Publisher's Weekly Review
In a strong debut, Bardugo draws inspiration from Russian and Slavic myth and culture to kick off her Grisha trilogy. In the nation of Ravka, Alina Starkov is a junior cartographer's assistant in the army, while her best friend Mal is an expert tracker. When a perilous mission into the magically created Shadow Fold goes wrong, Mal is gravely wounded and Alina manifests the rare ability to summon light. Immediately recruited into the order of the magic-using Grisha, Alina is taken under the wing of its intimidating and powerful leader, the Darkling, and heralded as the potential destroyer of the Shadow Fold. As she navigates Grisha politics and uncovers well-hidden secrets, she realizes that the fate of the nation rests on her shoulders and she may be in grave danger. Filled with lush descriptions, intriguing magic, and plenty of twists, this memorable adventure offers action and intrigue mixed with an undercurrent of romance and danger. Alina's angst and passivity are a bit of a letdown, but Bardugo's storytelling and world-building more than compensate. Ages 12-up. Agent: Joanna Stampfel-Volpe, Nancy Coffey Literary Agency. (June) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Horn Book Review
Crossing the Shadow Fold with their army unit, Alina and her handsome fellow orphan (and best friend) Mal are attacked by the Volcra, hideous creatures that live in the dark of that magic-blasted land. The threat of Mal's imminent death brings forth a rare and hidden magical gift in Alina: she is a Sun Summoner, able to manipulate light and thus save Mal. Her talent draws the attention of the Darkling, the king's most powerful mage, who sweeps her off to his palace to develop her abilities further. Wrapped in luxury and promised a brilliant future, Alina is drawn in by the Darkling's seductive magnetism, but what about her bond with Mal? Out on the frontier scouting with his army unit, he won't even answer her letters -- is it time for her to move on? A rich fantasy landscape, an inspired magical structure, and a gratifying emotional hook keep the pages whirring by until a final twist upends assumptions and lands us smack in the middle of a harrowing climax. And Bardugo's readers are in luck: it appears the author is planning a sequel. anita l. burkam (c) Copyright 2012. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Booklist Review
Debut author Bardugo has conjured up a treat with her first book in the Grisha Trilogy. In the opening passages, a tight bond is formed by two small orphans: handsome, competent Mal and tiny Alina, who never seems to do anything right. Jumping forward in time, the story follows the two friends after they have joined the King's First Army Mal as a soldier-tracker and Alina as a cartographer. Their land of Ravka is surrounded by enemies and divided by the Shadow Fold, a mysterious, magical darkness that seethes with flesh-eating monsters. After Alina discovers that she possesses a magical power, she is taken to the royal court to be trained as a member of the Grisha, magicians who practice the Small Science. Resembling Czarist Russia, the court swirls with deceit and extravagance, and although Alina falls under the spell of the handsome Darkling, she misses Mal grievously. Bardugo weaves a captivating spell with lushly descriptive writing, engaging characters, and an exotic, vivid world. Readers will wait impatiently for the next installment. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: A six-figure marketing campaign is already ensuring that this series debut receives blockbuster attention.--Rutan, Lynn Copyright 2010 Booklist
New York Review of Books Review
SOME fantasy novels deal out the tropes of the genre like cards from a dog-eared deck. Others affirm the elemental power of these tropes, reminding us not only why we read fantasy, but also why we read at all. There may be nothing new under the sun, but a good story makes you just not care. Like the expert strike of a reflex hammer, it hits precisely the right spot. Leigh Bardugo's first novel, "Shadow and Bone," does so straight from its opening lines, pulling the reader into a mesmerizing exploration of one of the most potent fantasy novel motifs: the discovery of hidden strength within oneself. A war orphan, Alina Starkov is raised on charity on the estate of a minor noble in Ravka (picture a fantasy Russia of samovars and horse-drawn sleighs), along with her best friend and fellow orphan, Mal. Tested as children for the rare magical ability that would destine them for