Six of Crows (Six of Crows #1)(69)

“Just give me the key.”

Nina cleared her throat. “He also wants me to tailor you.”

“What? Why?” The thought of Nina altering his appearance with her witchcraft was intolerable.

“We’re in Fjerda now. He wants you looking a little less … like yourself, just in case.”

“Do you know how big this country is? The chance that—”

“The odds of you being recognised will be considerably higher at the Ice Court, and I can’t make changes to your appearance all at once.”

“Why?”

“I’m not that good a Tailor. It’s part of all Corporalki training now, but I just don’t have an affinity for it.”

Matthias snorted.

“What?” she asked.

“I’ve never heard you admit you’re not good at something.”

“Well, it happens so rarely.”

He was horrified to find his lips curling in a smile, but it was easy enough to quell when he thought of his face being changed. “What does Brekker want you to do to me?”

“Nothing radical. I’ll change your eye colour, your hair – what you have of it. It won’t be permanent.”

“I don’t want this.” I don’t want you near me.

“It won’t take long, and it will be painless, but if you want to argue about it with Kaz …”

“Fine,” he said, steeling himself. It was pointless to argue with Brekker, not when he could simply taunt Matthias with the promise of the pardon. Matthias picked up a bucket, flipped it over, and sat down. “Can I have the key now?”

She handed it over to him and he unshackled his wristsas she rooted around in a box she’d brought over. It had a handle and several little drawers stuffed with powders and pigments in tiny jars. She extracted a pot of something black from a drawer.

“What is it?”

“Black antimony.” She stepped close to him, tilting his chin back with the tip of her finger.

“Unclench your jaw, Matthias. You’re going to grind your teeth down to nothing.”

He crossed his arms.

She started shaking some of the antimony over his scalp and gave a rueful sigh. “Why does the brave drüskelle Matthias Helvar eat no meat?” she asked in a theatrical voice as she worked. “’Tis a sad story indeed, my child. His teeth were winnowed away by a vexatious Grisha, and now he can eat only pudding.”

“Stop that,” he grumbled.

“What? Keep your head tilted back.”

“What are you doing?”

“Darkening your brows and lashes. You know, the way girls do before a party.” He must have grimaced because she burst out laughing. “The look on your face!”

She leaned in, the waves of her brown hair brushing against his cheeks as she bled the colour from the antimony into his brows. Her hand cupped his cheek.

“Shut your eyes,” she murmured. Her thumbs moved over his lashes, and he realised he was holding his breath.

“You don’t smell like roses any more,” he said, then wanted to kick himself. He shouldn’t be noticing her scent.

“I probably smell like boat.”

No, she smelled sweet, perfect like … “Toffee?”

Her eyes slid away guiltily. “Kaz said to pack what we needed for the journey. A girl has to eat.”

She reached into her pocket and drew out a bag of toffees. “Want one?”

Yes.  “No.”

She shrugged and popped one in her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she sighed happily. “So good.”

It was a humiliating epiphany, but he knew he could have watched her eat all day. This was one of the things he’d liked best about Nina – she savoured everything, whether it was a toffee or cold water from a stream or dried reindeer meat.

“Eyes now,” she said around the candy as she pulled a tiny bottle from her case. “You’ll have to keep them open.”

“What is that?” he asked nervously.

“A tincture developed by a Grisha named Genya Safin. It’s the safest way to change eye colour.”



Again she leaned in. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, her mouth slightly open. Her lips were bare inches from his. If he sat up straighter, they’d be kissing.

“You have to look at me,” she instructed.

I am.  He shifted his gaze to hers. Do you remember this shore, Nina?  he wanted to ask, though he knew she must.

“What colour are you making my eyes?”

“Shhh. This is difficult.” She dabbed the drops onto her fingers and held them close to his eyes.

“Why can’t you just put them in?”

“Why can’t you stop talking? Do you want me to blind you?”

He stopped talking.

Finally, she drew back, gaze roving over his features. “Brownish,” she said. Then she winked.

“Like toffee.”

“What do you intend to do about Bo Yul-Bayur?”

She straightened and stepped away, her expression shuttering. “What do you mean?”

He was sorry to see her easy manner go, but that didn’t matter. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “You know exactly what I mean. I don’t believe for a second you’ll let these people hand Bo Yul-Bayur over to the Kerch Merchant Council.”