THE LAST TIME ANASTASIA woke up with a warm body wrapped around her, she'd nearly been murdered thirty seconds after waking up.

So when she jolted into consciousness the next morning, a slender arm holding her close, she fought the urge to scream bloody murder, even more so when she realized whose arm it was.

She scrambled to climb out of his bed, thankful that she wore a shirt—probably Jesper's, judging by how the soft fabric hung down to her mid-thigh—instead of being naked.

Saints. What was she thinking? This was possibly one of the absolute worst ideas she'd ever had in her life, and she'd done plenty of brainless things over the decades. Hell, she'd done more idiotic things in the past two months alone. Accepting Kaz's deal instead of killing all of them was more stupid than anything she'd done in her four centuries, but kissing Jesper and sleeping with him put even that to shame.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Jesper's voice was gravelly from sleep. "I like to snuggle in the morning."

She froze, halfway to the door and to the freedom of being outside this room. His stare was heavy, and she felt his eyes on her bare legs as well as the icy blonde hair that tumbled down her back. She didn't say a word, didn't even bother trying to pick up the clothing she'd strewn around the room in her rush to get undressed the night before.

She heard the bed creak and the sheets rustle. She sent a silent prayer to the Saints that he wasn't naked.

"I'm serious. I like to cuddle. Get back over here." He persisted.

Anastasia ignored him once more and made an another attempt in earnest towards the door. This time, he didn't stop her, and she was able to escape into the hallway without him following her.

And then she was running smack-dab into Kaz, whose dark eyes looked down at her with judgement held within them.

She tugged the shirt farther down her legs, wishing desperately to disappear into a cloud of shadow. But she knew that Kaz Brekker would crack her kneecaps into pieces with that cane of his before she had a chance to summon even a wisp of darkness.

"Anastasia." He said roughly.

She gulped; it wasn't often that humans scared her, but Kaz had her shaking like a leaf. "Kaz." She managed to reply.

His gaze moved from her face to the barely-open door behind her, then back to her face again. "I trust you'll be on time for your training session this morning, and that there will be no other...distractions."

Shit. Training. She'd nearly forgotten about it, especially since she hadn't had the chance to look in a mirror since sustaining her injuries, and the pain had subsided overnight. She knew for a fact that her eye was still blackened, and there was probably a scar on her lip where it had been split. Whatever Carr had in store for her today would likely consist of more of yesterday's pulverizing.

She nodded. "I'll be on time."

"Good."

⚜︎

Jesper's smirk was infuriating. He wouldn't stop looking at Anastasia, even as she stepped into the boxing ring to spar with Inej.

It seemed that, unfortunately, Inej noticed. "What's going on with that?" She asked, ducking when Anastasia swung at her.

Anastasia grit her teeth and hissed in annoyance, for Inej had managed to land a relatively soft kick on her thigh. "Nothing's going on." She spat, cringing at how defensive she sounded. "Nice kick."

The girls circled each other, both of them lurking for an opening. Neither of them was an experienced fighter—Anastasia relied on her shadows, and Inej tended to favor slipping away like a ghost—and while it was only a training exercise, they were willing to throw themselves headfirst into it, as long as they were meant to be fighting each other.

"Your stance is all wrong, Anastasia. Your shoulders are too open, your fists aren't in the right position, and your feet need to be farther apart." Carr barked at Anastasia from where he stood outside of the ring, and her spine straightened at the sound of his voice and Jesper's laughter. "Inej, step out, please. I'd like to teach our friend Anastasia how to position herself in order to not get pummeled."

The pain from yesterday's injuries came rushing back to her, feeling like a slap to the face that nearly toppled her over. "No. You can show me from where you stand." There was a silent, underlying plea of please don't touch me again that she thought and did not say, but her unspoken words were clear to Carr.

Instead of coming near her, he simply sighed and gave a relenting nod.

In an exaggerated fashion, he moved his hands until his fists hovered just in front of his chin, forearms corded with muscle protecting most of his chest and abdomen. His feet were planted on the ground at a shoulder's width apart, but he held most of his weight on the balls of his feet instead of keeping them firmly rooted to the ground. His broad, burly shoulders hunched inward, further protecting his torso. He explained to her that, while his legs were an open target, they were mostly out of range for an opponent's punches. Unless said opponent was to fight dirty and start kicking, he was confident in the fact that he was protecting his vital organs.

Anastasia mirrored him, although her body, far more slight and willowy than his, seemed to lack any sort of physical power, unlike him.

"Better. Much better."

She didn't smile widely at the praise, but one corner of her mouth quirked up. Better would do very well, compared to how atrocious Carr thought her previous posture was.

She was almost reminded of the way her mother would give her compliments that always sounded rather backhanded while the family used to train together. Needs improvement, but not horrible was one of the woman's favorites, along with you're almost as proficient as I was at your age. They stung, but also filled Anastasia with a sense of bittersweet pride.

"Very well." Carr said after Anastasia had proved herself capable of holding her body correctly. "You may go. Rest, eat, and tomorrow we will see how much you have learned."

Her stomach growled at his words, and she hadn't realized how hungry she'd been. She'd returned to her own bedroom after her run-in with Kaz that morning, going back to bed and eventually oversleeping. She'd missed breakfast, much to her disdain.

Inej gave her an almost proud smile. "Look at you. Didn't even get punched in the face once today!"

"Well, there's always tomorrow."

They walked back to the Slat in near silence, followed by Jesper several yards behind them. If he was going to mention the tryst he'd had with Anastasia the night before, it wasn't going to be now.

As Anastasia's shoes scuffed along the pavement, she turned to her companion with a curious frown. "How are you always so quiet? You never make a noise when you walk and, sometimes, I forget you're in a room until you speak." She asked, brushing the sweaty strands of ivory hair that had begun to curl around her temples away from her face.