the Grisha - elite magician-soldiers of the kingdom's "Second Army" - Alina and Mal are found wanting and are conscripted instead into the common army. Alina is a perfect specimen of the "nothingspecialness" essential to the book's central theme. She's a skinny, nervous girl, brittle, unremarkable. And she's all but friendless except for Mal, who has grown up to be a head-turner and inevitably drifts away from his former companion. She's also an affecting narrator; Bardugo's clean writing wins the reader easily to Alina's side as her regiment marches toward the Shadow Fold, the kingdom's curse and calamity: "a swath of nearly impenetrable darkness that grew with every passing year and crawled with horrors." This Shadow Fold is the legacy of Grisha magic gone bad. A vast, lightless void, it splits Ravka in two, forcing perilous crossings through the darkness in silent skiffs, soldiers' fingers at their triggers lest the volera - savage winged monsters - hear or smell them. Ravkan life is defined by darkness: that of the Fold, and that of the Darkling, the most powerful of the Grisha, a figure as feared as he is revered. So when the regiment is attacked by volcra in the Fold, what power could be more fitting to burst forth from the mousy Alina, facing death in the dark, than the ability to summon light? It's an unheard-of ability. Grisha manipulate wind, fire, tides, steel, flesh and even darkness. But not light - until now. Bardugo's setup is shiver-inducing, of the delicious variety. This is what fantasy is for: letting us slip into the skin of characters grappling with great power and the destinies that come with it And if the aim of the author's reflex hammer falters after the initial setup, and if the tatty corners of well-thumbed conventions begin to tell, "Shadow and Bone" has other pleasures to buoy it through. Its system of magic, for one. The Grisha are an intriguing creation: a breed of magician-scientistsoldiers wielding tangible powers in the service of the realm. They are a caste apart, with members who specialize in bursting the human heart, and wonderfully named suborders like the Etherealki. One secondary character on whom the author - a Hollywood makeup artist in her other life - lavishes enjoyable attention is a "flesh tailor," whose skill in enhancing beauty has made her the pet of a vain queen. Then there's the world Bardugo creates. With its uncannily beautiful robed magicians, vast wild landscapes and fabled creatures, Ravka evokes the Russia of fairy tales. The Little Palace of the Grisha is "like something carved from an enchanted forest, a cluster of dark wood walls and golden domes"; a place "covered in intricate carvings of birds and flowers, twisting vines and magical beasts." Even orphan life has a tint of the fable: lying for hours in the meadow and stealing peaches from the kitchen; and the army's march comes across as a pleasant stroll. But there is a darker inspiration at work here as well, and one of Bardugo's clever decisions is to name the Darkling's personal guard after Ivan the Terrible's notorious black-clad "oprichniki," the precursors of the K.G.B. So what about this Darkling? He is an enigmatic figure: brooding, magnetic and, of course, handsome. "He had a sharp, beautiful face, a shock of thick black hair and clear gray eyes that shimmered like quartz." And though he seems young, he has already lived a very long life. "He's not natural," thinks Alina, but she is drawn to him regardless, and he to her, as she grows from a scrawny nobody at odds with her new world into a passionate young woman of great power. "I've been waiting for you a long time, Alina," the Darkling tells her. "You said I are going to change the world." Is she a match for this most powerful of men? Or will childhood love prove the stronger lure? Writers turn to the plot conventions of high fantasy for a reason. They satisfy fundamental human desires - not merely to belong but to surpass, to be special, to have power, to be loved - and they do so at a louder volume than does ordinary life. They give us what we crave. The test lies in whether, as we are reading, we feel the dull, inward sinking of "This again?" or the exhilarating, grasped-by-the-hair lift and thrill of vicarious experience. "Shadow and Bone" imparts some of both, but in the richness of its Russian flavor, there is much to relish. Laini Taylor's most recent novels are "Lips Touch," a National Book Award finalist, and "Daughter of Smoke and Bone." Her new novel, "Days of Blood and Starlight," will be out this fall.
