Page 15 of Shadow and Bone (The Grisha 1)
“Not right now, no. ”
I was so furious I wanted to smack him on the back of his head. And if I hadn’t seen him cut a man in half, I might have done just that. I settled for glaring at the space between his shoulder blades as I followed him up the hill.
Inside the farm’s broken-down barn, the Darkling’s men had cleared a space on the earthen floor and built a fire. One of them had caught and killed a grouse and was roasting it over the flames. It made a poor meal shared among all of us, but the Darkling did not want to send his men ranging into the woods for game.
I took a place by the fire and ate my small portion in silence. When I’d finished, I hesitated for only a moment before wiping my fingers on my already filthy kefta. It was probably the nicest thing I’d ever worn or would wear, and something about seeing the fabric stained and torn made me feel particularly low.
In the light from the fire, I watched the oprichniki sitting side by side with the Grisha. Some of them had already drifted away from the fire to bed down for the night. Others had been posted to the first watch. The rest sat talking as the flames ebbed, passing a flask back and forth. The Darkling sat with them. I’d noticed that he had taken no more than his share of the grouse. And now he sat beside his soldiers on the cold ground, a man second in power only to the King.
He must have felt my gaze, because he turned to look at me, his granite eyes glimmering in the firelight. I flushed. To my dismay, he rose and came to sit beside me, offering me the flask. I hesitated and then took a sip, grimacing at the taste. I’d never liked kvas, but the teachers at Keramzin had drunk it like water. Mal and I had stolen a bottle once. The beating we’d taken when we were caught had been nothing compared to how miserably sick we’d
been.
Still, it burned going down, and the warmth was welcome. I took another sip and handed the flask back to him. “Thank you,” I said with a little cough.
He drank, staring into the fire, and then said, “All right. Ask me. ”
I blinked at him, taken aback. I wasn’t sure where to begin. My tired mind had been brimming with questions, whirring in a state between panic and exhaustion and disbelief since we’d left Kribirsk. I wasn’t sure that I had the energy to form a thought, and when I opened my mouth, the question that came out surprised me.
“How old are you?”
He glanced at me, bemused.
“I don’t know exactly. ”
“How can you not know?”
The Darkling shrugged. “How old are you exactly?”
I flashed him a sour look. I didn’t know the date of my birth. All the orphans at Keramzin were given the Duke’s birthday in honor of our benefactor. “Well, then, roughly how old are you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I’ve heard stories about you since I was a child, but you don’t look much older than I am,” I said honestly.
“What kind of stories?”
“The usual kind,” I said with some annoyance. “If you don’t want to answer me, just say so. ”
“I don’t want to answer you. ”
“Oh. ”
Then he sighed and said, “One hundred and twenty. Give or take. ”
“What?” I squeaked. The soldiers sitting across from me glanced over. “That’s impossible,” I said more quietly.
He looked into the flames. “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. Most Grisha live long lives. ”
“But not one hundred and twenty years. ”
“No,” he admitted. “The length of a Grisha’s life is proportional to his or her power. The greater the power, the longer the life. And when that power is amplified …” He trailed off with a shrug.
“And you’re a living amplifier. Like Ivan’s bear. ”
The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Like Ivan’s bear. ”
An unpleasant thought occurred to me. “But that means—”
“That my bones or a few of my teeth would make another Grisha very powerful. ”
“Well, that’s completely creepy. Doesn’t that worry you a little bit?”
“No,” he said simply. “Now you answer my question. What kind of stories were you told about me?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Well … our teachers told us that you strengthened the Second Army by gathering Grisha from outside of Ravka. ”
“I didn’t have to gather them. They came to me. Other countries don’t treat their Grisha so well as Ravka,” he said grimly. “The Fjerdans burn us as witches, and the Kerch sell us as slaves. The Shu Han carve us up seeking the source of our power. What else?”
“They said you were the strongest Darkling in generations. ”
