung to her father’s hand as they followed. Aleksander was already in the large room, standing by the open casket and glancing down as if trying to absorb every last moment of his mother still being above the ground. Alina hadn’t seen a dead body before, but she knew they made them look like they were asleep at funerals.
There was a beautiful woman to Aleksander’s right drawing comforting circles on his shoulder with a manicured hand. She had sunglasses on even though they were indoors. They both looked so similar and so natural in all black, like they were born into the colour Alina never wore. She knew Sasha had a sister, so it was not exactly impossible for her to deduce who this woman was.
Genya was standing near him, as well, but the new woman, the one Alina had never seen before, had taken her spot at Aleksander’s side. It was a little satisfying to see Genya being shunned off of him for a little. Alina knew it was mean of her to feel such vile things towards a woman who has never been unkind to her. She was being sour and unreasonable with no rational cause. These were exactly the sort of things her mother was trying to eradicate from her.
“Always be polite, Alina, towards everyone you see. You never know who holds prejudice against you just because of the way you look.”
Alina walked to one of the chairs, her parents on either side of her. It felt like they were protecting her from the harsh reality of death. But, if that was really what they were doing, why had they brought her to a funeral in the first place?
The service was nice, even if it felt a little stale. There weren’t personal tales, not even from Old Baghra’s children. Aleksander politely thanked everyone for coming to express their condolences, mentioning a few facts about the woman anyone might have been able to find - higher education, dead husband, two children, the works. Aleksander’s sister didn’t speak at all.
When it was everyone’s turn to walk up to the front to say their final goodbyes, Alina felt her knees shake. She didn’t want to look at Old Baghra. Old Baghra was dead. Alina didn’t want to see a dead person. What if her eyes opened? What if she saw her move? She held her bouquet of blue irises tight in her hand as she stood in the surprisingly long line.
Catching Aleksander’s eyes helped. He looked down to see what was in her hand and smiled, something in his sad, reddened eyes softening. It was easier to walk up to the woman knowing Sasha was there. He was a protector and a secret keeper. He would guard her from a zombie apocalypse.
And besides, everyone that said their farewell to the woman got to extend their condolences to the family. So, upon Alina’s turn, she laid the flowers into the woman’s casket without glancing up at her face, only seeing wrinkled hands that lay too still and were coloured too evenly, and a soft hue of pink nail polish on what were sure to by now be blue fingernails. And once she was done, with daddy’s hand on her back, she headed towards Aleksander. The man bent slightly the moment he noticed Alina walking toward him and accepted her into his arms gladly. “I’m sorry, Sasha,” Alina whispered into his ear.
“Thank you, Lina,” he whispered back, letting her kiss his stubbly cheek. Now, next to the list where she kept tabs on every kiss he had gifted her with, she could add another one of her own.
She waited patiently for her parents to hug the man, watching them love him so much it was no surprise she shared the sentiment. And once it was over, an organ playing a rendition of an old song Alina had heard on the radio but couldn’t name, they left to a restaurant that Aleksander had chosen, with a much smaller party of his closest people.
Genya came along, of course, constantly holding onto Aleksander in her tight-fitting black dress, never letting him out of her grasp. And Alina understood that she wanted to be supportive and comforting, but did she really have to touch him all the time? Alina didn’t need to be held onto at all times. She could walk normally all on her own, and her parents knew this, so why couldn’t Genya understand?
She had to sit too far from Aleksander. His sister was next to him, and then a few people that looked a lot like the both of them on either of their sides, only then were Anatoli and Mei, seated with Alina between the two. Aleksander still looked a little unsatisfied with the traditional placement. Even Genya wasn’t sitting next to her boyfriend.
“Quite the turnout,” a dark-haired older woman announced without even glancing up from the salmon she was slicing up with her knife.
“An act, I assure you, aunt V,” Aleksander answered courtly. The Morozovas were strikingly similar. All well-mannered and carefully-curated. They looked like characters rather than real people. And Alina almost laughed, seeing Genya with her fiery red curls loose across her shoulders and spilling over the tight dress. Even Alina looked more like a part of his family. She was prim and proper in her new dress, her hair was out of her face and despite the shape of her eyes, she still looked like the lot of them with her black locks and perfect table manners.
This was the first time she considered herself meant to become a Morozova.
