ESTERA IS NOT A SQUEAMISH PERSON—two years in Ketterdam has assured that. But seeing Inej fighting for her life in the cramped surgeon's cabin belowdecks fills her with an uneasiness she loathes.
Nina doesn't notice has as Estera comes to a stop in the doorway, as evidenced by the Heartrender's muttered, "You were right, Zoya. Happy now?"
"If Zoya Nazyalensky is on this ship, I'll be going overboard and swimming back to Ketterdam," Estera says.
Nina starts and looks up to see her. "You knew Zoya?"
Estera shrugs. "Kind of," she says. "My Squaller classmates thought she was a goddess. I was always a little too scared of her to think the same."
A tiny smile emerges on Nina's tired face. "Smart of you," she murmurs. She looks at Estera, a look of faint curiosity in her eyes. "How old were you when you ran away from the Little Palace?"
Estera picks at the sleeve of her shirt, only half-buttoned to accommodate for her wrist splint. "Fourteen," she answers quietly. "We ran before the First Army seized it."
"'We'?" Nina asks.
Estera's throat feels like a collapsing tunnel. Starry-eyed Ster.
"How is she?" she asks instead of answering, nodding at Inej.
"Breathing," Nina says quietly. She doesn't protest the subject change, though her shoulders slump as she returns her focus to Inej's slowly rising chest. "Barely."
"She's a fighter," Estera says. "More than any of us. She'll pull through." Saints, let her pull through.
"What happened to your arm?"
Estera looks down—she hadn't realized she'd been cradling it to her chest once more.
"The Ophoff twins," she explains. "I'll be fine."
"I can take a look at it," Nina offers.
Estera shakes her head. She doesn't deserve to be taken care of—not now, not ever. "Just... take care of Inej. I'll be fine."
She disappears back down the hallway before Nina can protest.
✯
She allows herself a few hours of restless sleep before returning to the deck, skin and clothes clean of the sweat and blood she's been carrying since the attack on the docks. When she sees that someone had brewed coffee, she brings Nina a cup, but doesn't linger to make small talk.
Her ghost seems to love the sea-air, if her everlasting presence is any indication.
Starry-eyed Ster, she whispers. Tell me about Kerch.
Stop, Estera silently pleads. Please, stop.
She never does. Estera isn't sure she can.
The boys (including the seasick Fjerdan) are gathered on the forecastle deck to examine the plans of the Ice Court away from the eyes and ears of the ship's crew. Estera joins them, watching in silence as she summons another gust of wind, filling the sails in the still morning.
"Why aren't there names on anything?" Kaz asks, gesturing at the plans.
"I don't know Fjerdan, and we need the details right," Wylan says. "Helvar should do it." He draws back when he sees Matthias's expression.
"Drop the glower, druskelle," Estera snaps, waving a blast of sharp cold wind into the blond's face. "He's only doing his job."
His glower only deepens. "Watch it, witch."
YOU ARE READING
Stars ― Kaz Brekker
Fanfiction[SLOW UPDATES] 𝘪 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴 ， 𝘪 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴， 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵，𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰�...
