M atthias would be atoning for the mistakes he’d made in this life long into the next one, but he’d always believed that despite his crimes and failings, there was a core of decency inside him that could never be breached. And yet, he felt sure that if he had to spend another hour with Alys Van Eck, he might murder her just for the sake of a little quiet.
The siege on the lake house had gone off with a precision that Matthias couldn’t help but admire. Only three days after Inej was taken, Rotty had alerted Kaz to the lights that had appeared on Eil Komedie, and the fact that boats had been seen coming and going there at odd hours, often carrying a young Suli man. He’d quickly been identified as Adem Bajan, a music teacher indentured to Van Eck for the last six months. He’d apparently joined the Van Eck house hold after Wylan had left home, but Wylan wasn’t surprised his father had secured professional musical instruction for Alys.
“Is she any good?” asked Jesper.
Wylan had hesitated, then said, “She’s very enthusiastic.”
It had been easy enough to surmise that Inej was being kept on Eil Komedie, and Nina had wanted to go after her immediately.
“He didn’t take her out of the city,” she’d said, cheeks glowing with color for the first time since she’d emerged from her battle with parem . “It’s obvious he’s keeping her there.”
But Kaz had simply gazed into the middle distance with that odd look on his face and said, “Too obvious.”
“Kaz—”
“How would you like a hundred kruge ?” “What’s the catch?”
“Exactly. Van Eck’s making it too easy. He’s treating us like marks. But he isn’t Barrel born, and we aren’t a bunch of dumb culls ready to jump at the first shiny lure he flashes. Van Eck wants us to think she’s on that island. Maybe she is. But he’ll have plenty of firepower waiting for us too, maybe even a few Grisha using parem .”
“Always hit where the mark isn’t looking,” Wylan had murmured. “Sweet Ghezen,” said Jesper. “You’ve been thoroughly corrupted.”
Kaz had tapped his crow’s head cane on the flagstones of the tomb floor. “Do you know what Van Eck’s problem is?”
“No honor?” said Matthias.
“Rotten parenting skills?” said Nina. “Receding hairline?” offered Jesper.
“No,” said Kaz. “Too much to lose. And he gave us a map to what to steal first.”
He’d pushed himself to his feet and begun laying out the plans for kidnapping Alys. Instead of trying to rescue Inej as Van Eck expected, they would force Van Eck to trade her for his very pregnant wife. The first trick had been finding her. Van Eck was no fool. Kaz suspected that he’d gotten Alys out of the city as soon as he’d made his false deal with them, and their initial investigations supported that. Van Eck wouldn’t keep his wife in a warehouse or factory or industrial building, and she was at neither of the hotels he owned, or at the Van Eck country house or his two farms near Elsmeer. It was possible he’d spirited her away to some farm or holding across the True Sea, but Kaz doubted he’d put the woman carrying his heir through a grueling sea voyage.
“Van Eck must be keeping property off the books,” Kaz had said. “Probably income too.”
Jesper frowned. “Isn’t not paying your taxes … I don’t know, sacrilegious? I thought he was all about serving Ghezen.”
“Ghezen and Kerch aren’t the same thing,” Wylan said.
Of course, uncovering those secret properties had meant gaining access to Cornelis Smeet’s office, and another series of deceptions. Matthias hated the dishonesty of it all, but he couldn’t deny the value of the information they’d obtained. Thanks to Smeet’s files, Kaz had located the lake house, a fine property ten miles south of the city, easy to defend, comfortably appointed, and listed under the Hendriks name.
Always hit where the mark isn’t looking. It was sound thinking, Matthias could admit—military thinking, in fact. When you were outgunned and outmanned, you sought the less defended targets. Van Eck had expected a rescue attempt on Inej, so that was where he’d concentrated his forces. And Kaz had encouraged that, telling Matthias and Jesper to be as conspicuous as possible when they brought a gondel down to one of the private berths at Fifth Harbor. At eleven bells, Rotty and Specht had left Kuwei at Black Veil and, dressed in heavy cloaks to hide their faces, launched the boat, making a tremendous show of shouting to supposed compatriots setting out from other berths—most of them confused tourists who weren’t sure why strange men were yelling at them from a gondel .