“People seemed interested in saying goodbye,” a man disagreed with Aleksander, his voice almost disinterested. Perhaps, for most of these people, coming here for a funeral was a terrible imposition that took precious time from their busy days. Alina couldn’t imagine what such rich and powerful people would be doing with their lives, if not attending events left and right.
“Empathetic hunger, that’s all,” Aleksander said as-a-matter-of-factly, “they descend like crows because they are too curious not to find out who could be sad about the death of a woman none of them bothered to get to know.”
His comment was ignored entirely. “So, what’s next for you, Aleksander?” another woman asked, her tone cold as if she wasn’t really interested, only being polite. No one was asking Aleksander’s sister anything.
“Genya and I are going back to Os Alta as soon as the estate is taken care of,” Aleksander announced casually. As if springing this fact upon everyone at the table was just another Sunday lunch. As if Alina’s entire world didn’t come crashing down on her like a bucketful of water.
She glanced up at him, but he was looking at Genya with a private smile. As if moving to Keramzin was just a temporary fluke. A little setback in their big city lives. Alina wondered if Genya had been begging Aleksander to take her back to Os Alta all this time they’d been living here.
Alina stood quickly and rushed off without excusing herself from the table, very much going against the way she had always been taught. She was sure some of the people around the table would think she was just an insubordinate child that hadn’t been told how to be courteous and respectful, but her parents would know she was upset, and, she hoped, Aleksander would, as well.
The restaurant stood on the bank of a lake and there was a terrace outside that would have been nice to sit on, if the weather had warmed up a bit more, but Alina didn’t care about outdoor seating. She cared that the terrace was connected to a footbridge that rounded half of the lake, and she could follow it to get away from everyone.
Aleksander was leaving her. Aleksander was going to his big city and his important job and he would forget Alina ever existed. She was so happy that they were friends now. He was the reason to look forward to weekends when he would come over for lunch. He talked to her like she actually interested him. He played her silly games, he bought her expensive presents…
She sat on the edge of the plank, her feet dangling above the surface of the water, shoes not even close to touching it, but the chill of the early spring day still nipped at her skin. It was so sunny, though. Almost hard to believe it could be so cold on such a bright day.
A warm blazer wrapped around her shoulders just as she’d begun considering swallowing her pride and heading back inside. Aleksander’s scent enveloped her. She had always liked her father’s cologne, but Aleksander’s had a slight sharpness to its warmth that suited him so well, she couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing it.
“I’m sorry I got angry,” Alina said bitterly as he took a seat next to her. She wasn’t sorry one bit, but mother would have insisted she apologise instantly and without having to be reminded to do it. She hated not being allowed to express her feelings the way other children her age could without being looked down on.
“Thank you for bringing my mother your favourite flowers, I’m sure she appreciated them from up there with the Saints,” he smiled, pointing to the sky. Alina wasn’t an idiot, she knew there weren’t a bunch of people sitting on the edge of a cloud watching her every move. She didn’t, however, say any of this to Aleksander.
“You remember what my favourite flowers are?”
“Of course, I remember all of your secrets,” he smiled and leaned downward to leave a kiss on the crown of her head. Alina blushed.
“I know you’re sad. I don’t like that you are, and I also don’t want you to leave, but it is the way it works, right?” she wondered.
Aleksander pondered it over, “I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I would be sad if mummy died. I would cry for weeks.”
“Your mum’s a great person,” Aleksander said.
“So was yours, right?” Alina looked up to him, the sun shining into her eyes, but she didn’t shield them with her hand like she would have liked, because she wanted to look at her Sasha.
Aleksander hummed, “Well, no one’s perfect, but she…cared for me and Ulla in her own ways.” He sat silently for a moment longer before a breathy laugh escaped his nose. “You know, one time she hit the neighbour boys with a cane because they were being mean to me. And…oh, and once she gave Ulla an unbelievable amount of shopping money because some girls were calling her names for the way she dressed,” he seemed to remember fondly. “And she made really good ziti.”
Alina smiled as she watched him disappearing into his memories. He looked older when he was sad. “Will going back to Os Alta make you happier?” she wondered.
“I guess it’s worth trying. But if I am still sad, I’ll come right back and live near you again.”
“And you’ll visit?”
He watched her, clearly thinking of a way to not let a child down too harshly. “As much as I can.”