𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒-Kaz Brekker

𝐈.

𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑: 𝐈.

In a dark corner of a tavern in the very heart of the Barrel, a lone Grisha sits at a table. A deep green cloak hangs over her shoulders like a heavy embrace, bearing down on her. She should be wearing the crimson kefta she received when she stayed at the Little Palace, but she threw that into the harbor the first chance she got. She wonders if it's still there, sinking further into the dark water, a blood-colored flower blossoming beneath the riptide.

Keep your head down, that pestering little voice inside her head chides her constantly. Don't. Draw. Attention.

It's hard. She's antsy. Anxious. On edge, her head spinning with a hundred million thoughts.

She can hear the thundering heartbeats of the men that surround her. It's maddening. She wants to stop their hearts, every single one of them, and savor in the silence. She wants it to be quiet.

The world is loud and terrible and she hates it.

Raisa Novikov hates noise. Perhaps it stems from a childhood spent in a tiny orphanage in Keramzin. She grew used to fighting boys twice her size who decided that because she was small, because she was different, she was worthless. Laughing as they pulled her hair and pinched her arms and stole her food.

Well, wherever those cruel little children are, they aren't laughing now. No one laughed when the testers came knocking, when they declared her to be a Grisha, when they said she was strong...

She had been thirteen then. It's been five years since that day, three years since she first stopped a man's heart.

Kirigan's little toy, the others had whispered when they thought she couldn't hear. She'd do whatever he asked.

Such a loyal little pet. She'd die for him.

She's killed for him.

Well, damn them and their whispers. She is her own person, not Kirigan's. She doesn't belong to anyone and she may have gone to the most extreme of lengths to prove that, but at least she's proved it.

And they whisper her praises now. They fear her now. The one who got away. Who slipped through the Fold. Who escaped.

She tenses as a quiet suddenly settles over the room. The loud chatter fades and all she can hear is the racing of hearts. She lifts her head.

At a table to the opposite end of the tavern, a group of men has halted their game of dice. She takes in a deep breath as she hears the conversation growing louder. "You're cheating!"

"I am not!"

"Let me see those dice- -"

"No!"

"Come on, Abram, just show him!" a third voice chimes in. "Nothing to worry about if you aren't cheating!"

Raisa fights the urge to clamp her hands over her ears. Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Her mind is pleading as the arguing grows louder. That part is the part she trusts. Or, at least, the part she trusts the most.

The other part is darker, and she can hear it in the back of her mind. Make them quiet.

Her eyes dart upward, searching through the crowd to single out the table. Four men. Two on either side. Two on the offense, two on the defense. One is laughing.

She can pick out a heartbeat louder than the others. Abram's, she imagines. Cheater, liar, greedy, her mind chants. Just like the rest of them.

Then the better part of her, begging, stop it, stop it, stop it!

Raisa grits her teeth. The whole tavern is watching the table now.

The arguing is getting louder. So is Abram's heartbeat. Tha-thump, tha-thump- -

A high cry slices through the air at the sound of the gunshot. The shrill sound coupled with the blast makes Raisa's head go wild. Abram's heartbeat stops.

"Hey!" someone cries out. The owner of the tavern is the likely source of the voice. Raisa can't imagine that men killing each other is what he wants in his establishment.

It's justice, she hears Kirigan saying in the back of her mind. She can practically feel his hands on her shoulders, his breath on her neck, speaking gently to try and shift her attention from the man tied up in the chair before her. He's a murderer, Rai. He was given to us so you could train.

She's done things she's not proud of. Many things. Most of them were done at the will of her general, with his easy voice and venomous words fed to her like spoonfuls of honey. Stop his heart. Slow his lungs.

Kill him.

The gunman is surrounded. His eyes are dark, black as coal. He doesn't even move as the tavern owner's men circle him, drawing closer and closer.

Justice...

She watches him. Her hands seem to move of their own volition, laying a handful of coins on the table before she focuses solely on the shooter.

With a careful twist of her hands, she stops his heart. She watches him double over, gasping and choking. The light fades from his eyes and he keels over, his knees thudding against the floor.

There's panic.

In the chaos, Raisa is able to slip out unnoticed. That's good. No one will see her and ask questions. She knows that things will become difficult, however, when someone realizes that this wasn't just a heart attack, that this was the work of a Grisha.

She's not well known in Ketterdam. That's also good.

Head down, back bent, eyes low.

Justice.

This is justice.