Six of Crows (Six of Crows #1)(30)

Nina never could figure out how Inej had managed to scale six rain-slick storeys of stone in the middle of the night, but the Dregs’ terms were far more favourable than those offered by Pekka and the Dime Lions. It was a contract that she might actually pay off in a year or two if she was smart with her money. And Kaz had sent the right person to argue his case – a Suli girl just a few months younger than Nina who had grown up in Ravka and who had spent a very ugly year indentured at the Menagerie.

“What can you tell me about Per Haskell?” Nina had asked that night.

“Not much,” Inej had admitted. “He’s no better or worse than most of the bosses in the Barrel.”

“And Kaz Brekker?”

“A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he’ll keep to any deal you strike with him.”

Nina had heard the conviction in her voice. “He freed you from the Menagerie?”

“There is no freedom in the Barrel, only good terms. Tante Heleen’s girls never earn out of their contracts. She makes sure they don’t. She—” Inej had broken off then, and Nina had sensed the vibrant anger coursing through her. “Kaz convinced Per Haskell to pay off my indenture. I would have died at the Menagerie.”

“You may still die in the Dregs.”

Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. “I may. But I’ll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”

The next morning, Inej had helped Nina sneak out of the Emerald Palace. They’d met with Kaz Brekker, and despite his cold ways and those strange leather gloves, she’d agreed to join the Dregs and work out of the White Rose. Less than two days later, a girl died at the Sweet Shop, strangled in her bed by a customer dressed as Mister Crimson who was never found.

Nina had trusted Inej, and she hadn’t been sorry for it, though right now she just felt furious with everyone. She watched a group of Dime Lions prod the desert lizard with long spears. Apparently, the monster was sated after its meal; it allowed itself to be herded back to the tunnel, its thick body moving side to side in a lazy, sinuous roll.

The crowd continued to boo as guards entered the arena to remove the prisoner ’s remains, tendrils of smoke still curling from his ruined flesh.

“Why are they complaining?” Nina asked angrily. “Isn’t this what they came here for?”

“They wanted a fight,” said Kaz. “They were expecting him to last longer.”

“This is disgusting.”

Kaz shrugged. “Only disgusting thing about it is that I didn’t think of it first.”

“These men aren’t slaves, Kaz. They’re prisoners.”

“They’re murderers and rapists.”

“And thieves and con artists. Your people.”

“Nina, sweet, they aren’t forced to fight. They line up for the chance. They earn better food, private cells, liquor, jurda, conjugals with girls from West Stave.”

Muzzen cracked his knuckles. “Sounds better than we got it at the Slat.”

Nina looked at the people screaming and shouting, the barkers walking the aisles taking bets. The prisoners of Hellgate might line up to fight, but Pekka Rollins made the real money.

“Helvar doesn’t … Helvar doesn’t fight in the arena, does he?”

“We aren’t here for the ambience,” Kaz said.

Beyond slappable. “Are you aware that I could waggle my fingers and make you wet your trousers?”

“Easy, Heartrender. I like these trousers. And if you start messing with my vital organs, Matthias Helvar will never see sunshine again.”

Nina blew out a breath and settled for glowering at no one.

“Nina—” Inej murmured.

“Don’t you start on me.”

“It will all work out. Let Kaz do what he does best.”

“He’s horrible.”

“But effective. Being angry at Kaz for being ruthless is like being angry at a stove for being hot.

You know what he is.”

Nina crossed her arms. “I’m mad at you, too.”

“Me? Why?”

“I don’t know yet. I just am.”

Inej gave Nina’s hand a brief squeeze, and after a moment, Nina squeezed back. She sat through the next fight in a daze, and the next. She told herself she was ready for this – to see him again, to see him here in this brutal place. After all, she was a Grisha and a soldier of the Second Army. She’d seen worse.

But when Matthias emerged from the mouth of the cave below, she knew she’d been wrong. Nina

recognised him instantly. Every night of the past year, she had fallen asleep thinking of Matthias’ face.

There was no mistaking the gilded brows, the sharp cut of his cheekbones. But Kaz hadn’t lied: Matthias was much changed. The boy who looked back at the crowd with fury in his eyes was a stranger.

Nina remembered the first time she’d seen Matthias in a moonlit Kaelish wood. His beauty had seemed unfair to her. In another life, she might have believed he was coming to rescue her, a shining saviour with golden hair and eyes the pale blue of northern glaciers. But she’d known the truth of him by the language he spoke, and by the disgust on his face every time his eyes lighted on her. Matthias Helvar was a drüskelle, one of the Fjerdan witchhunters tasked with hunting down Grisha to face trial and execution, though to her he’d always resembled a warrior Saint, illuminated in gold.