•• ••●•• ••

and that is how Lianna knew the convict who entered the arena was the very person they came for. Never before had she witnessed the Heartrender's face wear a look of such defeat. It was as if Nina saw her entire world collapse and swallow itself, leaving nothing behind when the boy emerged from the black hole-like tunnel. Kaz affirmed them the boy was there by his own desire – the way his eyes resembled two lighting bolts, striking hatred-driven electricity towards the roaring crowd led Lianna to believe otherwise.

The boy was high in stature and muscular – his bare, broad shoulders towering over the man dressed in the lion cape, tiny in comparison – like a sheep standing a stone's throw from a lion, but his skin was paler than bleached wood and hair shaved unevenly. He simultaneously seemed to dread every second spent in the arena ready to fight no matter what the enemy ended up being, beaming with fury but calmed by his gods. It was possible sometime ago, a lifetime away, in his past inarnation he was trained; as a soldier, a heathen barbarian, a warrior.

"Nina," Lianna found herself asking. "Is he a..."

"Drüskelle." Nina answered, eyes glued to the arena. "His name was Matthias."

Was, she said. As if she couldn't recognize the boy looking up from below. How could she ever had known a drüskelle, Lianna questioned more than why she did so no longer. His people devoted their lives to hunting and killing Grisha, those like them both – innocents, children or criminals, Fjerdans considered an abomination.

Kaz had called him Helvar before, she remembered, that must be his surname. Helvar. Matthias Helvar, the Grisha slayer.

He glared at the crowd and gave the wheel a hard spin that nearly made the construction fall over, onto the blood-soaked sand. The wheel ticked along until lastly it came to a stop.

"No," Nina protested.

Wolves. Fjerda's sacred animals. Drüskelles' most loyal companions. Killing them was severely punished; killing Grisha, encouraged.

This is what you deserve, Matthias Helvar. If there is any justice left in this world, now is its manifestation.

"It could be worse," said Muzzen. "Could have landed on the desert lizard again."

"You have to stop this," Nina begged, grabbing Kaz's arm.

"Let go of me, Nina."

"Please, you don't understand. He—"

"If he survives, I'll take Matthias Helvar out of this place tonight, but this part is up to him."

Nina gave a frustrated shake of her head. "You don't get it."

Even back in their days in the Little Palace, Nina had always adored learning about various cultures – the languages, the legends, the religions, the rulers. But Fjerda had been her special interest, moreso. Not because she admired the people. Because she wished to be the one who would defeat them.

Lianna did not know what had happened to that girl, but the one by her side was not Nina Zenik of the Little Palace. Not thoroughly. She had her auburn hair, her emerald eyes and her ravishing smile, but something had changed, drastically and once and for all.

The guard unbolted the shackles bonding Matthias' wrists, and returned to the auditorium. Matthias stood silent despite the raging crowd shouting at him, unmoving, even when the gate opened, even when the wolves charged out of the tunnel – three of them snarling and snapping, tumbling over one another to get to him. At the last second, Matthias dropped into a crouch, knocking the first wolf into the dirt, then rolling right to pick up the bloodied knife the previous combatant had left in the sand. He sprang to his feet, blade held out before him. Obviously hesitating.

Good, she thought. Suffer by murdering or be murdered yourself.