School Library Journal Review
Gr 7 Up-Orphaned from the Border Wars, Alina was raised by strangers with her only friend, Mal. Drafted into the army of war-torn Rafka, the pair joins their regiment on a dangerous mission into the Fold, a place where darkness reigns and nobody survives the attacks of its native, nightmarish creatures. When the two friends are attacked, Alina inadvertently summons her dormant magical powers to save her regiment. She is ripped from everything she knows and sent to be trained as a Grisha in the court of the Darkling, the most powerful magic wielder. Cut off from contact with Mal, Alina has a hard time learning to use her power. When she discovers the Darkling's plan to enslave her in order to destroy all who oppose him, she must figure out a way to stop him and find her way back to Mal. Will she learn to wield her power and save Rafka before it's too late? Narrator Amanda Dolan masterfully brings Alina's world of magic and monsters to life. Bardugo's well-developed characters in this debut novel (Holt, 2012) are enhanced by the narrator's unique voices and intonations. The transitions between action and suspense are incredible, and listeners will be totally engrossed. The twists throughout this unique plot are expertly handled by both author and narrator and keep listeners guessing. For fans of dark fantasy, adventure, suspense, and magic.-Kira Moody, Whitmore Public Library, Salt Lake City, UT (c) Copyright 2013. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
In a Russian-inflected fantasy world, an orphan comes into immense power and, with it, danger. When the Grisha came to test inseparable friends Alina and Malyen, neither showed any aptitude for the Small Science. Years later, they are in the army, Alina in the cartographer corps and Mal a tracker. They are escorting the Darkling, the most powerful Grisha in the land, across the terrifying Shadow Fold that divides Ravka's heart from its coast. An attack by the terrifying volcra brings forth a power Alina never knew she had: She is a Sun Summoner. The charismatic, quartz-eyed Darkling takes her to the palace to learn the art of the Etherealki, and Mal is left behind. Bardugo allows the details of Grisha magic to unfold with limited exposition, using Alina's ignorance for readers' benefit. While Alina's training borrows familiar tropes (outlander combat teacher, wizened-crone magic instructor, friends and enemies among her peers), readers will nevertheless cheer her progress. But the worldbuilding is continually undercut by clunky colloquialisms; such phrases as "Well, that's completely creepy" and "It's okay" yank readers out of this carefully constructed, mostly preindustrial world. Readers may also be troubled by the sexualization of power found in its pages. The plotting is powerful enough to carry most readers past flaws and into the next book in the series. (classification of Grisha types, map [not seen]) (Fantasy. 13 up)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
Shadow and Bone CHAPTER I S TANDING ON THE EDGE of a crowded road, I looked down onto the rolling fields and abandoned of farms of the Tula Valley and got my first glimpse of the Shadow Fold. My regiment was two weeks' march from the military encampment at Poliznaya and the autumn sun was warm overhead, but I shivered in my coat as I eyed the haze that lay like a dirty smudge on the horizon. A heavy shoulder slammed into me from behind. I stumbled and nearly pitched face-first into the muddy road. "Hey!" shouted the soldier. "Watch yourself !" "Why don't you watch your fat feet?" I snapped, and took some satisfaction from the surprise that came over his broad face. People, particularly big men carrying big rifles, don't expect lip from a scrawny thing like me. They always look a bit dazed when they get it. The soldier got over the novelty quickly and gave me a dirty look as he adjusted the pack on his back, then disappeared into the caravan of horses, men, carts, and wagons streaming over the crest of the hill and into the valley below. I quickened my steps, trying to peer over the crowd. I'd lost sight of the yellow flag of the surveyors' cart hours ago, and I knew I was far behind. As I walked, I took in the green and gold smells of the autumn wood, the soft breeze at my back. We were on the Vy, the wide road that had once led all the way from Os Alta to the wealthy port cities on Ravka's western coast. But that was before the Shadow Fold. Somewhere in the crowd, someone was