𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗 — looking glass

━━━━━━━

 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 a vast silence after Matthias and Nina had scuttled through the snow with picks in their hands ready to craft graves for the deceased Grisha. Aleksa was ahead of the remaining five, though Kaz was beside her. His uneven gait trudged through the icy wasteland, his cane striking the ground.

 Aleksa had snapped at him again. Oftentimes whenever Kaz was a little more callous than usual, she wouldn't pay any mind. She'd roll her eyes, brush him off or retort... but he knew where she'd been, the fight she'd been a part of. He had to have known that all she'd seen in the months of her absence was the death of her own kind, her friends.

 Did he expect her to brush his death aside, should it fall untimely? What about Inej? Jesper? How would he react to them? No, Kaz might have tried to convince the world that he had little care left within his heart, but Aleksa knew different, she knew better.

 He tested Jesper by sending him off with kruge... if he failed, Kaz would shake his head and tut like a damned father. But... on the very few occasions that Jesper managed to stave away his thirst for the dice and actually complete his task, well, Aleksa might have been the only one to notice that Jesper had an extra note or coin in his pocket.

 It took two more days of travel through the arduous snow and ice after Nina and Matthias had joined back with them. They pushed through the whipping winds that battered against their cheeks like frozen whips... but eventually they found themselves atop the cliffs that overlooked Djerholm. The worst of their trek was behind them now, and the going was far easier as they moved south and toward the coast.

 The ice on the ground thawed, revealing small dirt paths and lime-green grass that had been revitalised by the warmth flooding the air. Signs of spring were erupting, from the light smatterings of winter aconite, or the little burst of flowers in the shapes of blue stars. Aleksa plucked one from the ground; it smelled sweet and she soon weaselled it into Inej's braid.

 Djerholm was ever so different to Ketterdam. The dingy little Barrel was a canvas of smog. The sky was flooded with heavy fog from dusk until dawn, snuffing out any sight of vibrant stars. The sea had an odd grey tinge to the waves, as though someone had sapped it of its magnificent green. Ketterdam's harbour was as dark and dingy as the rest of the city; as though someone had managed to plonk a few raggedy old boats within a bloodstained alleyway. 

 Djerhold had a harbour of its own, but it was clear. You could spy the horizon through wide eyes and watch with ease as cold-blue waves tittered here and there. The ships were all pale blue or white, while the tidy streets of Djerholm were glossed in reds and blues, pinks and yellows.

 Every home and store stood proudly, vibrant against the pale white background. Even the warehouses were colourful; no dull greys and blacks, no splodges of oil with every step you took, no blood to mark the ground...

 No, Aleksa thought, all the blood they spilled would be hidden beneath snow, obscured amongst the white-capped mountains.

 Aleksa could only hope their quaint little ship, courtesy of the delightful Rajak, was snug within Djerholms harbour. If all went to plan — and nothing ever did, so she really wasn't holding out hope — then tomorrow night they'd be strolling through Djerholms cheerful streets, they'd take a turn and meander towards the docks with Bo Yul-Bayur in tow. They'd hop on the Ferolind and find themselves setting sail atop rocking waters once more. Out of sight and most certainly not out of mind for the Fjerdans that would come looking for them.

 If things went wrong, however... Aleksa took a particularly heavy step, avoiding one of the blue-starred flowers. If things went wrong, they'd probably all be dead, so that was something to look forward to.

 Kaz narrowed his eyes as Aleksa seemed to hop around the flowers, sure to keep each of them pristine and without any crumples upon their petals, "Don't tell me you're thinking of backing out now."

 He was greeted by a blank look. Out of them all, Kaz should have known Aleksa would have been the last to fall back. The prospect of danger and death simply meant there was a fun little chase to be had, adrenaline to douse herself within, "You're many things, pretty boy, but you're not stupid."

 Pretty boy. He could have grinned at that name right there and then; it simply meant the cold shoulder he received was beginning to thaw... he'd have to find a bag of sweets for her, perhaps a frosted pastry before they entered the Ice Court; if he pissed her off again, he knew he'd be the one scorching from the incinerator.

 "Why the frown?" Kaz asked.

 "Simply imagining the many ways we could die."

 "You're the picture of optimism."

 "I quite hope I get eaten by a wolf. It'd be too embarrassing for a druskelle to get me... Matthias' ghost would never let me live it down."

