Shadow and Bone (Shadow and Bone, #1)

by Leigh Bardugo

The servants called them malenchki, little ghosts, because they were the smallest and the youngest, and because they haunted the Duke’s house like giggling phantoms, darting in and out of rooms, hiding in cupboards to eavesdrop, sneaking into the kitchen to steal the last of the summer peaches.

He had seen a woman, barefoot and unflinching in her doorway, face down a row of bayonets. He knew the look of a man defending his home with nothing but a rock in his hand.

“You’re interfering with my plan.” “Oh really?” “Yes. Faint, get trampled, grievous injuries all around.” “That sounds like a brilliant plan.”

“Wish me luck!” he called over his shoulder. “Good luck,” I said automatically and then wanted to kick myself. Good luck? Have a lovely time, Mal. Hope you find a pretty Grisha, fall deeply in love, and make lots of gorgeous, disgustingly talented babies together.

I was no one, a refugee from an unnamed village, a scrawny, clumsy girl hurtling alone through the gathering dark. But when the Darkling had closed his fingers around my wrist, I’d felt different, like something more.

How would I have said goodbye to Mal anyway? Thanks for being my best friend and making my life bearable. Oh, and sorry I fell in love with you for a while there. Make sure to write!

“When a fire burns, it uses up the wood. It devours it, leaving only ash. Grisha power doesn’t work that way.” “How does it work?” “Using our power makes us stronger. It feeds us instead of consuming us.

Don’t be a fool, I chastised myself. He’s the Darkling. He’s the second most powerful man in Ravka. He’s one hundred and twenty years old! You didn’t hurt his feelings.

Like all Grisha, the Etherealki indicated their designation within their order by colour of embroidery: pale blue for Tidemakers, red for Inferni, and silver for Squallers. My cuffs were embroidered in gold.

Everything in the world could be broken down into the same small parts. What looked like magic was really the Grisha manipulating matter at its most fundamental levels.

I thought of the last letter I’d sent. Dear Mal, I’d written. I haven’t heard from you, so I assume you’ve met and married a volcra and that you’re living comfortably on the Shadow Fold, where you have neither light nor paper with which to write. Or, possibly, your new bride ate both your hands.

I opened my hands and the light bloomed right through me, filling the room, illuminating the stone walls, the old tile oven, and every angle of Baghra’s strange face. It surrounded me, blazing with heat, more powerful and more pure than ever before because it was all mine. I wanted to laugh, to sing, to shout. At last, there was something that belonged wholly and completely to me.

“Maybe I should lie down on a table in the workroom and wait to see if he welds something to me.” “I think that’s the way most great love stories begin.”

If I can’t help you destroy the Fold, then what exactly am I good for? Midnight picnics? Keeping your feet warm in the winter?” His mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Midnight picnics?”

And then he kissed me. It happened so suddenly that I barely had time to react. One moment, I was staring into his slate-coloured eyes, and the next, his lips were pressed to mine. I felt that familiar sense of surety melt through me as my body sang with sudden heat and my heart jumped into a skittery dance. Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back. He looked as surprised as I felt.

I saw Genya gliding through the crowd towards me. Counts and dukes and wealthy merchants turned to stare at her as she passed, but she ignored them all. Don’t waste your time, I wanted to tell them. Her heart belongs to a gangly Fabrikator who doesn’t like parties.

“The Black Heretic lived hundreds of years ago.” “He has served countless kings, faked countless deaths, bided his time, waiting for you. Once he takes control of the Fold, no one will be able to stand against him.”

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” “Grisha training,” I whispered dramatically. “Ancient secrets of the groin kick.” “Whatever works.” I laughed. “That’s what Botkin always says. ‘Not showy, just to make pain,’” I said, imitating the mercenary’s heavy accent. “Smart guy.”

“Did you miss me, Alina? Did you miss me when you were gone?” “Every day,” I said honestly. “I missed you every hour. And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. I’d catch myself walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. And then I’d realise that you weren’t there any more, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me. I’ve risked my life for you. I’ve walked half the length of Ravka for you, and I’d do it again and again and again just to be with you, just to starve with you and freeze with you and hear you complain about hard cheese every day. So don’t tell me we don’t belong together,” he said fiercely. He was very close now, and my heart was suddenly hammering in my chest. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now.”

Despite all he’d done and all he intended, I did almost believe him. Almost. I gave a single shake of my head. He slumped back in his chair. “Fine,” he said with a weary shrug. “Make me your villain.”

“We found our way back to each other, Alina. That’s all that matters.”

The first time I’d entered the Fold, I’d feared the darkness and my own death. Now, darkness was nothing to me, and I knew that soon death would seem like a gift.

They are orphans again, with no true home but each other and whatever life they can make together on the other side of the sea.