Inej didn't laugh, but there was a sad sort of humor in her voice when she replied: "It's a long story. Long and sad and horrible, but the point is that I learned to be seen and not heard, and then, eventually, not even seen. I adapted to my situation." She said as they walked. "What about you? How are you so good at hiding things? I've barely been able to crack you yet, and we've known each other for two months."

And thank the Saints for that, Anastasia thought grimly. Soon enough, though, if Inej became more adept at reading her tells and expressions, she'd know every single secret Anastasia kept.

"Just years of practice, I'd presume."

⚜︎

There was so much tension between Jesper and Anastasia that the others were beginning to sense it. Clara, of course, could tell something was going on by reaching out with her Heartrender abilities—Anastasia's blood was rushing in her ears, so loud that she could hear it and Clara could, too, and she smiled knowingly.

"So, Kaz," Clara began, and she fought down a wider grin when Anastasia choked on her food. "Say I wanted to take the five of us on a... I don't know, group outing. A team bonding evening, perhaps. What would you say to that?"

She was up to something, it seemed.

Kaz's answer was short and harsh: "Not a chance, Wilde."

She frowned at the sound of her surname, although he never called her by anything else. "I'm not saying it'd be a night of drugs and depravity—" Oh, she very much was hoping it'd be a night like that. "—but I feel like some of us haven't bonded as much as others have. And for us to be a productive team, well, we need to connect. Be comfortable with each other." She said, turning up the charm but not using her ability.

Inej, somehow catching Clara's drift, smiled behind her drink. "I think it'd be a nice time."

Anastasia bit back a scowl. Traitor, she thought. After the events of the gala, where she and Jesper stole hundreds of thousands of kruege worth of jewels, they were a wanted group. A night on the town, possibly among those who knew what they had done or, at the very least, knew that the suspects of the theft were out there somewhere, meant the possibility of discovery and, likely enough, arrest. And with the enounter with the Stadwatch officer nearly a month ago, well, their faces are recognizable.

"I don't think it's the best idea." Jesper spoke up, surprising them all with his contrary opinion. They'd all thought he'd be the first to agree to a night on the town. His eyes flicked over Anastasia's face for the first time since they'd sat down. "Probably for the best that we stay in 'til the whole heist thing blows over."

It seemed that Kaz, too, was put off by Jesper's sudden turn to reason, but he turned to Clara without much if a reaction. "What did you have in mind?"

Clara smiled impishly. "Well, I did a bit of exploring the other day, and there's this club—a dance hall, really."

"Didn't we go there on one of our first nights here?" Anastasia asked quietly.

Shaking her head, Clara replied, "No, not that one. A different one, closer to here." Her devilish smile transformed into a small smirk. "It's a club that requires costumes for entry, so don't fret, my dear Stas. You'll be safe."

Anastasia still frowned. "Who all would be going?"

They glanced around at each other, each of them knowing without having to ask who would abstain.

However, Kaz gave them what almost resembled a smile. "We'll all go. After dinner. I'll meet the four of you in the foyer then."

He stood up and retreated from the dining room, causing dropped jaws and raised eyebrows. Inej even laughed.

⚜︎

The girls were in Anastasia's bedroom, Clara lounging on the bed while Anastasia sat in the vanity chair with Inej hovering over her, a white eyeliner pencil in her hand.

"Your hands are twitching, Stas." Clara chided teasingly, propped up on her elbows as she watched the ordeal. "You really that nervous?"

Anastasia shot the Heartrender a withering look. "I just don't think it's a good idea." She said, reaching up to tug at the hair that Inej had meticulously styled, only to have that hand swatted at.

Clara sighed. "It's been, what, a month? People have forgotten that it even happened, or at least forgotten your face. Plus, we'll put so much makeup on you that even if they remember your face, they won't be able to recognize it." She said, voice filled with reassurance.

Copying her sigh, Anastasia simply waited for Inej to be done painting her face. When they were done with that, it was time to dress, although Anastasia hadn't the slightest idea what costume Clara had managed to scrape together. All she knew that the eye makeup had been white, the lipstick black, the rouge on her cheeks a dark red, and that the pile of fabric that sat on the bed like a puddle of moonlight was a pale silver.

"C'mere, away from the mirror. And take off that dressing robe, will you?" Clara barked out the order like a war general.

Anastasia untied the robe and let it slip down her body, where it pooled at her feet. She allowed Clara to maneuver her body and tug the silvery dress over her head.

Instead of a corset, Anastasia felt her closest friend fasten buttons up and down the back of the dress, and the light, silky fabric covered her arms and upper body tightly before flowing loosely down her legs. There was the sensation of something being attached to her back, but she wasn't allowed to turn around and look.

"Alright." Clara said after an agonizing handful of minutes. "You can look in the mirror and admire me and Inej's handywork. Because, Saints, we did a beautiful job."

Anastasia turned then, and a gasp fell from her lips.

They had dressed her up as some sort of angel, with her long blonde hair dusted with silver and gold and slicked back, her face pale except for the black lip paint and red rouge, and a set of silver wings were fixed to the back of her dress.

She was stunned into silence. She looked even prettier than she had the night of the heist, except this form of pretty was more ethereal, otherworldly. Most days, she simply looked like a girl. A bit unnatural, but still like a girl. But tonight... tonight she looked every bit like the princesses that her mother had read to her about as a child.

In the mirror, Anastasia saw Clara and Inej exchange grins. They were clearly proud of the vision before them that they had created.

When she opened her mouth to reply, Inej held up a halting hand. "Don't bother thanking us."

Clara laughed. "Thank us when you woo your way into some poor, unsuspecting man's bed."