singing. Singing? What idiot is singing on his way into the Fold? I glanced again at that smudge on the horizon and had to suppress a shudder. I'd seen the Shadow Fold on many maps, a black slash that had severed Ravka from its only coastline and left it landlocked. Sometimes it was shown as a stain, sometimes as a bleak and shapeless cloud. And then there were the maps that just showed the Shadow Fold as a long, narrow lake and labeled it by its other name, "the Unsea," a name intended to put soldiers and merchants at their ease and encourage crossings. I snorted. That might fool some fat merchant, but it was little comfort to me. I tore my attention from the sinister haze hovering in the distance and looked down onto the ruined farms of the Tula. The valley had once been home to some of Ravka's richest estates. One day it was a place where farmers tended crops and sheep grazed in green fields. The next, a dark slash had appeared on the landscape, a swath of nearly impenetrable darkness that grew with every passing year and crawled with horrors. Where the farmers had gone, their herds, their crops, their homes and families, no one knew. Stop it , I told myself firmly. You're only making things worse. People have been crossing the Fold for years ... usually with massive casualties, but all the same. I took a deep breath to steady myself. "No fainting in the middle of the road," said a voice close to my ear as a heavy arm landed across my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. I looked up to see Mal's familiar face, a smile in his bright blue eyes as he fell into step beside me. "C'mon," he said. "One foot in front of the other. You know how it's done." "You're interfering with my plan." "Oh really?" "Yes. Faint, get trampled, grievous injuries all around." "That sounds like a brilliant plan." "Ah, but if I'm horribly maimed, I won't be able to cross the Fold." Mal nodded slowly. "I see. I can shove you under a cart if that would help." "I'll think about it," I grumbled, but I felt my mood lifting all the same. Despite my best efforts, Mal still had that effect on me. And I wasn't the only one. A pretty blond girl strolled by and waved, throwing Mal a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. "Hey, Ruby," he called. "See you later?" Ruby giggled and scampered off into the crowd. Mal grinned broadly until he caught my eye roll. "What? I thought you liked Ruby." "As it happens, we don't have much to talk about," I said drily. I actually had liked Ruby--at first. When Mal and I left the orphanage at Keramzin to train for our military service in Poliznaya, I'd been nervous about meeting new people. But lots of girls had been excited to befriend me, and Ruby had been among the most eager. Those friendships lasted as long as it took me to figure out that their only interest in me lay in my proximity to Mal. Now I watched him stretch his arms expansively and turn his face up to the autumn sky, looking perfectly content. There was even, I noted with some disgust, a little bounce in his step. "What is wrong with you?" I whispered furiously. "Nothing," he said, surprised. "I feel great." "But how can you be so ... so jaunty?" "Jaunty? I've never been jaunty. I hope never to be jaunty." "Well, then what's all this?" I asked, waving a hand at him. "You look like you're on your way to a really good dinner instead of possible death and dismemberment." Mal laughed. "You worry too much. The King's sent a whole group of Grisha pyros to cover the skiffs, and even a few of those creepy Heartrenders. We have our rifles," he said, patting the one on his back. "We'll be fine." "A rifle won't make much difference if there's a bad attack." Mal gave me a bemused glance. "What's with you lately? You're even grumpier than usual. And you look terrible." "Thanks," I groused. "I haven't been sleeping well." "What else is new?" He was right, of course. I'd never slept well. But it had been even worse over the last few days. Saints knew I had plenty of good reasons to dread going into the Fold, reasons shared by every member of our regiment who had been unlucky enough to be chosen for the crossing. But there was something else, a deeper feeling of unease that I couldn't quite name. I glanced at Mal. There had been a time when I could have told him anything. "I just ... have this feeling." "Stop worrying so much. Maybe they'll put Mikhael on the skiff. The volcra will take one look at that big juicy belly of his and leave us alone." Unbidden, a memory came to me: Mal and I, sitting side by side in a chair in the Duke's library, flipping through the pages of a large leather-bound book. We'd happened on an illustration of a volcra: long, filthy claws; leathery wings; and rows of razor-sharp teeth for feasting on human flesh. They were blind from generations spent living and hunting in the Fold, but legend had it they could smell human blood from miles away. I'd pointed to the page and asked, "What is it holding?" I could still hear Mal's whisper in my ear. "I think--I think it's a foot." We'd slammed the book shut and run squealing out into the safety of the sunlight ... . Without realizing it, I'd stopped walking, frozen in place, unable to shake the memory from my mind. When Mal realized I wasn't with him, he gave a great beleaguered sigh and marched back to me. He rested his hands on my shoulders and gave me a little shake. "I was kidding. No one's going to eat Mikhael." "I know," I said, staring down at my boots. "You're hilarious." "Alina, come on. We'll be fine." "You can't know that." "Look at me." I willed myself to raise my eyes to his. "I know you're scared. I am, too. But we're going to do this, and we're going to be fine. We always are. Okay?" He smiled, and my heart gave a very loud thud in my chest. I rubbed my thumb over the scar that ran across the palm of my right hand and took a shaky breath. "Okay," I said grudgingly, and I actually felt myself smiling back. "Madam's spirits have been restored!" Mal shouted. "The sun can once more shine!" "Oh will you shut up?" I turned to give him a punch, but before I could, he'd grabbed hold of me and lifted me off my feet. A clatter of hooves and shouts split the air. Mal yanked me to the side of the road just as a huge black coach roared past, scattering people before it as they ran to avoid the pounding hooves of four black horses. Beside the whip-wielding driver perched two soldiers in charcoal coats. The Darkling. There was no mistaking his black coach or the uniform of his personal guard. Another coach, this one lacquered red, rumbled past us at a more leisurely pace. I looked up at Mal, my heart racing from the close call. "Thanks," I whispered. Mal suddenly seemed to realize that he had his arms around me. He let go and hastily stepped back. I brushed the dust from my coat, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush on my cheeks. A third coach rolled by, lacquered in blue, and a girl leaned out the window. She had curling black hair and wore a hat of silver fox. She scanned the watching crowd and, predictably, her eyes lingered on Mal. You were just mooning over him , I chided myself. Why shouldn't some gorgeous Grisha do the same? Her lips curled into a small smile as she held Mal's gaze, watching him over her shoulder until the coach was out of sight. Mal goggled dumbly after her, his mouth slightly open. "Close your mouth before something flies in," I snapped. Mal blinked, still looking dazed. "Did you see that?" a voice bellowed. I turned to see Mikhael loping toward us, wearing an almost comical expression of awe. Mikhael was a huge redhead with a wide face and an even wider neck. Behind him, Dubrov, reedy and dark, hurried to catch up. They were both trackers in Mal's unit and never far from his side. "Of course I saw it," Mal said, his dopey expression evaporating into a cocky grin. I rolled my eyes. "She looked right at you!" shouted Mikhael, clapping Mal on the back. Mal gave a casual shrug, but his smile widened. "So she did," he said smugly. Dubrov shifted nervously. "They say Grisha girls can put spells on you." I snorted. Mikhael looked at me as if he hadn't even known I was there. "Hey, Sticks," he said, and gave me a little jab on the arm. I scowled at the nickname, but he had already turned back to Mal. "You know she'll be staying at camp," he said with a leer. "I hear the Grisha tent's as big as a cathedral," added Dubrov. "Lots of nice shadowy nooks," said Mikhael, and actually waggled his brows. Mal whooped. Without sparing me another glance, the three of them strode off, shouting and shoving one another. "Great seeing you guys," I muttered under my breath. I readjusted the strap of the satchel slung across my shoulders and started back down the road, joining the last few stragglers down the hill and into Kribirsk. I didn't bother to hurry. I'd probably get yelled at when I finally made it to the Documents Tent, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I rubbed my arm where Mikhael had punched me. Sticks . I hated that name. You didn't call me Sticks when you were drunk on kvas and trying to paw me at the spring bonfire, you miserable oaf , I thought spitefully. Kribirsk wasn't much to look at. According to the Senior Cartographer, it had been a sleepy market town in the days before the Shadow Fold, little more than a dusty main square and an inn for weary travelers on the Vy. But now it had become a kind of ramshackle port city, growing up around a permanent military encampment and the drydocks where the sandskiffs waited to take passengers through the darkness to West Ravka. I passed taverns and pubs and what I was pretty sure were brothels meant to cater to the troops of the King's Army. There were shops selling rifles and crossbows, lamps and torches, all necessary equipment for a trek across the Fold. The little church with its whitewashed walls and gleaming onion domes was in surprisingly good repair. Or maybe not so surprising , I considered. Anyone contemplating a trip across the Shadow Fold would be smart to stop and pray. I found my way to where the surveyors were billeted, deposited my pack on a cot, and hurried over to the Documents Tent. To my relief, the Senior Cartographer was nowhere in sight, and I was able to slip inside unseen. Entering the white canvas tent, I felt myself relax for the first time since I'd caught sight of the Fold. The Documents Tent was essentially the same in every camp I'd seen, full of bright light and rows of drafting tables where artists and surveyors bent to their work. After the noise and jostle of the journey, there was something soothing about the crackle of paper, the smell of ink, and the soft scratching of nibs and brushes. I pulled my sketchbook from my coat pocket and slid onto a workbench beside Alexei, who turned to me and whispered irritably, "Where have you been?" "Nearly getting trampled by the Darkling's coach," I replied, grabbing a clean piece of paper and flipping through my sketches to try to find a suitable one to copy. Alexei and I were both junior cartographers' assistants and, as part of our training, we had to submit two finished sketches or renderings at the end of every day. Alexei drew in a sharp breath. "Really? Did you actually see him?" " Actually , I was too busy trying not to die." "There are worse ways to go." He caught sight of the sketch of a rocky valley I was about to start copying. "Ugh. Not that one." He flipped through my sketchbook to an elevation of a mountain ridge and tapped it with his finger. "There." I barely had time to put pen to paper before the Senior Cartographer entered the tent and came swooping down the aisle, observing our work as he passed. "I hope that's the second sketch you're starting, Alina Starkov." "Yes," I lied. "Yes, it is." As soon as the Cartographer had passed on, Alexei whispered, "Tell me about the coach." "I have to finish my sketches." "Here," he said in exasperation, sliding one of his sketches over to me. "He'll know it's your work." "It's not that good. You should be able to pass it off as yours." "Now there's the Alexei I know and tolerate," I grumbled, but I didn't give back the sketch. Alexei was one of the most talented assistants and he knew it. Alexei extracted every last detail from me about the three Grisha coaches. I was grateful for the sketch, so I did my best to satisfy his curiosity as I finished up my elevation of the mountain ridge and worked in my thumb measurements of some of the highest peaks. By the time we were finished, dusk was falling. We handed in our work and walked to the mess tent, where we stood in line for muddy stew ladled out by a sweaty cook and found seats with some of the other surveyors. I passed the meal in silence, listening to Alexei and the others exchange camp gossip and jittery talk about tomorrow's crossing. Alexei insisted that I retell the story of the Grisha coaches, and it was met by the usual mix of fascination and fear that greeted any mention of the Darkling. "He's not natural," said Eva, another assistant; she had pretty green eyes that did little to distract from her piglike nose. "None of them are." Alexei sniffed. "Please spare us your superstition, Eva." "It was a Darkling who made the Shadow Fold to begin with." "That was hundreds of years ago!" protested Alexei. "And that Darkling was completely mad." "This one is just as bad." "Peasant," Alexei said, and dismissed her with a wave. Eva gave him an affronted look and deliberately turned away from him to talk to her friends. I