It had taken everything in Matthias not to argue when Kaz had paired Nina with Jesper in the assault on the lake house, despite the fact that he knew the partnership made sense. They needed to take out the guards quietly to prevent anyone from raising an alarm or panicking. Matthias’ combat training made that possible, as did Nina’s Grisha abilities, so they’d been split up. Jesper and Wylan had noisier talents, so they would enter the fray only as a last resort. Also, Matthias knew if he started trailing after Nina on missions like some kind of watchdog, she’d put her hands on those glorious hips and demonstrate her knowledge of profanity in several different languages. Still, he was the only one besides perhaps Kuwei who knew how she’d suffered since they’d returned from the Ice Court. It had been hard to watch her go.
They’d approached from across the lake and made quick work of the few guards on the perimeter. Most of the villas along the shore were empty, as it was too early in the season for the weather to have gotten properly warm. But lights had burned in the windows of the Van Eck house—or, rather, the Hendriks house. The property had belonged to Wylan’s mother’s family for generations before Van Eck had ever set foot through the door.
It almost didn’t feel like a break-in; one of the guards had actually been dozing in the gazebo. Matthias didn’t realize there had been a casualty until the count on the guards had come up short, but there hadn’t been time to question Nina and Jesper about what had gone wrong. They’d tied up the remaining guards, herded them and the rest of the staff into the pantry, and then swept up the stairs to the second floor wearing the masks of the Komedie Brute. They’d stopped outside the
music room, where Alys was perched precariously on the bench of a pianoforte. Though they had expected to find her asleep, she was laboring her way through some piece of music.
“Saints, what is that noise?” Nina had whispered.
“I think it’s ‘Be Still, Little Bumble Bee,’ ” said Wylan from behind the mask and horns of his Gray Imp ensemble. “But it’s hard to tell.”
When they’d entered the music room, the silky-haired terrier at her feet had the sense to growl, but poor, pretty, pregnant Alys had just looked up from her sheet music and said, “Is this a play?”
“Yes, love,” said Jesper gently, “and you’re the star.”
They’d tucked her into a warm coat, then shepherded her out of the house and into the waiting boat. She’d been so docile that Nina had become concerned. “Maybe she’s not getting enough blood to her brain?” she’d murmured to Matthias.
Matthias hadn’t been sure how to account for Alys’ demeanor. He remembered his mother muddling the simplest things when she was pregnant with his baby sister. She’d walked all the way down to the village from their little house before she’d realized she was wearing her boots on the wrong feet.
But halfway back to the city, when Nina had bound Alys’ hands and tied a blindfold over her eyes, securing it tightly to the neat braids coiled atop her head, the reality of her situation must have started to sink in. She’d begun to sniffle, wiping her running nose on her velvet sleeve. The sniffling became a kind of wobbly deep breathing, and by the time they’d gotten Alys settled comfortably at the tomb and even found a little cushion for her feet, she’d let out a long wail.
“I want to go hooooooome,” she’d cried. “I want my dog.”
From then on, the crying hadn’t stopped. Kaz had eventually thrown his hands up in frustration, and they’d all stepped outside the tomb to try to find some quiet.
“Are pregnant women always like this?” Nina had moaned. Matthias glanced inside the stone hull. “Only the kidnapped ones.” “I can’t hear myself think,” she said.
“Maybe if we took the blindfold off?” Wylan suggested. “We could wear our Komedie Brute masks.”
Kaz shook his head. “We can’t risk her leading Van Eck back here.” “She’s going to make herself ill,” said Matthias.
“We’re in the middle of a job,” Kaz said. “There’s a lot that has to
happen before the exchange tomorrow. Someone find a way to shut her up, or I will.”
“She’s a frightened girl—” Wylan protested. “I didn’t ask for a description.”
But Wylan kept on. “Kaz, promise me you won’t—”
“Before you finish that sentence, I want you to think about what a promise from me costs and what you’re willing to pay for it.”
“It’s not her fault her parents shoved her into a marriage with my father.”
“Alys isn’t here because she did something wrong. She’s here because she’s leverage.”
“She’s just a pregnant girl—”
“Getting pregnant isn’t actually a special talent. Ask any luckless girl in the Barrel.”
“Inej wouldn’t want—”
In the space of a breath, Kaz had shoved Wylan against the tomb wall with his forearm, the crow head of his cane wedged beneath Wylan’s jaw. “Tell me my business again.” Wylan swallowed, parted his lips. “Do it,” said Kaz. “And I’ll cut the tongue from your head and feed it to the first stray cat I find.”
