Siege and Storm (Shadow and Bone #2)(49)

I shook my head.

“A show pony?”

“Nope.”

He reached out and took my hand, turning it over and gently unfolding my fingers.

I waited for his reaction.

His mouth tugged up at one corner as he plucked the golden sunburst from my hand. The rough brush of his fingers against my palm sent a shiver up my back.

“For the captain of your personal guard?” he asked.

I cleared my throat nervously. “I … I didn’t want uniforms. I didn’t want anything that looked like the Darkling’s oprichniki.”

For a long moment, we stood in silence as Mal looked down at the sunburst. Then he handed it back to me. My heart plummeted, but I tried to hide my disappointment.

“Put it on me?” he asked.

I let my breath out in a relieved rush. I took the pin between my fingers and pressed it through the folds on the left side of his shirt. It took me a couple of tries to get it hooked. When I finished and made to step back, he took my hand and pressed it over the golden sun, over his heart.

“Is that all?” he said.

We were standing close together now, alone in the warm dark of the garden. It was the first moment we’d had to ourselves in weeks.

“All?” I repeated. My voice came out as little more than a breath.

“I believe I was promised a cape and a fancy hat.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” I said.

“Are you flirting?”

“I’m bartering.”

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll take my first payment now.”

His tone was light, but when his lips met mine, there was nothing playful in his kiss. He tasted of heat and newly ripe pears from the Duke’s garden. I sensed hunger in the hard slant of his mouth, an unfamiliar edge to his need that sent restless sparks burning through me.

I came up on my toes, circling my arms around his neck, feeling the length of my body melt into his. He had a soldier’s strength, and I felt it in the hard bands of his arms, the pressure of his fingers as his fist bunched in the silk at the small of my back and he drew me against him. There was something fierce and almost desperate in the way he held me, as if he could not have me close enough.

My head was spinning. My thoughts had gone slow and liquid, but somewhere I heard footsteps. In the next moment, Tamar came charging up the path.

“We have company,” she said.

Mal broke away from me and unslung his rifle in a single swift movement. “Who is it?”

“There’s a group of people at the gate demanding entry. They want to see the Sun Summoner.”

“Pilgrims?” I asked, trying to get my kiss-addled brain to function properly.

Tamar shook her head. “They claim to be Grisha.”

“Here?”

Mal placed a hand on my arm. “Alina, wait inside, at least until we see what this is about.”

I hesitated. Part of me bridled at being told to run off and hide my head, but I didn’t want to be stupid either. A shout rose from somewhere near the gates.

“No,” I said, pulling from Mal’s grasp. “If they really are Grisha, you may need me.”

Neither Tamar nor Mal looked pleased, but they took up positions on either side of me and we hurried down the gravel path.

A crowd had gathered at the dacha’s iron gates. Tolya was easy to spot, towering above everyone else. Nikolai was in front, surrounded by soldiers with their weapons drawn, as well as armed footmen from the Count’s household. A small group of people were gathered on the other side of the bars, but I couldn’t see more than that. Someone gave the gate an angry rattle, and I heard a clamor of raised voices.

“Get me in there,” I said. Tamar cast Mal a worried glance. I lifted my chin. If they were going to be my guards, they would have to follow my orders. “Now. I need to see what’s happening before things get out of hand.”

Tamar signaled to Tolya, and the giant stepped in front of us, easily shouldering his way through the crowd to the gates. I’d always been small. Packed between Mal and the twins, with antsy soldiers jostling us from every side, it suddenly felt very hard to breathe. I pushed down my panic, peering past bodies and backs to where I could see Nikolai arguing with someone at the gate.

“If we wanted to talk to the King’s lackey, we’d be at the doors to the Grand Palace,” said an impatient voice. “We came for the Sun Summoner.”

“Show some respect, bloodletter,” barked a soldier I didn’t recognize. “You’re addressing a Prince of Ravka and an officer of the First Army.”

This was not going well. I edged closer to the front of the crowd but halted when I saw the Corporalnik standing beyond the iron bars. “Fedyor?”

His long face broke into a grin, and he bowed deeply. “Alina Starkov,” he said. “I could only hope the rumors were true.”

I studied Fedyor warily. He was surrounded by a group of Grisha in dust-covered kefta, mostly Corporalki red, some in Etherealki blue, and a smattering of Materialki purple.

“You know him?” Nikolai asked.

“Yes,” I said. “He saved my life.” Fedyor had once put himself between me and a swarm of Fjerdan assassins.

He bowed again. “It was my great honor.”

Nikolai didn’t look impressed. “Can he be trusted?”