 Aleksa pouted, but when Kaz let out a muffled breath of amusement, she simply couldn't tame the smile that crept to her lips. She'd made him laugh. Her finger jutted out, ever so close to poking right into his heart, "You better not be laughing at my hypothetical misfortunes."

 Kaz's eyes darted to the finger hovering over his heart. Not close enough to touch, never close enough to touch... His eyes trailed her hand, up her arm, and right back to her pink face; the cold had made them all look like blushing maidens, "You could kick Matthias' ghost's ass."

 "Well... yeah. That's not the point."

 "No?"

 "Though..." Aleksa trailed off, her finger dipping right back into her warm pocket, "The brute would probably die from something stupid anyway."

 "His own gun?" Kaz entertained, though even he had to admit that the image of the towering druskelle falling on his own loaded gun... was quite amusing,

 Aleksa snorted, "Sure, though I was thinking that with all the tree-hugging he does, he might snag himself on a particularly pokey branch or something."

 Kaz gritted his teeth, willing away the laugh clinging to his tongue.

 All too soon, Aleksa glanced away from him. She pried her eyes from that delightful look on his face, the one that made him seem his true age. The light smile so carefully crafted that it only slightly pulled at the edges of his lips. The little lines around his eyes as he surveyed her.

 But there was the Ice Court. It was still far ahead and it would be a terribly long walk to get themselves there... but it looked nothing like Wylan's drawing. Wylan had sketched something akin to a layered cake that Aleksa and Nina would have happily nibbled on — this building was huge.

 It stood tall and proud, all too much like the druskelle it housed. It looked like a great white sentinel standing upon the massive cliffside overseeing the harbour; Matthias had said the cliffs were unscalable... and Aleksa, for once, agreed with him. The cliff curved in such a manner that whoever climbed, would be left dangling like a noose. But even the rock itself looked somewhat smooth, as though a cluster of idiots had sanded down the edges, ensuring that no grubby fingers could find purchase.

 "Cannon," Said Jesper, a hand shielding his eyes from the bright sun above.

 Aleksa followed his gaze, spying the guns pointed out at the bay. Lovely, wolves, druskelle and now cannons. Such an array of misfortunes to choose from.

 "I've broken into banks, warehouses, mansions, museums, vaults, a rare book library, and once the bedchamber of a visiting Kaelish diplomat whose wife had a passion for emeralds. But I've never had a cannon shot at me." Kaz said.

 Aleksa snorted, recalling the delightful story that came along with that last instance he mentioned, "Well, there's a first time for everything."

 "There's something to be said for novelty," Jesper nodded, fingers back in his pockets, practically itching for his pearl-lined pistols. Oh, how he missed them.

 Aleksa supposed he was right. At least if they were to die, it would be in a way they hadn't yet seen before. All of them had danced within the jaws of death and danger, knives pointed at them, bullets whizzing past their pretty heads... never a cannon.

 But Aleksa didn't keep her eyes cast on the terrible horizon for much longer, she tapped the toe of her boot against Kaz's shoe, "All this talk of being blown to pieces is making me hungry."

 His face was blank.

 "Kaz. Feed me." Aleksa groaned, and all she could hear was Nina's muffled laughter... for the Heartrender wholeheartedly agreed. Lunch was a must. Aleksa tipped her head to the side, her best impression of a pretty little princess who deserved the world, "Please?"

 Many had thought Kaz Brekker was the one man immune to her charm, the one person who could turn deaf ears to the siren's call. He'd convinced himself of that too... until those few months leading up to their journey of capturing the Sun Summoner. That little... adventure... had made it all too clear to Kaz that he was, unfortunately, just as at Aleksa's mercy as every other man, woman and poor unfortunate soul out there.

 So he nodded. His slicked-back hair had fallen free, strands tangling in the wind, each one beginning to curl at the edges. He hated that; another remnant of Jor —

 He blinked, and in an instant, he pushed at Aleksa's back with his cane, "I suppose death on an empty stomach would be abysmal."

 Aleksa grinned as she tipped closer. The others had all jumped at his agreement, their rumbling stomachs dragging them closer and closer to the town as they left their lovely Aleksa and bitter Brekker behind, "You can never say no to me, can you?"

 "Don't push your luck."

 Aleksa paused. That tone of his would have had even Matthias Helvar trembling in his boots. Low and dark... but all Aleksa could hear was her darling pretty boy trying to cover up the fact that he was a fool at her behest, "Or what?"