“Kaz—” Jesper said cautiously. Kaz ignored him.
Wylan’s lips flattened to a thin, stubborn line. The boy really didn’t know what was good for him. Matthias wondered if he’d have to try to intercede on Wylan’s behalf, but Kaz had released him. “Someone stick a cork in that girl before I get back,” he said, and strode off into the graveyard.
Matthias rolled his eyes heavenward. These lunatics all needed a solid six months in boot camp and possibly a sound beating.
“Best not to mention Inej,” Jesper said as Wylan dusted himself off. “You know, if you feel like continuing to live.”
Wylan shook his head. “But isn’t this all about Inej?”
“No, it’s all about the grand plan , remember?” Nina said with a snort. “Getting Inej away from Van Eck is just the first phase.”
They headed back into the tomb. In the lantern light, Matthias could see that Nina’s color was good. Maybe the distraction of the break-in at the lake house had been a positive thing, though he couldn’t ignore the fact that a guard had died during a mission that wasn’t meant to have a body count.
Alys had quieted and was sitting with her hands folded on her belly, releasing small, unhappy hiccups. She made a lackluster attempt at removing her blindfold, but Nina had been clever with the knots. Matthias glanced at Kuwei, who was perched across from her at the table. The Shu boy just shrugged.
Nina sat down next to Alys. “Would you um … like some tea?” “With honey?” Alys asked.
“I, uh … I think we have sugar?”
“I only like tea with honey and lemon.”
Nina looked like she might tell Alys exactly where she could put her honey and lemon, so Matthias said hurriedly, “How would you like a chocolate biscuit?”
“Oh, I love chocolate!”
Nina’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember saying you could give away my biscuits.”
“It’s for a good cause,” Matthias said, retrieving the tin. He’d purchased the biscuits in the hope of getting Nina to eat more. “Besides, you’ve barely touched them.”
“I’m saving them for later,” said Nina with a sniff. “And you should not cross me when it comes to sweets.”
Jesper nodded. “She’s like a dessert-hoarding dragon.”
Alys’ head had swiveled right and left behind her blindfold. “You all sound so young,” she said. “Where are your parents?” Wylan and Jesper burst out laughing. “Why is that funny?”
“It’s not,” Nina said reassuringly. “They’re just being idiots.”
“Hey, now,” said Jesper. “We’re not the ones dipping into your cookie stash.”
“I don’t let just anyone into my cookie stash,” Nina said with a wink. “She certainly doesn’t,” Matthias grumped, somewhere between
delighted to see Nina back to herself and jealous that Jesper was the one making her smile. He needed to dunk his head in a bucket. He was behaving like a besotted ninny.
“So,” Jesper said, throwing an arm around Alys’ shoulder. “Tell us about your stepson.”
“Why?” Alys asked. “Are you going to kidnap him too?”
Jesper scoffed, “I doubt it. I hear he’s twelve kinds of trouble to keep around.”
Wylan crossed his arms. “I hear he’s talented and misunderstood.”
Alys frowned. “I can understand him perfectly well. He doesn’t mumble or anything. In fact, he sounds a bit like you.” Wylan flinched as Jesper doubled over with laughter. “And yes, he’s very talented. He’s studying music in Belendt.”
“But what is he like ?” Jesper asked. “Any secret fears he confided?
Bad habits? Ill-conceived infatuations?”
Wylan shoved the tin of biscuits at Alys. “Have another cookie.” “She’s had three!” protested Nina.
“Wylan was always nice to my birds. I miss my birds. And Rufus. I want to go hoooooome.” And then she was blubbering again.
Nina had plunked her head down on the table in defeat. “Well done. I thought we might actually get a moment of silence. I’ve sacrificed my biscuits for nothing.”
“Have none of you people ever encountered a pregnant woman before?” Matthias grumbled. He remembered his mother’s discomfort and moods well, though he suspected Alys’ behavior might owe nothing to the child she was carrying. He tore a strip from one of the ragged blankets in the corner. “Here,” he said to Jesper. “Dip this in water so we can make a cool compress.” He squatted down and said to Alys, “I’m going to take off your shoes.”
“Why?” she said.
“Because your feet are swollen, and it will soothe you to have them rubbed.”
“Oh, now this is interesting,” Nina said. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Too late,” she said, wiggling her toes.