The wolf on the right lunged. Matthias crouched low and spun, lodging his knife in the wolf's side, causing it to let out a miserable yelp. Another wolf was on him in seconds, knocking the boy to the sand. Its teeth sank into his shoulder. The wolf's jaws snapped, and Matthias caught them. He wrenched them apart, the muscles of his arms flexing, his face grim, until a sickening crack was heard. The crowd roared, satisfied with Matthias' skills and cruelty. He kneeled over the wolf. Its jaw was broken, and it lay on the ground shuddering. He reached for a rock and slammed it hard into the animal's skull. The wolf went still and Matthias' shoulders slumped. The people howled, stomping their feet. The first wolf had recovered and was circling. Matthias got to his feet, but his movements were slow, hesitant, face eclipsed by guilt. He had no knife, only the bloody rock in his hand, and the remaining wolf prowled the arena between him and the pile of weapons. The wolf lowered its head and bared its teeth. Matthias dove left. The wolf lunged, sinking its teeth into his side. He grunted, and hit the ground hard. Then he reached out, his fingers closed over the shackles that had bound his wrists. He seized them, looped the chain across the wolf's throat, and pulled, the veins in his neck cording from the strain. The wolf's hind legs scrabbled at the sand. Its eyes rolled, frightened whites showing bright against its matted fur. A high whine rose from its chest. And then it was over. The creature's body stilled. Matthias kept his eyes closed, his face buried in the creature's fur.

The crowd screamed and stomped in approval, but when the announcer came down to lift Matthias' arm as a sign of his victory, the boy looked up; his cheeks were tear-stained, face devoid of any emotion. Blank. The man dressed in the lion's skin put the heavy shackles back on Matthias' slump arms and the boy was led back into the tunnel, accompanied by the crowd's disapproving screaming. That was what they came for, after all, and no one would have minded a repetition.

"Where are they taking him?" Nina asked, voice trembling.

"To a cell to sleep off the fight," Kaz said.

"Who will see to his injuries?"

"They have mediks. We'll wait to make sure he's alone."

They watched another fight – this time, it was a man from Shu Han, twenty or so. Lost against a boar twice his size. The animal left parts of his corpse on the arena, blood sank into the ground before somebody arrived to take away the lifeless body.

"Ready, Nina? The guard first," Kaz murmured at last.

"How down?"

"Shut eye."

Lianna could only speculate it meant something along knock him out gently.

They followed Kaz to the arch through which they'd entered, unnoticed by the crowd – another prisoner was already spinning the wheel.

"Need your escort?" the guard asked as they approached.

"I had a question," said Kaz, head tilted. "About your mother and whether the rumours are true."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Never can make it easy, can you, Kaz?" said Nina. The guard's pulse must have jumped up at Kaz's question, making her job more difficult than necessary.

The man stepped forward, lifting his gun. "What did you say? I— You don't—"

Nina was quicker, and he toppled forward before finishing. Muzzen grabbed him so he would not fall as Inej swept him into the orange cloak Kaz had been wearing.

Seeing that Kaz had a prison guard's uniform beneath his costume all along, Lianna only let out a sigh. There was no way to outsmart him, it seemed, but with each of his carefully thought-out moves, she only wanted to do so even more. "I see you've come prepared."

"Couldn't you have just asked him the time or something?" Nina said. "And where did you get that uniform?"

Inej slid the Madman's mask down over the guard's face, and Muzzen deposited him on one of the benches pressed against the brick wall.

Kaz tugged on the sleeves of his uniform. "People love to give up authority to men in nice clothes. I have uniforms for the stadwatch, the harbour police, and the livery of every merch mansion on the Geldstraat." He turned towards Lianna. "Andersen."

"Brekker."

"We're going to Helvar's cell now, but I need you somewhere else."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're boldly assuming I won't get lost in this tower if I hive off."

He adjusted the shirt's collar. "I believe in you." That didn't sound sincere. "You just have to go all the way down the stairs and then turn right around the corner, yeah? One of my people will be waiting there."

"What am I supposed to accomplish?"

He smirked. "Create chaos. You'll be fine. Let's go."

Instead of coming back the way they entered, Kaz led them counterclockwise through a corridor around the old tower. Thanks to either Kaz's uniform or his overall way of behaving as if he belonged, the guards didn't question their presence. They reached a door, and Kaz opened it without hesitation to reveal a dark, aged stairway. He tapped Lianna's shoulder, merely gestured towards the downhill steps and pushed her forward before moving on with the rest. Nina stopped for a second to give Lianna's hand a comforting squeeze, before she, too, followed Kaz.