 His mind was utterly blank as her warm breath spread over his cheeks, trailed down his neck and thawed just the tiniest speck of his frozen heart. She was a menace — a fact that was already well-known — but she'd gotten worse... Or maybe Kaz Brekker had gotten far too used to her being gone.

 Aleksa surveyed his face. The way his left eye almost twitched, as though he summoned every ounce of strength to keep his eyes on her own. She rose a finger close to his face, spying a little red cut on his cheek. It trailed over his cheekbone, only accentuating it further... it must have been from the spray of ice they'd fallen victim to thanks to the drugged Grisha.

 His jaw tightened, and yet no words flooded his lips... so she kept her finger just a hair from his flesh, "You have a cut."

 "Where?" Kaz could have tossed himself off the cliff when he'd heard the tightness of his voice. He shouldn't have asked, it was yet another display of his unwillingness to turn her away, wasn't it? Or was it the small part of him that still longed for the touch of another, the fantastical part of him that believed if he felt skin upon his own, he wouldn't buckle and break?

 Aleksa waited, blinking at his question. He was asking her to show him; that was the underlying message. Touch it, show me where. He'd never asked before... only ever held out his hand to help her to her feet, or hesitate to take her own if she reached out to him.

 Her touch was as gentle as a light gust of sweet summer air. It carried the smell of rose still lingering on the skin of her wrist. She swiped the pad of her pointer over the cut, and then pulled it away as Kaz clamped his eyes shut.

 He was struggling, even with that simple touch... and yet Aleksa smiled. He'd done it. Bare skin grazing against his own and he was still standing, "Right there," Aleksa whispered. The burning within her gut was all-consuming and so Aleksa freed them both from its clutches, "I'd kiss it better, but you'll find my touch is almost as magical as my lips."

 She'd thought a light-hearted joke would have been the water to douse the embers, but Kaz only looked at her. His eyes had fallen to her lips for just a split second, yet she'd seen it all the same.

 They slipped easily into the traffic of travellers and traders where the cliff road met the northern road that led to Upper Djerholm. The upper town was an odd extension of the city below; there were shops sprawled here and there, each containing a multitude of trinkets, books and warm furs to drape over oneself. The street was a haphazard and jagged pathway, it turned here and there, shops on each corner and you could never quite see far enough to know if you'd smack into another person.

 There were a few inns made of thick orange brick that served both the guards and staff who worked at the Ice court, as well as the multitude of visitors within their bustling town. They managed to blend with the crowds without a hint of attention brought their way; for while the Fjerdans were known for their pale-as-ice skin and blonde hair, the collection of tourists and travellers made it far easier for their rag-tag group from all over to fit in seamlessly.

 Aleksa twisted her head, eyes glinting at all of the displays the Fjerdans had sprung up for Hringkälla. The celebrations had spread all over; each shop had created displays of pepper cookies baked in the shape of wolves with little dots of frosting for their beaded eyes, some hanging like ornaments from the twisting trees that coiled around the bustling town. The bridge spanning the river gorge had ribbons of Fjerdan silver twisting around the railings, each one moving with the breeze and glinting beneath the sunlight.

 Wylan was right by her side, ogling at each little decoration. He nodded his head at a peddler's cart filled to the rim with wreaths made of the same twisting branches they could spy throughout the entire town. There were smaller silver ribbons tacked onto the dark wood, shining ever so brightly, much like the inside of the branches which appeared a pale grey, "What are they?"

 "Ash trees," replied Matthias. "Sacred to Djel."

 "There's supposed to be one in the middle of the White Island," said Nina, ignoring the warning look that Matthias tossed her way. She'd gotten used to it at this point, "It's where the drüskelle gather for the listening ceremony."

 Kaz tapped his walking stick on the ground. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of it?"

 Aleksa frowned, "Hello? I called him a tree-hugger?"

 "You did?" Matthias gritted through pale teeth. It was quite pitiful — how hard he tried to act intimidating, as though he didn't shudder whenever Aleksa moved the darkness even the slightest bit, "Besides, it's the holiest place in all of Fjerda and not essential to our mission."

 Kaz stared at the great lump, a certain glint within his eyes that made Matthias swallow. It was an almost unintelligible movement, and yet Kaz had spied it with ease. He pointed his cane, the end almost striking Matthias' heart, "I say what's essential," Then he turned to Aleksa, who batted the cane away from her, "Why didn't you mention this?"