Matthias slid off Alys’ shoes and said, “You haven’t been kidnapped. You’re just being held for a brief time. By tomorrow afternoon you’ll be home with your dog and your birds. You know that no one is going to hurt you, yes?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, you can’t see me, but I’m the biggest person here, and I promise that no one will hurt you.” Even as he spoke the words, Matthias knew he might be lying. Alys was currently having her feet rubbed and a cool towel placed on her forehead in a pit full of some of the deadliest vipers slithering the streets of this misbegotten city. “Now,” he said, “it’s very important that you stay calm so that you don’t make yourself ill. What helps to cheer you?”
“I … I like to go for walks by the lake.”
“All right, maybe we can go for a walk later. What else?” “I like doing my hair.”
Matthias gave Nina a meaningful look.
She scowled. “Why do you assume I know how to arrange hair?” “Because yours always looks so nice.”
“Wait,” said Jesper. “Is he being charming?” He peered at Matthias. “How do we know this isn’t an impostor?”
“Perhaps someone could do your hair,” said Nina grudgingly. “Anything else?” asked Matthias.
“I like singing,” said Alys.
Wylan shook his head frantically, mouthing, No, no, no.
“Shall I sing?” Alys asked hopefully. “Bajan says that I’m good enough to be on the stage.”
“Maybe we save that for later—” suggested Jesper.
Alys’ lower lip began to wobble like a plate about to break. “Sing,” Matthias blurted, “by all means, sing.”
And then the real nightmare began.
It wasn’t that Alys was so bad, she just never stopped. She sang between bites of food. She sang while she was walking through the graves. She sang from behind a bush when she needed to relieve herself. When she finally dozed off, she hummed in her sleep .
“Maybe this was Van Eck’s plan all along,” Kaz said glumly when they’d assembled outside the tomb again.
“To drive us mad?” said Nina. “It’s working.” Jesper shut his eyes and groaned. “Diabolical.”
Kaz consulted his pocket watch. “Nina and Matthias should get going, anyway. If you get into position early, you can catch a few hours of sleep.” They had to be careful coming and going from the island, so they couldn’t afford to wait until dawn to assume their posts.
“You’ll find the masks and capes at the furrier,” Kaz continued. “Look for the golden badger on the sign. Get as close to the Lid as possible before you start handing them out and then head south. Don’t stay in any one place too long. I don’t want you drawing too much attention from the bosses.” Kaz met each of their gazes in turn. “Everyone needs to be in final position before noon. Wylan on the ground. Matthias on the roof of the Emporium Komedie. Jesper will be across from you on the roof of the Ammbers Hotel. Nina, you’ll be on the hotel’s third floor. The room
has a balcony overlooking Goedmedbridge. Make sure your sight lines are clear. I want you with eyes on Van Eck from moment one. He’ll be planning something, and we need to be ready.”
Matthias saw Nina cast a furtive glance at Jesper, but all she said was, “No mourners.”
“No funerals,” they replied.
Nina headed toward where the rowboat was moored. Kaz and Wylan stepped back into the tomb, but before Jesper could vanish inside, Matthias blocked his path.
“What happened at the lake house?” “What do you mean?”
“I saw the look she just gave you.”
Jesper shifted uneasily. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“Because Nina will claim she’s fine until she’s suffering too much to form the words.”
Jesper touched his hands to his revolvers. “All I’m going to say is be careful. She’s not … quite herself.”
“What does that mean? What happened at the Hendriks house?” “We ran into some trouble,” admitted Jesper.
“A man died.”
“Men die all the time in Ketterdam. Just stay alert. She may need backup.”
Jesper darted through the door, and Matthias released a growl of frustration. He hurried to catch up to Nina, turning Jesper’s warning over in his mind, but said nothing as she stepped into the boat and he launched them into the canal.
The smartest thing he’d done since they’d returned from the Ice Court was to give Kaz the remaining parem . It hadn’t been an easy decision. He was never sure how deep the well inside Kaz was, where to locate the limits of what he would or would not do. But Nina had no hold on Kaz, and when she’d crept into Matthias’ bed the night of the Smeet job, he’d been certain he’d made the right choice because, Djel knew, Matthias had been ready to give her anything she wanted if she would just keep kissing him.
She’d woken him from the dream that had been plaguing him since the Ice Court. One moment he had been wandering in the cold, blind from the snow, wolves howling in the distance, and in the next, he’d been awake, Nina beside him, all warmth and softness. He thought again of
what she’d said to him on the ship, when she’d been in the worst grips of the parem. Can you even think for yourself? I’m just another cause for you to follow. First it was Jarl Brum, and now it’s me. I don’t want your cursed oath.
