Shadow and Bone

Without looking at me, he gestured to the chair across from
him. I walked over to the fire, but I did not sit. He glanced at
me with faint exasperation and then looked back into the
flames.
“Sit down, Alina.”
I perched on the edge of the chair, watching him warily.
“Speak,” he said. I was starting to feel like a dog.
“I have nothing to say.”
“I imagine you have a great deal to say.”
“If I tell you to stop, you won’t stop. If I tell you you’re
mad, you won’t believe me. Why should I bother?”
“Maybe because you want the boy to live.”
All of the breath went out of me and I had to stifle a sob.
Mal was alive. The Darkling might be lying, but I didn’t think
so. He loved power, and Mal’s life gave him power over me.
“Tell me what to say to save him,” I whispered, leaning
forward. “Tell me, and I’ll say it.”
“He’s a traitor and a deserter.”
“He’s the best tracker you have or ever will have.”
“Possibly,” said the Darkling with an indifferent shrug. But
I knew him better now, and I saw the flicker of greed in his
eyes as he tilted his head back to empty his glass of kvas. I
knew what it cost him to think of destroying something he
might acquire and use. I pressed this small advantage.
“You could exile him, send him north to the permafrost until
you need him.”
“You’d have him spend the rest of his life in a work camp or
a prison?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes.”
“You think you’ll find a way to him, don’t you?” he asked,
his voice bemused. “You think that somehow, if he’s alive,
you’ll find a way.” He shook his head and gave a short laugh.