 "Get that old thing out of my face," She swatted the cane once more. Why was it down to her to scour the plans and ensure Matthias was being truthful? Why couldn't Nina? Saints knows the Heartrender would have been overjoyed to spend more time near him, even if she did pretend that he left a sour taste in her mouth, "We know now, don't we?"

 "Hm."

 "Hm." Aleksa mocked, her voice lowering to such an extent that it cracked. With disdain, she kicked his cane, delighted as Kaz glared at her once he'd recovered from his stumble. She turned to Matthias; none of them had really trusted him, nor had the process of building such trust even begun. He scowled at the displays of small science, he'd cowered when Aleksa had conjured her dear nichyevo and he certainly didn't like to spill more information than he deemed necessary.

 Matthias jutted his chin higher as Aleksa bore that horrid look into his face; a wide smile, wild eyes, the very one that made men run, "Fjerdan, any more secrets to spill? Come on... don't make me shuck them out of you — You still have that itty bitty oyster knife?" She directed the last part to Kaz. He nodded.

 Matthias turned away, his bulky arms folded over his chest, "The Ice Court is a vast structure, I can't label every crack and corner."

 "Then let's hope nothing is lurking in those corners," Kaz replied.

 Upper Djerholm was vastly different to the little village of shops and stalls and pretty decorations they'd been meandering through — Aleksa had swiftly picked a petite bag of sweets made from treacle. They were hard to chew, sticking to her teeth here and there, but they were certainly delicious.

 She paid no mind as they wavered across the roads and dirt paths. Over cobble and stone... It seemed Kaz was leading them on a wild goose chase. When they came to a final stop, Aleksa had very nearly kept walking, her eyes still peering into the paper bag now only half-filled with her treats dusted in powdered sugar.

 Kaz snagged her coat sleeve, "Watch where you're going."

 "And steal away your chances of saving my poor distressed self? No, I'm quite content."

 She wanted to smother his blank look until he presented that pretty little smile of his. Aleksa peered into the main room of the awful-smelling place they'd stopped at. Garlic permeated her senses, and while she was quite the supporter of the vegetable being roasted and spread over toasted bread... the overwhelming stench of boiled fish joined it.

 Aleksa stuck her nose in the paper bag she carried, her voice muffled as she spoke, "You want to kill us, don't you?"

 Jesper fought for the bag for a moment, but with her wicked fingers pinching his glorious skin, he soon gave up, "Here?"

 Kaz rolled his eyes at their little squabble and simply tipped his head to the side as he offered the terrace above a flippant glance, "Terrace."

 Aleksa spied the sign plastered on the shoddy-looking building. It read 'gestinge'... paradise, apparently. But as another wave of hot fish and garlic flooded her poor burning nose, Aleksa cleared her throat, "Paradise isn't exactly the word I'd use."

 Even Matthias agreed with her, "No..."

 "Paradise or not," Kaz snatched the bag of treacle treats from Aleksa's hand. She looked entirely affronted, as though she'd summon the King of Ravka and his pitiful army to oppose him, "We need a table."

 Aleksa brightened then. It had been quite some time since she'd last flirted anything out of a man. She missed their glimmering eyes, the drool that would glisten on their lips as they followed her voice like a siren's song... fitting considering the sirens brethren, the sildroher, often gathered at Fjderda's coasts to feast on foolish men.

 Aleksa dipped her eyes to her coat... not exactly the outfit she'd don for such a task, but with the chill, it simply couldn't be helped. Aleksa ruffled her hair, pinched her already pink cheeks, and scrubbed at her lips just so they were the tiniest bit swollen.

 Nina watched her with a grin, it was like looking into a mirror.

 It took Aleksa just twenty-six seconds to charm the besotted fool behind the wooden counter. She'd leaned on her elbows, cheeks smooshed against her hands as her chin rested within her palms. Her voice came out sweeter than the bag of treats in Kaz's pocket.

 They were granted a table on the tavern's rooftop terrace. The area was mostly empty, and the vile smell was quite watered down — Aleksa's eyes still moistened, however. She supposed it could have been the winter that kept the patrons at bay, but when the scent of herring, garlic, burnt oil and absolutely smouldered hunks of bread wafted by... Aleksa knew the food was the cause.

 Aleksa looked at the bread basket. Lumps of what should have been bread shaped into golden-brown balls were nothing more than chunks of coal. The slab beside the sorry excuse for food should have been a plate of yellow and creamy butter... it looked furry and green.