He didn’t think she had meant it, but the words haunted him. As a drüskelle , he’d served a corrupt cause. He could see that now. But he’d had a path, a nation. He’d known who he was and what the world would ask of him. Now he was sure of nothing but his faith in Djel and the vow he’d made to Nina. I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath. Had he simply substituted one cause for another? Was he taking shelter in his feelings for Nina because he was afraid of choosing a future for himself?
Matthias put his mind to rowing. Their fates would not be settled this night, and they had much to do before dawn came. Besides, he liked the rhythm of the canals at night, the streetlamps reflected off the water, the silence, the feeling of passing unseen through the sleeping world, glimpsing a light in a window, someone rising restless from his bed to close a curtain or look out at the city. They tried to come and go from Black Veil as little as possible during the day, so this was the way he’d gotten to know Ketterdam. One night he’d glimpsed a woman in a bejeweled evening gown at her dressing table, unpinning her hair. A man
—her husband, Matthias assumed—had stepped behind her and taken over the task, and she’d turned her face up to him and smiled. Matthias couldn’t name the ache he felt in that moment. He was a soldier. So was Nina. They weren’t meant for such domestic scenes. But he’d envied those people and their ease. Their comfortable home, their comfort with each other.
He knew he asked Nina too often, but as they disembarked near East Stave, Matthias couldn’t stop himself from saying, “How do you feel?”
“Quite well,” she said dismissively, adjusting her veil. She was dressed in the glittering blue finery of the Lost Bride, the same costume she’d been wearing the night she and the other members of the Dregs had appeared in his cell. “Tell me, drüskelle , have you ever actually been to this part of the Barrel?”
“I didn’t have much opportunity for sightseeing while I was in Hellgate,” Matthias said. “And I wouldn’t have come here anyway.”
“Of course not. This many people having fun in one place might have shocked the Fjerdan right out of you.”
“Nina,” Matthias said quietly as they made their way to the furrier. He didn’t want to push, but he needed to know. “When we went after Smeet, you used a wig and cosmetics. Why didn’t you tailor yourself?”
She shrugged. “It was easier and faster.”
Matthias was silent, unsure of whether to press her further.
They passed a cheese shop, and Nina sighed. “How can I walk by a window full of wheels of cheese and feel nothing? I don’t even know myself anymore.” She paused, then said, “I tried to tailor myself. Something feels off. Different. I only managed the circles under my eyes, and it took every bit of my focus.”
“But you were never a gifted Tailor.” “Manners, Fjerdan.”
“Nina.”
“This was different. It wasn’t just challenging, it was painful. It’s hard to explain.”
“What about compelling behaviors?” Matthias asked. “The way you did at the Ice Court when you used the parem .”
“I don’t think it’s possible anymore.” “Have you tried?”
“Not exactly.” “Try it on me.”
“Matthias, we have work to do.” “Try it.”
“I’m not going to go rattling around in your head when we don’t know what might happen.”
“Nina—”
“Fine,” she said in exasperation. “Come here.”
They had nearly reached East Stave and the crowds of revelers had grown thicker. Nina pulled him into an alley between two buildings. She lifted his mask and her own veil; then slowly, she placed a hand on either side of his face. Her fingers slid into his hair and Matthias’ focus shattered. It felt like she was touching him everywhere.
She looked into his eyes. “Well?”
“I don’t feel anything,” he said. His voice sounded embarrassingly hoarse.
She arched a brow. “Nothing?” “What did you try to make me do?”
“I’m trying to compel you to kiss me.”
“That’s foolish.” “Why is that?”
“Because I always want to kiss you,” he admitted. “Then how come you never do?”
“Nina, you just went through a terrible ordeal—”
“I did. That’s true. You know what would help? A lot of kissing. We haven’t been alone since we were aboard the Ferolind .”
“You mean when you almost died?” said Matthias. Someone had to remember the gravity of this situation.
“I prefer to think of the good times. Like when you held my hair as I was vomiting into a bucket.”
“Stop trying to make me laugh.” “But I like your laugh.”
“Nina, this is not the time to flirt.”
“I need to catch you off your guard, otherwise you’re too busy protecting me and asking me if I’m okay.”
“Is it wrong to worry?”
