LADY OF SHADOWS ☞ JESPER FAHEY (ON HOLD)

FOUR

ANASTASIA REALIZED, ONLY AS she'd begun to get ready for bed, that all of her nightclothes were still in their room at the tavern.

There were two options before her—either sleep in her clothes, corset included, or sleep in her chemise. It was far too cold in the Slat to sleep in just her undergarments, even with the scratchy woolen blanket that had been so kindly placed on the bed. But the corset wasn't comfortable at all, let alone enough to sleep in, so it seemed that she'd be sleeping in the chemise.

She'd settled into the small bed, harsh blanket pulled up over her waist as she stared up the wood-paneled ceiling. She hadn't expected to sleep that night, but judging by the way her thoughts were persistent and endless, she knew for a fact that she would be awake until dawn.

"Saints," a voice said from outside the tiny room, and something—or someone—hit the door. "Can you—Saints—can you open the door? Door's locked and I've got my hands full with all your shit."

Jesper.

The doorknob jiggled again, and Anastasia jumped.

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, took a deep breath, and climbed off of the bed, walking on tip-toed feet towards the door. She could hear him breathing, panting, really, on the other side.

Anastasia opened it before he could knock again, and he simply stared at her for a moment.

Her hair had been up in a delicate twist when she had arrived, but in the time between when Inej had deposited her in front of Clara's door to now, she had taken it down, and it hung in an ivory blonde curtain down to her waist.

She looked younger, Jesper thought. She looked to be in her early twenties when they'd first met, but with her hair down and any trace of makeup gone, she looked to be around his age. Her face was softer, and although she still wore a guarded expression, she seemed to be a bit more open.

"Here's your things." He said, dropping two bags at her feet. "Nearly got mugged on my way back, so, thanks."

The gentle, surprised look on her face hardened into a glare. "Unfortunate that they didn't take your clothes." She snapped.

Anastasia had meant it as an insult—if he'd been robbed of his clothes, he'd have to walk home naked, which would be highly embarrassing for him.

But it seemed that he took it as a flirtatious compliment, for his eyebrows shot up and his mouth tilted into a smile. "If you wanted to see me without clothes, all you have to do is ask. Never been with a Grisha before, though, so you'll have to take it easy on me."

"I've never been with an absolute idiot before, either." She grinned cruelly. "I don't think there's a first time for that, though."

Her chemise and the blanket had slipped off of her shoulder as she spoke, and his eyes immediately lurched to the exposed bit of skin; he took in the scar from his bullet, what should have been a fresh, bleeding wound. But it was healed, he realized, when it should not have been.

"Your little Heartrender fix that for you?" He asked, one hand coming up as if to run a finger over the puckered scar.

She flinched away, taking two steps backward. "Touch me, and you lose the hand." She said, mostly an empty threat that had a slight bit of real danger behind it. "I wouldn't want you to lose your only lover."

Jesper barely registered her filthy words, for her shadows darkened the room behind her to the point that the only thing he could see was her, and he wondered briefly if he was about to be suffocated by her darkness.