 Aleksa tipped back in her chair, head lolled to the side as she met Kaz's eyes, "Give me back my sweets, I'm not dying for coal and mouldy butter."

 He slid the bag her way and watched as she groaned and dipped her hand inside. She plucked a frosted ball from within and popped it into her mouth, sure to supply both Inej and Nina with their own, before begrudgingly holding one out for both Wylan and Jesper to snag.

 They looked at her as though she were a Saint.

 Nina spoke as she chewed, the sweet almost clamping her jaw shut, "When I don't want to eat, you know there's a problem."

 Kaz watched them all — bar Matthias, who would likely have to beg for a single whiff of a sweet — struggle with their confection. Jesper broke out in a sweat, Wylan almost fell out of his chair, and even the Wraith couldn't quite manage to tear through it, "We're here for the view, not the food."

 Aleksa blinked, "You promised me lunch."

 "This is lunch."

 "This," Aleksa folded her arms, quite thrilled that she could finally breathe without her insides freezing entirely. She eyed the array of food on the tabletop, surprised she couldn't spy any bugs willing to feast, "Is poison." 

 From their table, Aleksa could see that they had quite the clear view of the Ice Court's outer gate, as well as the first guardhouse, no matter how distant it was. It was built into a white arch formed from two stone wolves standing upon their hind legs, and spanned the road leading up the hill to the imposing Court. Right where their most impossible heist would begin.

 Aleksa reached for a piece of the bread, plucking stray bits of char from its edges as she and the others all watched the traffic come and go through the gates. Jesper slurped a spoonful of his soup, almost retching as he did. Nina tried her hardest to eat a forkful of herring, but she placed the fork down after a single bite. Inej, the cleverest of them, hadn't touched anything before her.

 Aleksa tossed a piece of char at her, "Suffer with the rest of us."

 Inej flicked a piece of herring, "Give me another sweet."

 "You drive a hard bargain." Aleksa narrowed her eyes, pretending to consider her options... but this was Inej Ghafa. Aleksa handed over a sweet and watched as the Wraith chewed and chewed... she then moved onto her own bowl of soup, sure to scrape off the film on top, "I suppose you can repay me when we're back in Ketterdam, where real food exists."

 Matthias parted his lips, ready to defend his country... but as she stooped his ocean-blue eyes back to his sorry-looking plate of some kind of mush, he slumped.

 There wasn't any coffee to be had, because apparently Fjderda really was a wasteland. Instead, a pot of odd-coloured tea was delivered to their table, and the waiter walked away with pink cheeks as Aleksa thanked him with fluttering lashes. She poured a cup, and when she took a sip, Aleksa simply let it roll right back out of her mouth, sloshing back into the cup. She shuddered, "Nobody drink the tea."

 Jesper snorted, clapping Wylan on the shoulder as the merchling with ruddy curls snickered behind his hands. Even grumpy old Matthias chuckled, though he swiftly glared and stared out the window.

 "How can they mess up tea?" Nina whined.

 Aleksa slid the cup of bubbling mess as far away as possible, flicking a piece of char at Kaz as his lip curled, "I'm fearful that it isn't tea."

 "Saints. Herring that tastes like old rubber boots. Bread that looks like it's better used as kindling..." Nina held out a patient hand and her pink cheeks rose with utter delight as a piece of treacle was laid in the palm of her hand, "But," She tried to speak around the chewy glob, "We're going to start looking conspicuous soon, this isn't the kind of place people like to linger."

 Wylan peered out the window, raising a cup of the tea Aleksa had poured. Jesper laid his hand atop the brim, pushing it back to the table, "Maybe they don't have anyone to take to jail,"

 The merchling's suggestion was quite the innocent one indeed. He couldn't have been well attuned with Ketterdam or Fjerda if he truly believed there would ever stop being people to capture and encase in shackles.

 "There's always someone to take to jail," Kaz replied, then bobbed his pale chin towards the road, his scar glinting, "Look."

 A sigh parted Aleksa's lips as she propped herself on her elbows, bored eyes peering through the window. She felt the familiar sensation of being batted by a cane beneath the table... so she kicked Kaz's foot.

 A boxy wagon was rolling to a stop at the dreary guardhouse. Its roof and high sides were covered in black canvas; Aleksa knew the inside would be absolutely flooded with darkness... if that was Kaz's plan, to stuff them all inside and have them carted off, at least Aleksa would be comfortable. The wagon was drawn by four stout horses, one of them whinnied and flicked its tail. The door at the back was crafted from heavy iron, bolted and padlocked — no trouble at all for their dearest Dirtyhands.