“No, it’s wrong to treat me like I might break apart at any moment. I’m not that fine or that fragile.” She shoved his mask down none too gently, yanked her veil back in place, and strode past him out of the alley, across the street to a shop with a golden badger over the door.
He followed. He knew he’d said the wrong thing, but he had no idea what the right thing was. A little bell rang as they entered the shop.
“How can this place be open at such hours?” he murmured. “Who wants to buy a coat in the dead of night?”
“Tourists.”
And in fact, a few people were browsing the stacks of furs and pelts.
Matthias followed Nina to the counter.
“We’re picking up an order,” Nina said to the bespectacled clerk. “The name?”
“Judit Coenen.”
“Ah!” the clerk said, consulting a ledger. “Golden lynx and black bear, paid in full. Just a moment.” He vanished into the back room and emerged a minute later, struggling beneath the weight of two huge parcels wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. “Do you need help getting these to—”
“We’re fine.” Matthias hefted the packages with little effort. The people of this city needed more fresh air and exercise.
“But it may rain. At least let me—”
“We’re fine,” Matthias growled, and the clerk took a step backward. “Ignore him,” Nina said. “He needs a nap. Thank you so much for
your help.”
The clerk smiled weakly and they were on their way.
“You know you’re terrible at this, right?” Nina asked once they were on the street and entering East Stave.
“At lies and deception?” “At being polite.”
Matthias considered. “I didn’t mean to be rude.” “Just let me do the talking.”
“Nina—”
“No names from here on out.”
She was vexed with him. He could hear it in her voice, and he didn’t think it was because he’d been short with the clerk. They paused only so that Matthias could exchange his Madman’s costume for one of the many Mister Crimson ensembles folded into the packages from the furrier. Matthias wasn’t sure if the clerk had known what was stuffed in the brown-paper wrapping, if the costumes had been made in the shop, or if the Golden Badger was just some kind of drop spot. Kaz had mysterious connections throughout Ketterdam, and only he knew the truth of their workings.
Once Matthias found a large enough red cloak and placed the red-and- white lacquered mask over his face, Nina handed him a bag of silver coins.
Matthias bounced the bag once in his palm, and the coins gave a cheerful jingle. “They aren’t real, are they?”
“Of course not. But no one ever knows if the coins are real. That’s part of the fun. Let’s practice.”
“Practice?”
“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” Nina said in a singsong voice. Matthias stared at her. “Is it possible you’re running a fever?”
Nina shoved her veil up onto her head so he could experience the full force of her glare. “It’s from the Komedie Brute. When Mister Crimson comes onstage, the audience shouts—”
“Mother, Father, pay the rent,” Matthias finished.
“Exactly. Then you say, ‘I can’t, my dear, the money’s spent,’ and you toss a handful of coins into the crowd.”
“Why?”
“The same reason everyone hisses at the Madman and throws flowers at the Scarab Queen. It’s tradition. Tourists don’t always get it, but the Kerch do. So tonight, if someone yells, ‘Mother, Father, pay the rent …’ ”
“I can’t, my dear, the money’s spent,” Matthias intoned gloomily, casting a handful of coins into the air.
“You have to do it with more enthusiasm,” Nina urged. “It’s supposed to be fun.”
“I feel foolish.”
“It’s good to feel foolish sometimes, Fjerdan.” “You only say that because you have no shame.”
To his surprise, instead of offering a sharp retort, she went silent and remained that way until they took up their first position in front of a gambling parlor on the Lid, joining the musicians and buskers, only a few doors down from Club Cumulus. Then it was as if someone had flipped a switch in Nina.
“Come one, come all to the Crimson Cutlass!” she declared. “You there, sir. You’re too skinny for your own good. What would you think of a little free food and a flagon of wine? And you, miss, now you look like you know how to have a bit of fun… .”
Nina lured tourists to them one by one as if she’d been born to it, offering free food and drink and handing out costumes and flyers. When one of the bouncers from the gambling parlor emerged to see what they were up to, they moved along, heading south and west, continuing to give away the two hundred costumes and masks Kaz had procured. When people asked what it was all about, Nina claimed it was a promotion for a new gambling hall called the Crimson Cutlass.
As Nina had predicted, occasionally someone would spot Matthias’ costume and shriek, “Mother, Father, pay the rent!”
Dutifully, Matthias replied, doing his best to sound jolly. If the tourists and revelers found his performance lacking, no one said so, possibly distracted by the showers of silver coins.
