(Aw why can't her's look like that. It's really pretty.)

"Thank you, sir."

"You're very welcome." She thanks Genya for the work, then leads them both off. She goes over the order of events she expects today, including: "He'll want you to demonstrate your power. Keep your focus on me; as a living amplifier, I can call it forward."

"Do we have time to practice that?"

She, uh, still hasn't seen herself use her power yet.

"Yes, very briefly."

"Can we?"

"We can."

She leads them towards a more isolated room - it looks like an office, one with some sunlight but not one where passerby are likely. 

Cool. Good place to practice.

"What do I do?"

"Give me your hands, and look at me."

She does so.

(Her heart is starting to beat more quickly.)

She rolls up Svetka's sleeve, carefully, and strokes her arm, elbow to wrist - and then the Darkling slides a small metal claw out of her own sleeve, securing it to her own finger. "There is a light within you. A power. Look in my eyes, and summon it."

The claw slides into Svetka's arm, almost gently - drags down - and darkness billows around her, caressing her. 

And the darkness calls.

A warmth deep inside of her, curled up so tight it was invisible, twitches as she looks into the Darkling's eyes. It ripples, spreading tendrils through her, and as her arm is scored-

-the light rushes forth, churning into the darkness, absorbing it and overpowering it.

The light catches the Darkling's broad smile, and she grips Svetka's arm, tightly - 

And then, all too soon, her darkness receeds, and the call from her ceases. 

The light fades away when there's nothing more to call it forth.

"...Wow."

"A beautiful showing."

"Good enough for royalty?"

"Good enough for me - which means it far exceeds kingly standards."

Giggle. "Fair enough."

Smile.

She has Genya heal the wound, then, and carefully washes the blood off Svetka's arm, so it won't be clear through the uniform. 

(There's no good reason for getting the scratch cleaned up to be disappointing, brain, what in the name of all the Saints is wrong with you-)

Then it's time to go to the Grand Palace soon?

Yes, as soon as they're all put back together. 

The Grand Palace, as befits it's name, is much more ornate than the Little Palace, more focused on showing opulence than defensibility. For all that Ravka is nigh-constantly at war, Os Alta is rarely touched by it.

The king, Alexander III, receives the Darkling and her Grisha in the throne room, dressed in a military uniform not dissimilar from the one Svetlana wears- though with far more medals adorning his breast. (All of them awarded by himself to himself.) His throne is hardwood not carved by hand, but shaped by the efforts of Fabrikators centuries ago, with the double eagle that is both the Lantsov and Ravka's symbol picked out in gemstones above his head. The periphery of the room is occupied by courtiers, the men mostly in uniforms of the same type and meaningfulness as the king's, the women in gowns that take their cue from the queen's latest sartorial decisions.

The Grisha delegation filing in to fill the center of the room make a decided contrast, in their red, blue, and purple keftas.

The Darkling keeps pace with Svetka, leads her forward from the rest as her Grisha stand with military precision, not a hair out of place. The Grisha are uniform where the nobility are trying to show off, and the cohesion of it - their stern expressions, their synced movement - create a dangerous impression.

And the rehearsal the Darkling had Svetka do was perfectly on cue. Svetka has some experience with marching, of course, even if not with parading - and the Darkling makes up for that, matching her own movement to Svetka's as if they've rehearsed this a hundred times as much as they actually have.

The scripts the Darkling gave her seem similarly well designed - the King isn't on any script that he knows of, but the Darkling has predicted him so well it doesn't matter. 

And the time comes, near the end, for Svetka to show off. The Darkling signals for her to face her General, to reach out her arm as she did in the office - 

The call to the light within her is worlds stronger, this time. 

And her light's response is proportionally greater.

It takes several seconds of the nobility blinking spots out of their eyes before the applause begins. (The king's smile has a hungry edge to it, as he gazes greedily at the newly-proven Sun Summoner.)

The Darkling keeps up her call for slightly longer this time - and then ramps it down slowly, and signals Svetka for the scripted accepting congratulations and waiting to be dismissed. 

"Pity the girl's a Suli," the king says. "Pretty enough though, eh General?"