 Kaz reached into his coat pocket, gloved finger withdrawing a slender book with an elaborate red leather cover. He handed it to Jesper, "Here."

 Jesper's dark brow climbed his forehead, "Are we going to read to each other?"

 "Just flip it open to the back."

 Jesper opened the book and scanned his eyes over the smudged letters on the last page. Now, he never really paid much attention to the books Kaz would read... but some pages about a boring old man who ploughed fields, not exactly very Kaz of him, "So?"

 "Hold it up so we don't have to look at your ugly face."

 "My face has character, right bug?" Jesper winked over the top of the boring old book, "Besides – oh!"

 "An excellent read, isn't it?"

 "Who knew I had a taste for literature?"

 Jesper passed it to Wylan, who took it tentatively, ready to pass it along without so much as a glance. "What does it say?"

 That was the second time Aleksa had clocked onto the boy. The lack of words on any of his drawings, the way his satchel held no papers unless they were covered in diagrams... and now he took the book as though the pages were made of fire. He didn't even bother to look down, as though he knew what he'd find.

 "Just look," said Jesper.

 Wylan frowned and held it up, and rather than confusion etching into his youthful and befreckled features, he grinned, "Where did you get this?"

 Matthias had his turn and released a surprised grunt.

 Kaz leaned back in his chair, fingers smoothing the pain echoing through his knee. The cold and damp Ketterdam nights had been bad enough, but trekking through ice and snow, getting pushed to the ground by doped-up Grisha... it ached.

 He tapped his other fingers along the table, gloved digits making the lightest of sounds, "It's called a backless book," He said as Inej handed the book to Aleksa.

 She lifted it, brushing a stray curl out of her face as she did. She scanned the words first and found her face scrunching up as some old fool drabbled on about carrots and the importance of fertilised soil... but the ornate back cover hid two little lenses that acted as a looking glass.

 She'd seen them before, multiple times in fact. Kaz had gotten Inej to keep an eye out for women using similar objects in the Crow Club; many men would stroll inside with a woman on their arm, and they'd separate and flock to separate sides of the room... but the woman would withdraw the lens disguised as a compact mirror and spy on her partner's opponents; she'd read their cards and signal to her partner.

 Nikolai's ships had them too; Aleksa had poked his side once, claiming they were only used to spy on pretty women... his response had been full of mock hurt as he said; 'You think so lowly of me? Nonsense, why would I need a looking glass to spy on beautiful women, if you're right here?' He'd tapped her nose, then shrieked as shadows coiled around his ankles and dragged him along the deck.

 Aleksa stared straight through the clear lenses, watching as wagons rolled up and down the hill, as guards thrust their weapons and kept their faces stern; she could see how Matthias would fit in, "Huh, so there's more to your brain than just thinking of me, pretty boy?"

 Kaz fought the urge to roll his eyes once more. He plucked it from her fingers, eyes following the curve of her grin.

 To the barmaid and the other patrons still picking at their sorry excuses for food, it merely looked as though the group of strange people were passing around a simple little book, chatting to and fro about a magnificent passage.

 Aleksa stole the book back, fingertips grazing Kaz's. She held it up once more and just as Matthias had said, there were four guards in their dull grey drab. Their chests were embellished with a little patch displaying a picture sewn to look like their sacred ash tree.

 Two were stationed on either side of the gatehouse, faces impassive and hands folded behind their backs like the perfect little blond soldiers they believed themselves to be. One of them was chatting with the driver of the prison wagon, who handed over a stack of documents... so Kaz did mean for them to become prisoners.

 "We're going to be prisoners, aren't we?" Aleksa hadn't yet torn her eyes from the sight.

 Kaz fought the urge to smile, he could always count on his Shadow to put the pieces of his puzzle together, sealing the edges with unmovable glue. He nodded, "Astute as ever."

 "Thank you, dear." Aleksa pulled away to grin for a moment, and then her eyes were back on the wagon as one of the guards moved to the heavy-set metal door. He unlocked it, and inside... each and every one of the prisoners were bound with heavy shackles, itchy bags stuffed over their heads.

 They were stuffed like sardines, and while Aleksa found she was rather content with the idea of being squished against her delightful little crows... What about Inej? What about Kaz? Inej would be just fine if she were beside the shadow; familiar with her smell and touch to the extent it brought comfort more than anything, but Kaz was a different story.