By the time they reached West Stave, the stacks of costumes were gone and the sun was rising. He caught a brief flash from the roof of the Ammbers Hotel—Jesper signaling with his mirror.
Matthias escorted Nina up to the room reserved for Judit Coenen on the third floor of the hotel. Just as Kaz had said, the balcony had a
perfect view of the wide expanse of Goedmedbridge and the waters of West Stave, bordered on both sides by hotels and pleasure houses.
“What does that mean?” Matthias asked. “Goedmedbridge?” “Good maiden bridge.”
“Why is it called that?”
Nina leaned against the doorway and said, “Well, the story is that when a woman found out her husband had fallen in love with a girl from West Stave and planned to leave her, she came to the bridge and, rather than live without him, hurled herself into the canal.”
“Over a man with so little honor?”
“You’d never be tempted? All the fruits and flesh of West Stave before you?”
“Would you throw yourself off a bridge for a man who was?” “I wouldn’t throw myself off a bridge for the king of Ravka.” “It’s a terrible story,” said Matthias.
“I doubt it’s true. It’s just what happens when you let men name the bridges.”
“You should rest,” he said. “I can wake you when it’s time.” “I’m not tired, and I don’t need to be told how to do my job.” “You’re angry.”
“Or told how I feel. Get to your post, Matthias. You’re looking a little ragged around those gilded edges too.”
Her voice was cold, her spine straight. The memory of the dream came at him so hard he could almost feel the bite of the wind, the snow lashing his cheeks in stinging gusts. His throat burned, scraped raw as he shouted Nina’s name. He wanted to tell her to be careful. He wanted to ask her what was wrong.
“No mourners,” he murmured.
“No funerals,” she replied, her eyes trained on the bridge.
Matthias left quietly, descended the stairs, and crossed over the canal via the wide expanse of Goedmedbridge. He looked up at the balcony of the Ammbers Hotel but saw no sign of Nina. That was good. If he couldn’t see her from the bridge, then Van Eck wouldn’t be able to either. A few stone steps took him down to a dock where a flower seller was poling his barge full of blossoms into place in the rosy wash of morning light. Matthias exchanged a brief word with the man as he tended to his tulips and daffodils, noting the marks Wylan had chalked above the waterline on both sides of the canal. They were ready.
He made his way up the stairs of the Emporium Komedie, surrounded on all sides by masks and veils and glittering capes. Every floor had a different theme, offering fantasies of all kinds. He was horrified to see a rack of drüskelle costumes. Still, it was a good place to avoid notice.
He hurried to the roof and signaled to Jesper with his mirror. They were all in position now. Just before noon, Wylan would descend to wait in the canal-side café that always drew a noisy collection of street performers—musicians, mimes, jugglers—busking for tourist money. For now, the boy lay on his side, tucked beneath the stone ledge of the roof and dozing lightly. Matthias’ rifle lay bundled in oilcloth beside Wylan, and he’d set out a whole string of fireworks, their fuses curled like mice tails.
Matthias settled his back against the ledge and shut his eyes, floating in and out of consciousness. He was used to these long stretches with little sleep from his time with the drüskelle . He would wake when he needed to. But now, he marched across the ice, the wind howling in his ears. Even the Ravkans had a name for that wind, Gruzeburya , the brute, a killing wind. It came from the north, a storm that engulfed everything in its path. Soldiers died mere steps from their tents, lost in the whiteness, their cries for help eaten by the faceless cold. Nina was out there. He knew it and he had no way to reach her. He screamed her name again and again, feeling his feet going numb in his boots, the ice seeping through his clothes. He strained to hear an answer, but his ears were full of the roar of the storm and somewhere, in the distance, the howl of wolves. She would die on the ice. She would die alone and it would be his fault.
He woke, gasping. The sun was high in the sky. Wylan stood above him, shaking him gently. “It’s almost time.” Matthias nodded and rose, rolling his shoulders, feeling the warm spring air of Ketterdam around him. It felt alien in his lungs. “Are you all right?” Wylan asked tentatively, but apparently Matthias’ glower was answer enough. “You’re great,” Wylan said, and hurried down the stairs.
Matthias consulted the cheap brass watch Kaz had acquired for him. Almost twelve bells. He hoped Nina had rested more easily than he had. He flashed his mirror once at her balcony and felt a surge of relief when a bright light flashed back to him. He signaled to Jesper, then leaned over the roof’s ledge to wait.