stayed quiet. I was more a peasant than Eva, despite her superstitions. It was only by the Duke's charity that I could read and write, but by unspoken agreement, Mal and I avoided mentioning Keramzin. As if on cue, a raucous burst of laughter pulled me from my thoughts. I looked over my shoulder. Mal was holding court at a rowdy table of trackers. Alexei followed my glance. "How did you two become friends anyway?" "We grew up together." "You don't seem to have much in common." I shrugged. "I guess it's easy to have a lot in common when you're kids." Like loneliness, and memories of parents we were meant to forget, and the pleasure of escaping chores to play tag in our meadow. Alexei looked so skeptical that I had to laugh. "He wasn't always the Amazing Mal, expert tracker and seducer of Grisha girls." Alexei's jaw dropped. "He seduced a Grisha girl?" "No, but I'm sure he will," I muttered. "So what was he like?" "He was short and pudgy and afraid of baths," I said with some satisfaction. Alexei glanced at Mal. "I guess things change." I rubbed my thumb over the scar in my palm. "I guess they do." We cleared our plates and drifted out of the mess tent into the cool night. On the way back to the barracks, we took a detour so that we could walk by the Grisha camp. The Grisha pavilion really was the size of a cathedral, covered in black silk, its blue, red, and purple pennants flying high above. Hidden somewhere behind it were the Darkling's tents, guarded by Corporalki Heartrenders and the Darkling's personal guard. When Alexei had looked his fill, we wended our way back to our quarters. Alexei got quiet and started cracking his knuckles, and I knew we were both thinking about tomorrow's crossing. Judging by the gloomy mood in the barracks, we weren't alone. Some people were already on their cots, sleeping--or trying to--while others huddled by lamplight, talking in low tones. A few sat clutching their icons, praying to their Saints. I unfurled my bedroll on a narrow cot, removed my boots, and hung up my coat. Then I wriggled down into the fur-lined blankets and stared up at the roof, waiting for sleep. I stayed that way for a long time, until the lamplights had all been extinguished and the sounds of conversation gave way to soft snores and the rustle of bodies. Tomorrow, if everything went as planned, we would pass safely through to West Ravka, and I would get my first glimpse of the True Sea. There, Mal and the other trackers would hunt for red wolves and sea foxes and other coveted creatures that could only be found in the west. I would stay with the cartographers in Os Kervo to finish my training and help draft whatever information we managed to glean in the Fold. And then, of course, I'd have to cross the Fold again in order to return home. But it was hard to think that far ahead. I was still wide awake when I heard it. Tap tap. Pause. Tap. Then again: Tap tap . Pause. Tap. "What's going on?" mumbled Alexei drowsily from the cot nearest mine. "Nothing," I whispered, already slipping out of my bedroll and shoving my feet into my boots. I grabbed my coat and crept out of the barracks as quietly as I could. As I opened the door I heard a giggle, and a female voice called from somewhere in the dark room, "If it's that tracker, tell him to come inside and keep me warm." "If he wants to catch tsifil , I'm sure you'll be his first stop," I said sweetly, and slipped out into the night. The cold air stung my cheeks and I buried my chin in my collar, wishing I'd taken the time to grab my scarf and gloves. Mal was sitting on the rickety steps, his back to me. Beyond him, I could see Mikhael and Dubrov passing a bottle back and forth beneath the glowing lights of the footpath. I scowled. "Please tell me you didn't just wake me up to inform me that you're going to the Grisha tent. What do you want, advice?" "You weren't sleeping. You were lying awake worrying." "Wrong. I was planning how to sneak into the Grisha pavilion and snag myself a cute Corporalnik." Mal laughed. I hesitated by the door. This was the hardest part of being around him--other than the way he made my heart do clumsy acrobatics. I hated hiding how much the stupid things he did hurt me, but I hated the idea of him finding out even more. I thought about just turning around and going back inside. Instead, I swallowed my jealousy and sat down beside him. "I hope you brought me something nice," I said. "Alina's Secrets of Seduction do not come cheap." He grinned. "Can you put it on my tab?" "I