 He'd looked ready to vomit when she'd merely tapped his cheek.

 "Well," Aleksa sighed as she closed the book and laid it on the table, right beside her odd plate of tarnished bread, "Matthias will get to see me and Nina in chains, I bet you're thrilled."

"You aren't funny." Matthias snapped, but the rest of the table murmured their disagreements with his terribly off-kilter statement.

 Jesper grimaced as he moved about a strangely shaped lump floating in his bowl of watered-down soup, "Hooded, chained, and shackled? You're sure we can't go in as entertainers? I hear Wylan really kills it on the flute."

 "We go in as we are," said Kaz, "as criminals."

 Nine rose the book once more, delightful emerald-coloured eyes squinting through the lenses, "They're doing a head count."

 Matthias nodded. "If procedure hasn't changed, they'll do a quick head count at the first checkpoint, then a second count at the next checkpoint, where they'll search the interior and undercarriage for any contraband."

 Nina passed the book to Aleksa who, in turn, slipped it into Kaz's pocket. "The driver is going to notice seven more prisoners when he opens the door."

 Aleksa couldn't quite understand how so many of the people before her still underestimated Kaz Brekker. Did they really think that the boy who thought everything through at least seventeen times, wouldn't account for the fact that the numbers wouldn't add up right?

 Obviously they were going to replace some of the prisoners. It was their lucky day.

 "If only I'd thought of that," Kaz said drily. "I can tell you've never picked a pocket."

 "And I can tell you've never given enough thought to your haircut."

 Kaz frowned and ran a self-conscious hand along the side of his head. "There's nothing wrong with my haircut that can't be fixed by four million kruge."

 There wasn't anything to be fixed. His hair was the colour of oil spilt on one of Ketterdams old docks. It was always slicked back... and yet there seemed to be three little stands that refused to stay in their position. They dusted his forehead, the longest of them dusting his obscenely long eyelashes; it was actually quite unfair that he'd been blessed with them, and Aleksa had pouted about it more than a handful of times.

 She eyed the way it was shaven shorter at the sides, and when Kaz's eyes strayed to her, she offered a dazzling smile, "I quite like it, you look dashing."

 Kaz's fingers seemed to dig into his knee and he only realised when that little spark of pain increased tenfold. He flexed his hand, eyes swiftly cast to Jesper.

 The sharpshooter had brought up their delightful trick of using a bunk biscuit; exactly what Aleksa had known they'd use. Swapping one thing with something else so that the poor fool you were duping wouldn't realise until you were long gone. Aleksa had tried it a fair few times; she'd smother a man with delightful words, a woman with soft kisses... and while they were at her mercy, the jewellery in their pocket, their wallet or watch, would be swapped with something far less valuable that weighed the exact same. They'd never know until their hand pulled it free and realised a jagged rock was in their palms, rather than a bulky leather wallet.

 "Remember our friend, Mark?" Kaz glanced at Wylan who slouched in his chair, cheeks growing pink, "Let's say the mark is a tourist walking through the Barrel. He's heard it's a good place to get rolled, so he keeps patting his wallet, making sure it's there, congratulating himself on just how alert and cautious he's being. No fool he. Of course every time he pats his back pocket or the front of his coat, what is he doing? He's telling every thief on the Stave exactly where he keeps his scrub."

 "Saints," grumbled Nina. "I've probably done that."

 "Everyone does," said Inej.

 Jesper lifted a brow. "Not everyone."

 "That's only because you never have anything in your wallet," Nina shot back and Aleksa couldn't help the laugh that tumbled from her tongue.

 "Now, a bad thief," continued Kaz, "one who doesn't know his way around, just makes the grab and tries to run for it. Good way to get pinched by the stadwatch. But a proper thief – like myself – nabs the wallet and puts something else in its place."

 "A biscuit?" Wylan muttered.

 Aleksa shook her head at the boy, tossing a chunk of 'bread' at him, "It doesn't have to be a biscuit," she held up the blackened roll, weighing it in her hand, "If this abominable excuse for food weighed the same as your wallet, I'd beguile you, I'd whisper sweet nothings into your ear... and suddenly, your wallet would be in my hand while this," Aleksa tossed it, and it landed straight in the basket at the centre of the table, "Would be in your pocket. You wouldn't know until you tried to pay for a meal or a drink, and by that point... I'd be on my merry little way."

