Stars ― Kaz Brekker

07. death's hands are cruel

ESTERA ISN'T SURE WHO WILL KILL WHO FIRST—Nina or Matthias.

(She hopes it's Nina who will kill Matthias. One less drüskelle in the world.)

"I've had enough of your judgments, Nina," Matthias says sharply. "This has to stop."

Judgments are far kinder than murder.

(Death's hands are cruel, but it is the abandonment of friends that kills a man's spirits. Let my heart cease to beat before I watch my brother walk away from me, lest I suffer in life as I suffer in death.)

"He's right," Jesper says, crossing his arms over his chest. "You can't go on this way."

"Stay out of this," Nina snaps.

"If you two keep fighting, you're going to get us all killed, and I have a lot more card games I need to lose."

"You must find a way to make peace," says Inej. "At least for a while."

"You can't make peace with a drüskelle," Estera mutters. "They don't know the meaning of the word."

Matthias whirls on her. "What is your gripe with drüskelle?" he demands.

"I'm a Grisha, remember?" she snarls back.

"That's not it," Matthias says. "It's personal."

"What's more personal than your brothers murdering innocents?"

"Those innocents murdered my family," Matthias snarls.

"And your brothers killed mine."

The words have the effect of a flash grenade—silent but debilitating. Nina's fury is tainted with confusion; Wylan and Jesper look at Estera, concern and questions in their eyes; Inej moves closer, expression soft with worry.

Estera doesn't have to look to know Kaz is watching her, wondering what she means. He knows her parents are alive, living their blissfully ignorant lives back in their little village, far from the war, far from death.

(We'll be each other's family, her ghost had whispered.)

She clenches her hands into fists, so hard her fingernails draw blood in her palms. "It doesn't matter," she says. "No drüskelle will ever make peace with a Grisha. It's not in their nature. Nina's well aware of that."

Matthias throws up his hands. "You've all been taken in by her. This is what she does. She makes you think she's your friend and then—"

Inej crosses her arms. "Then what?"

"Let it go, Inej," Nina whispers. Her fury's melted like snow on skin, dripping back to the grass.

"No, Nina," Matthias says. "Tell them. You said you were my friend once. Do you remember?" He turns to the rest of them. "We travelled together for three weeks. I saved her life. We saved each other. When we got to Elling, we... I could have revealed her to the soldiers we saw there at any time. But I didn't."

He starts pacing, his voice rising, as if the memories are getting the better of him. "I borrowed money. I arranged lodging. I was willing to betray everything I believed in for the sake of her safety. When I saw her down to the docks so we could try to book passage, there was a Kerch trader there, ready to set sail. Ask her what she did then, this honorable ally, this girl who stands in judgement of me and my kind."

No one speaks, but they are watching—waiting.

"Tell them, Nina," he demands. "They should know how you treat your friends."