Matthias knew Kaz had chosen West Stave for its anonymity and its
crowds. Already its denizens had started to come awake again after the previous evening’s revels. The servants who tended to the needs of their various houses were doing their shopping, accepting shipments of wine and fruit for the next night’s activities. Tourists who had just arrived in the city were strolling down both sides of the canal, pointing to the elaborately decorated signs that marked each house, some famous, some notorious. He could see a many-petaled rose fashioned in white wrought iron and gilded with silver. The House of the White Rose. Nina had worked there for nearly a year. He’d never questioned her about her time there. He had no right to. She had stayed in the city to help him, and she could do as she wished. And yet he’d been unable to keep from imagining her there, the curves of her body laid bare, green eyes heavy- lidded, cream-colored petals caught in the dark waves of her hair. There were nights when he imagined her beckoning him closer, others when it was someone else she welcomed in the dark, and he’d lie awake, wondering if it would be jealousy or desire that drove him mad first. He tore his eyes from the sign and pulled a long glass from his pocket, forcing himself to scan the rest of the Stave.
Just a few minutes before noon, Matthias caught sight of Kaz advancing from the west, his dark shape a blot moving through the crowd, his cane keeping time with his uneven gait. The crowd seemed to part around him, perhaps sensing the purpose that drove him. It reminded Matthias of villagers making signs in the air to ward off evil spirits. Alys Van Eck waddled along beside him. Her blindfold had been removed, and through his long glass, Matthias could see her lips moving. Sweet Djel, is she still singing? Judging from the sour expression on Kaz’s face, it was a distinct possibility.
Beyond the other side of the bridge, Matthias saw Van Eck approach. He held himself rigidly, his posture erect, arms kept tight to his body as if he feared that the sin-rich air of the Barrel would stain his suit.
Kaz had been clear: Taking out Van Eck was a last resort. They didn’t want to kill a member of the Merchant Council, not in broad daylight in front of witnesses.
“Wouldn’t it be cleaner?” Jesper asked. “A heart attack? A brain fever?” Matthias would have preferred an honest kill, an open battle. But that was not the way things were done in Ketterdam.
“He can’t suffer if he’s dead,” Kaz had said, and that had been the end of it. The demjin brooked no argument.
Van Eck had come surrounded by guards dressed in the red-and-gold livery of his house. Their heads swiveled left and right, taking in their surroundings, looking for threats. From the hang of their coats, Matthias could tell they were all armed. But there, surrounded by three huge guards, was a tiny hooded figure. Inej.
Matthias was surprised at the gratitude that flooded him. Though he’d only known the little Suli girl for a short while, he’d admired her courage from the first. And she’d saved their lives multiple times, putting herself at risk to do so. He’d questioned many of his choices, but never his commitment to seeing her freed from Van Eck. He only wished she’d separate herself from Kaz Brekker. The girl deserved better. Then again, maybe Nina deserved better than Matthias.
Both parties reached the bridge. Kaz and Alys walked forward. Van Eck signaled the guards holding Inej.
Matthias looked up. From the other rooftop, Jesper’s mirror was flashing frantically. Matthias scanned the area around the bridge, but he couldn’t see what had gotten Jesper so panicked. He peered through the long glass, training it on the labyrinthine streets that flowed outward from both sides of the Stave. Kaz’s retreat appeared clear. But when Matthias looked past Van Eck to the east, his heart filled with dread. The streets were dotted with clusters of purple, all of them moving toward the Stave. Stadwatch. Was it just a coincidence or something Van Eck had planned? Surely he wouldn’t want to risk city officials finding out what he’d been up to? Could the Fjerdans be involved? What if they were coming to arrest both Van Eck and Kaz?
Matthias flashed his mirror twice at Nina. From her lower vantage point, she wouldn’t see the stadwatch until it was too late. Again he felt the cold lash of the wind, heard his voice calling her name, felt his terror rise as no answer came. She’ll be fine , he told himself. She’s a warrior. But Jesper’s warning ran in his ears. Be careful. She’s not quite herself. He hoped Kaz was ready. He hoped Nina was stronger than she seemed. He hoped the plans they’d laid were enough, that Jesper’s aim was true, that Wylan’s calculations were correct. Trouble was coming for them all.
Matthias reached for his rifle.