suppose. But only because I know you're good for it." I peered into the dark and watched Dubrov take a swig from the bottle and then lurch forward. Mikhael put his arm out to steady him, and the sounds of their laughter floated back to us on the night air. Mal shook his head and sighed. "He always tries to keep up with Mikhael. He'll probably end up puking on my boots." "Serves you right," I said. "So what are you doing here?" When we'd first started our military service a year ago, Mal had visited me almost every night. But he hadn't come by in months. He shrugged. "I don't know. You looked so miserable at dinner." I was surprised he'd noticed. "Just thinking about the crossing," I said carefully. It wasn't exactly a lie. I was terrified of entering the Fold, and Mal definitely didn't need to know that Alexei and I had been talking about him. "But I'm touched by your concern." "Hey," he said with a grin, "I worry." "If you're lucky, a volcra will have me for breakfast tomorrow and then you won't have to fret anymore." "You know I'd be lost without you." "You've never been lost in your life," I scoffed. I was the mapmaker, but Mal could find true north blindfolded and standing on his head. He bumped his shoulder against mine. "You know what I mean." "Sure," I said. But I didn't. Not really. We sat in silence, watching our breath make plumes in the cold air. Mal studied the toes of his boots and said, "I guess I'm nervous, too." I nudged him with my elbow and said with confidence I didn't feel, "If we can take on Ana Kuya, we can handle a few volcra." "If I remember right, the last time we crossed Ana Kuya, you got your ears boxed and we both ended up mucking out the stables." I winced. "I'm trying to be reassuring. You could at least pretend I'm succeeding." "You know the funny thing?" he asked. "I actually miss her sometimes." I did my best to hide my astonishment. We'd spent more than ten years of our lives in Keramzin, but usually I got the impression that Mal wanted to forget everything about the place, maybe even me. There he'd been another lost refugee, another orphan made to feel grateful for every mouthful of food, every used pair of boots. In the army, he'd carved out a real place for himself where no one needed to know that he'd once been an unwanted little boy. "Me too," I admitted. "We could write to her." "Maybe," Mal said. Suddenly, he reached out and took hold of my hand. I tried to ignore the little jolt that went through me. "This time tomorrow, we'll be sitting in the harbor at Os Kervo, looking out at the ocean and drinking kvas. " I glanced at Dubrov weaving back and forth and smiled. "Is Dubrov buying?" "Just you and me," Mal said. "Really?" "It's always just you and me, Alina." For a moment, it seemed like it was true. The world was this step, this circle of lamplight, the two of us suspended in the dark. "Come on!" bellowed Mikhael from the path. Mal started like a man waking from a dream. He gave my hand a last squeeze before he dropped it. "Gotta go," he said, his brash grin sliding back into place. "Try to get some sleep." He hopped lightly from the stairs and jogged off to join his friends. "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 sat frozen on the steps, watching them disappear down the path, still feeling the warm pressure of Mal's hand in mine. Oh well , I thought as I got to my feet. Maybe he' ll fall into a ditch on his way there. I edged back into the barracks, closed the door tightly behind me, and gratefully snuggled into my bedroll. Would that black-haired Grisha girl sneak out of the pavilion to meet Mal? I pushed the thought away. It was none of my business, and really, I didn't want to know. Mal had never looked at me the way he'd looked at that girl or even the way he looked at Ruby, and he never would. But the fact that we were still friends was more important than any of that. For how long? said a nagging voice in my head. Alexei was right: things change. Mal had changed for the better. He'd gotten handsomer, braver, cockier. And I'd gotten ... taller. I sighed and rolled onto my side. I wanted to believe that Mal and I would always be friends, but I had to face the fact that we were on different paths. Lying in the dark, waiting for sleep, I wondered if those paths would just keep taking us further and further apart, and if a day might come when we would be strangers to each other once again. Copyright © 2012 by Leigh Bardugo Excerpted from Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
