Little Palace was a quiet strict place. A Palace where Grisha grew up and learned to control their power as the Darkling watched over them.

The gardens were busy as always. Although the Sun Summoner was here, training among them, a symbol of hope for Ravka. A girl, Alina Starkov, would tear the Fold down, and unite both sides of the country—tearing down the hatred for the Grisha simultaneously. And even then, Grisha still trained to hone their abilities.

Children still went to all their classes in the Children's school. Fabrikators still practiced in their workshop. Botkin still pushed the Squallers, Tidemakers and Heartrenders on the training grounds.

Aleksander watched it all from the balcony of the Map room. His dark gaze scanned the grounds, judging everyone.

Every Grisha could feel his gaze. Cold and piercing gaze, that made the Grisha sweat and work harder under his watchful eye.

The Dome Room was always filled with conversation—at the tables during meal time, or casual conversation around the samovar on the divans. Maybe because it was that the Darkling never visited the Grisha during meal times, that the atmosphere here was different.

But there were parts of Little Palace that no one ever stepped foot in. Rooms and walkways that even the servants never visited. A secret that even Baghra suspected, but never knew for sure.

Aleksander moved quietly through the halls, navigating the shadows to the room. The room that was tucked away.

He moved quietly knocking on a wooden door, before letting himself inside. A small squeal followed by small thumps of toddler feet ran to Aleksander, not afraid to grab at the black of his kefta and shove it into the toddler mouth.

Aleksander looked down at the familiar eyes of the toddler, identical eyes to his own. He reached down, picking the chewing troublemaker up, raising a brow as the little hands began pulling at his cheeks.