• Serpent Among Crows • Kaz Brekker

1

Zhen was only nine years old, too young to fully understand what it meant when her mother dragged her by the arm into her incense smelling room in The Willow. It was a place she had been many a time but had never been permitted to stay very long; she had always been quickly ushered away downstairs to her own small bedroom, that in hindsight, was more like a storage closet sat beneath the winding stairs.

She had been born to a prostitute under the Willow's roof. Usually Dame Florescu took precautionary measures to stop any pregnancies from occurring, terminating them before it became a problem; children were not good for business, or at least not until they were old enough to be of use.

Saran Kir-Shina was the Willow's only lady of Shu decent, a stunning, curvaceous woman with midnight black hair and shining eyes that had been sorely dulled over the years. It had not been her choice to live in that line of business - she had been brought on a slavers ship from an orphanage on the edge of the Shu Han at thirteen - and the Dame had taken an immediate liking to her.

Shu girls make such a pretty penny.

Saran had not known she was pregnant at nineteen until her body became wracked with illness - it was too late when she noticed the subtle swelling of her stomach beneath her satin dress, all of the focus being on her being unwell in the first place - Dame Florescu just wanted her prized possession back to work as soon as possible so she could start making money again.

When Saran realised, she had been rightly terrified. But the Dame had had an idea, planning to use the child for profit - if she could not fix the problem like all the others, she would use the situation to her advantage.

Saran had no choice in the matter - the girl was born prematurely, scarily underweight and bathed in her mothers blood, amid screams and crying. It took one of the other girls and a healer three minutes to get the baby to breathe again. But the girl had lived, despite her small size and poor circumstances, and Saran had found a nerfound purpose in her miserable life.

The other girls had supported her as she was one of their own, taking turns to look after the young girl while her mother couldn't. They brushed her ebony hair and walked with her on their hips as she babbled and giggled and played with the loose adornments on their clothes. They made the best out of what they could, stepping in, because Saran had always been kind and secretly, at some point in their lives, they had dreamt about being mothers despite knowing it could never happen.

Zhen grew up in silent understanding of what would be expected of her when she became old enough, had always understood, and had always feared it. Her mother never seemed phased by it, at least not in her presence, and did her best to avoid talking about what it was she did, or what Zhen would soon be doing.

She spent her years mostly locked away in her room, the closet, listening to the sounds of the brothel and waiting, but for what she would never know - there was just nothing to do other than wait. She hid her flinches when the Dames manicured fingers tugged at her hair playfully, pretending she didn't understand her vulgar suggestions and comments about her appearance, pretending to ignore her impending bleak future.

Wasn't that what children did? Play pretend?

The years pass by and the Dame grew more dangerous; Zhen overheard conversations between her and possible clients, men with money to flaunt and sickening ideals. She overheard promises that involved her name and wasn't sure if she was meant to hear them or not - but Florescu had her ways, her ploys, and everything she did was with purpose.

There were whispers of new clients in the coming weeks after her ninth birthday, whispers that had all of the girls on edge, constantly vigilant of the young girl, constantly keeping an eye on her for one reason or another.

She didn't quite understand when her mother dragged her upstairs to her room, the room that she was rarely permitted to enter, and watched as Saran pushed the dresser in front of the door. She moved with more purpose than she had ever seen, a new light in her golden eyes as she shoved a few basic items into a satchel that she prised from beneath one of the broken floorboards.

Soon, there had been a pounding of footsteps and fists at the door, the Dames shrill voice sending a wave of fear over mother and daughter.

Zhen didn't know what to do when the bag was shoved into her hands and her mother told her to listen. There was a fierce spark in her eyes she had never seen before.

The same spark that had appeared when she was born.

Purpose.

The chair was used to shatter the tiny window and Zhen could do nothing but watch as her mother picked her up and stood her on the chair so she could reach the sill, knocking out the rest of the glass with her elbow without a care for her own delicate skin.

"Listen to me." Saran placed a hand on her daughters cheek, forcing her to meet her eyes. "You leave this place and you never look back. Find safety, and find it far away from here."

Zhen's lower lip had wobbled as she realised this was goodbye.

The pounding on the door grew heavier, more enraged. There was shouting in the hallway, bruises pounding footfalls running up the stairs at the Dames call.

"Eej?" Mum? She clutched her hand, not wanting to let go, tears welling in her eyes. "Bài tuo-" please-

She clutched it tightly, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

"Know that I loved you," Saran's khol painted lips lifted to a wavering smile as wiped tears from her daughters rosy cheeks. "And know that it was not enough."

Zhen did as she was told, had no other choice.

The way her mother held a thick, pointed shard of glass in hand so tightly her palm seeped crimson would forever stick in her mind - the raw determination, the spark in her eyes dying out as she said goodbye to the only good thing in her life - and Zhen knew as her little boots hit the cobbles and she put as much distance between herself and the brothel as she could, that she would not see her mother again.

Years later did she realise that that was how her mother had intended it; The glass and the soft skin of her wrist, the shards crunching under her daughters shoes as she ran away, the glassy look in Zhen's own eyes as she realised she was alone.

Zhen ran, and ran, and ran until she collapsed against a young boy in an old, dusty cap on the other side of town, her past behind her and her future right in front of her very eyes.