𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ━━ Kaz Brekker

𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈.

CHAPTER XIII.
my demons cry,
in the darkest hour

If this was what a four million kruge heist entailed, Kaz could shove it.

The money was all the reason she took this job. Jurda parem was a deadly drug for Grishas, sure, but who was Leia to speak about honour or morals? She'd never want to be a hero. Besides, Nina had enough to shoulder them both—even in their next lives.

Though Leia was beginning to hope that her association with Nina would rub some good karma on her. Let some mercy befall onto her. Maybe, just maybe, all these dead Saints would stop using her as entertainment.

This was like all the times when Mariam's bakery floated into her dreams in Hellgate. The only difference was the sour taste watching Pekka Rollins dangled like a bait before her eyes, again—a repeat of Hellgate. Surely if the Darkling was worthy of a cult, she must be qualified. After all, staring at Pekka's ugly face in Hellgate for one year straight was reason enough to crown her. He looked like a boiled duck.

She had long mastered the art of Pekka's body language. From his slacked jaw, Leia knew exactly which card he wanted to play. So she sat on the bare cement floor of her cell, waiting. Her shallow grave was just barely large enough to stretch her legs, but it was clean. Apparently the prisoners here wouldn't live long enough to dirty it.

Cue Rollins' big mouth. "Do you know who this darling girl is?"

Silence. His grand entrance flopped. The Amplifier and her two lapdogs paid no mind, busy exchanging whispers among themselves.

"Oi!" Pekka's yell prompted Erik, the younger guard to spin around, vexed. Irritation seeped under his skin and shone through his sharp eyes, luring the thought of a friendly snake to Leia's mind. "I have information for you, precious information that the Fjerdan king would be thrilled to know."

"The king is not in the business of granting prisoners an audience," Scarface ridiculed.

Pekka cackled, "I have a weapon to win him a war, to conquer a country. I have heard many things about the king—each worse than the last—I only hope he is indeed not an idiot." A smug smirk appeared, "Or bring Jarl Brum!"

With a simple wave, the Amplifier's action seemed to have freed Erik from whatever pretence he masked. Bayonet in hand, he stalked closer to Pekka—who definitely was undermining the young soldier with his judgmental gaze. Erik's tall and muscular build totally blocked Leia's vision, but the sound of clashing metal and Pekka's groan was clear.

"An idiot will be you, who speaks ill of the king you are tried under." He held Pekka by the neck, words dripping venom. His warm composure dissolved, the shedding of a polite boy's skin. "He will have your tongue."

Pekka choked for air, face squashed against the small iron grate opening. Gasping, he tried swatted Erik away, but didn't yield. "Not when I deliver the Maiden of Myth to him!"

Pekka released a loud gasp. It seemed the feelings of doubt and shock were beginning to manifest now. Her heart thumped, hands trembled, but Leia only continued to examine the walls of her cell. Every cell was a treasure trove, a year in Hellgate taught her much. Once, she found a book stuffed in a tight makeshift hole. To think she was excited at the prospect of new entertainment, it turned out to be a lewd novel that fantasied about hurting women.

"Surely you're not keeping the Maiden of Myth in your pocket?" The old Grisha cocked her head, patronising. Leia picked on the weird crust of dirt on the wall, frowning when it stained her fingers.

"Leia Valentine is right here."

Just as everyone turned to her, Leia pocketed a small piece of paper in her fist. Her new Fjerdan friends wore silent surprise on their faces, eyebrows shot upwards. The Darkling imposter... Her cell made it possible to sneak just a tiny peek at him. For who he worshipped, he did not seem bothered. Not one bit. Regal air rolled off his shoulders, truly a good imitator of Aleksander Morozova. Pekka still wore that haughty expression. One where he associated victory with pouting.