 Jesper pointed his fork at her, "You are suspiciously good at that."

 "Men are idiots."

 "Rude."

 "But true."

 Jesper couldn't argue with that.

 Kaz could recall the first time she'd done it. Aleksa had strolled into his office and tossed a ring before him. She had, of course, draped herself over his chair, a stray smile on her features as she promised it wasn't a proposal. Kaz had taken it into his bare fingers, watching as the sapphire glistened. He'd tapped it on the table, and not a dent was to be seen.

 She'd handed it over so that it could be sold, so that the kruge gained could be put towards Inej's indenture.

 Kaz hummed, "A proper thief can tell the weight of a wallet just by the way it changes the hang of a man's coat."

 But dear Wylan didn't seem all too pleased with their explanation. He grumbled, arms folded, "Duping innocent people isn't something to be proud of."

 He was sweet, really, to think that Ketterdam or Fjerda housed a single decent human being. Ketterdam was merely a colony of wasps, each with a stinger so sharp it could kill a man. They were all draped with knives and sticky fingers, all willing to take and take and take. Fjerda wasn't much better, for while Ketterdams fog-laden sky and blood-soaked streets made people aware that the place wasn't good... Fjdera put up a shield. It draped itself in a facade of pure and innocent white, of glimmering silver... but they were just as bad.

 Their snow may have been white and crystal clear to the eye, but they'd all seen first-hand that hidden amongst the mountains were pyres for the innocent. Blood-infested earth rested beneath the stark blanket. While Ketterdam was honest about the awful cockroaches writhing along its surfaces, Fjerda kept their horrors behind closed doors — out of sight, out of mind.

 Wylan blinked as Aleksa rolled her eyes and gestured to him with a delicate wave of her fickle fingers, "Tell me the name of one innocent person in Ketterdam."

 Silence.

 "Go on, just one name."

 Nothing.

 "Exactly," Aleksa shrugged, "Look at us, we're all thieves — even you now, Wylan. Every single merchant in Ketterdam is as slimy as they come, every little pigeon would steal from their best friends if it meant another hour at the tables."

 "Very philosophical," Kaz drawled, though he'd said the very same thing once before. Inej had been unwilling to get her hands dirty in the slightest... and so he'd taken her to the 'nicest' part of the Barrel. Even there, every man was just a rat or vulture dressed in silks and gold. There were no good men in Ketterdam, but at least they could admit that, "We're going to be the biscuit."

 Back on topic as swiftly as ever.

 "Hold on," said Nina, still trying her hardest to think of a name herself. She had met kind people in Ketterdam... but Aleksa was kind, Inej was kind, and so was Jesper, but that didn't mean they were good or innocent. Hell, Aleksa had fought a war against her own blood... and she wasn't 'good', "The door locks on the outside. How do we get in and get the door locked again?"

 "That's only a problem if you don't know a proper thief. Leave the locks to me."

 Aleksa knew that up his sleeves would be his little lock-picking set... as well as the other three he kept on him at all times. Kaz had said once that when people searched you... for some strange reason, they always seemed to stop at three. 

 The locks would be nothing to Kaz, but Aleksa still couldn't help but wonder how he'd fair being chained, shackled and pressed against multiple bodies.

 Jesper stretched out his long legs, twig-like fingers drumming against the table. A woman from a few tables down scowled at him as she ate her overcooked fish. "So we have to unlock, unchain, and incapacitate six prisoners, take their places, and somehow get the wagon sealed tight again without the guards or the other prisoners being the wiser?"

 "That's right."

 "Any other impossible feats you'd like us to accomplish?"

 "I'll make you a list." the barest smile flickered over Kaz's lips, and Aleksa decided that she really could smack him for being so damn pretty. 

━━━━━━━

DATE: 05-09-2024

:･ﾟ★ well i certainly didn't plan on a 7k chapter... BUT i just couldn't stop myself from all the little kaleksa moments. HELLO, THE TOUCHING HIS CHEEK? whew. <3

another bigger gap between chapters; I've had TWO more people plagiarising this story; apparently copying my character to a T, her plot, as well as the plot changes I've made to shadow and bone/six of crows is absolutely fine as long as they change the OC name from Aleksa to something different! anyway, the stories have been taken down and dealt with privately, so no need to worry <3

i require a certain number of comments before i publish the next update. do not leave 'update' comments, you will be muted.