Lianna carefully stepped over the high doorsill and closed the heavy, wooden door behind her, increasing the darkness drastically. Great, she thought. I never should have gotten involved with Kaz Brekker, if every day of the Ice Court job is going to look like this. Since there were no windows through which moonlight illuminate her way, the only sources of light were the torches suspended on the walls. The air was damp and smelled of dry blood, causing the girl do let out a series of coughs as she ran downwards, her steps echoing loudly against the granite walls. The stairway was build in a spiral and she kept going down, down, down for so long she thought it would continue forever.

When Lianna finally reached the end, she nearly slammed into the door because of the momentum. This one wasn't wooden, but made of steel, making opening to be much harder than the previous. She pushed on it with her entire body, until suddenly all resistance ceased and the handle slipped from under her fingers, which send her stumbling once again. She barely caught her balance before falling into somebody's chest.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I got lost searching for the arena—" she began, ready to run from the prison guard whenever.

"Searching for the arena, you say?" An amused voice interrupted. That's when she realized the person in front of her wasn't dressed in a uniform similar to Kaz's, but rather bright, colourful shirt and simple, black trousers. Two pearl-handled revolvers were attachet to his belt. "Perhaps I can join you, so we can search for a more private place?"

She quickly jumped back a step and looked up. Or rather, raised her head quite a lot, since the boy standing in front of her was at least a foot taller – even more so than Kaz or Nina. Judging by his complexion, he was a Zemeni, skin rather dark and wavy hair almost the shade of bittersweet chocolate. A smile on his lips and a mischievious glimmer in his eyes made it clear he found her reaction incredibly entertaining.

"Do you work for Kaz Brekker?" she asked, not sure what else to say.

The boy clicked his tounge. "That's what he told you? Unbelievable." He took a step backwards, motioning for her to move so he could close the door. "I work with Kaz Brekker, not for Kaz Brekker. Jesper Fahey, at your service. Call me whatever you want, though." He winked, moving down the corridor. "And, you know, no need to be scared of me."

She huffed, walking along. "Don't worry, I won't."

"You seemed pretty frightened just a minute ago."

"Only because Kaz had told me you were going to wait further down the hall." She struggled to keep up with his pace. "I didn't expect you to jump out of nowhere."

He looked at her, eyebrow raised and smirking. "To be fair, I didn't expect someone as pretty as you, either." Jesper motioned for them to stop before he looked over the corner, hand resting on one of his guns. "You're the wind maker, right?" he asked teasingly, moving forwards. "The breezy girl?"

"Don't you dare call me that ever again. My name is Lianna," she said with a frown. Jesper laughed. "I am the Squaller, though."

She couldn't remember the last time she said that out loud.

Jasper glanced at her briefly and went back to observing what was ahead of them. "Ravka?"

"Yeah," she answered. "Why?"

Jesper shrugged. "You kind of look like you could be from Shu Han."

She got asked that a lot ever since moving to Ketterdam, and surprisingly so – that city was full of people from all over the world. In a way, Kerch shouldn't be all that strange to her – that's where her parents originally lived, long before she was born. Her father's parents (or grandparents, or one of them, Lianna couldn't recall), were of Shu descent, but he was born in Kerch into a wealthy household – the Andersens. Her mother, on the other hand, was a Grisha born in Ravka, who, along many others, came to Kerch looking for luck and fortune. They met, fell in love and eventually decided to start a family together. Shortly after her father lost a large sum of money, his parents died, and after, he decided to return to Ravka with Lianna's mother. The connections her father made back in Kerch allowed him to find Thomas Ford later on, as the civil war began, however. Her mother stayed back to fight, her father with her, but Lianna was send off to Kerch. And they never saw each other again.

She didn't miss them really – over the course of the years, the Little Palace became her real home. Many Grisha studied there, of all backgrounds and ethnicities, so she didn't feel – particularly strange back there. Although, to be frank, everything was strange in Ketterdam.

Lianna's onyx hair and her face structure were the only hints at her Shu ancestry, but they were noticable enough. Her azure eyes, however – those were her mother's. She looked at Jesper, his bronze skin and dark hair straight from Novyi Zem, but his starry eyes reminded Lianna of the sky on a rainy day, or liquid silver, if the fire of the torches illuminated them in a certain way. Zemeni people didn't have eyes that light. Maybe that was why he had asked.

They walked through a heavy wooden door, which creaked loudly both when opened and closed, and walked into another corridor. This one had windows and starlight was illuminating Jesper's dark skin as they walked ahead.

"My father's ancestors were Shu," she said finally. "But my mother is Ravkan, and that's where I was born."

"Makes sense," he admitted. She saw he wanted to say something more, but he stopped abruptly, outstretching his arm to pin Lianna to the wall next to him.

Her back hit the hard surface. "What the—"

"Be quiet." He withdrew his arm and laid it on one of his pistols.

That's when Lianna heard them – the voices, getting closer towards them. Prison guards, at least three, were coming their way. Jesper lifted a finger up to his mouth and pushed her gently, deeper into the sunless, shadowy hall. They had nowhere to go if they didn't wish to be noticed. There was no doubt the guards would hear the creak of the door being opened. If the sentries turn left, they'll open the way for Jesper and Lianna. If they turn right, they'll walk directly into them.

And what next? she thought, as Jesper backed her another couple of steps, one of his hands resting on the gun handle. It felt like he was actually eager to start shooting. Would he run away and leave me here? Should I do it first?

No, she thought immedietly. Stop trying to back off now, after you've already made the choice. If worse comes to worst, use your powers. She was tired of her own overanalyzing tendencies. Agreeing to join Brekker's heist was a heisty decision, but her own nonetheless. And she'd long since learned all actions have consequences.

The guards were approaching as Jesper and Lianna stayed hidden in the shadows. If Lianna still prayed to gods or saints, she would have started right then. One glance their way and it would all be over before it would have actually began, the moon's silver rays bright enough to outline their silhouettes. Shallow breaths escaped their lungs as the teenagers listened carefully.

"Wanna go see the show?" Were the first audible words.

Lianna's heart skipped a quick beat – if they decided to do so, there was no way she and Jesper would outrun them now. The boy aimed at where the guards would come out.

"I've got some whisky left in the storage room," said another voice. "Let's grab it before going to the arena."

A salvo of laughter was heard as three people with rifles in their hands finally emerged from behind the corner... only to continue going in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, one of them stopped. For a single, frightening second, Lianna felt like she was going to faint. Jesper's finger fiddled on the trigger of his pistol, but he waited, observing. She couldn't comperhend how he could remain so calm in such a situation – if it wasn't for Jesper, she would have lost it already. The sentry lowered his gun and sneezed loudly, which erupted another wave of snickering from his colleagues.

"What's so fucking funny?" he yelled, catching up with the rest, as they vanished in the hall's turn.

Lianna and Jesper didn't dare to move for another moment; the girl eventually let out a breath, only then realizing she had been holding it. Jesper, on the other hand, laughed, which made her believe he was somewhat unwell in the head. She looked up at him, only to see a wide smile on the boy's face, little flames of adrenaline shining in his eyes. If Kaz Brekker's jurda was feeling intelectually superior, Jesper Fahey's was epinephrine running through his veins.

"Stop laughing, they could still hear us."

"That was our first near death experience," he joked, as they continued walking. "How do you feel?"

Lianna blinked slowly. "That wasn't a near death experience."

Jesper shrugged, still smiling. "Depends how you look on it. Their guns looked pretty real to me."

Lianna glanced sideways, noticing Jesper didn't put back his pistol. He was no longer aiming ahead, but it was still clutched in his hand.

"Would you have shot them?"

"That's what I'm here for," he answered matter-of-factly. When she didn't respond, he added: "It's not like I would have shot you."