LADY OF SHADOWS ☞ JESPER FAHEY (ON HOLD)

SEVEN

WHEN THEY ARRIVED BACK at the Slat, Kaz was waiting for them in the entryway with Clara and Inej, who had somehow made it back before them.

    Anastasia couldn't help but beam when she saw Clara; it felt like days had passed since the last time she'd seen her, with all of the training and tailoring appointments over the past several weeks.

    "How'd it go?" Clara asked cheerfully, fully dressed with bright eyes despite the late hour. "Wait, are you bleeding?"

    While Anastasia's arm pulsed with a faint, painful throb, she didn't seem to be too worried about it. "Oh, yeah. They shot at me, but it's just a graze. It stopped bleeding on the way back." She said, startlingly casual. She glanced at Jesper, eyes narrowed. "We were never in any danger, so don't worry."

    Instead of letting Clara fret over a superficial injury, Anastasia made her way to the stairs, casting one final look over her shoulder. "Oh, Kaz? I'd check Jesper's pockets. He's got, I don't know, six hundred thousand kruege worth of gems and jewelry in them. Wouldn't want him to book a ship to the end of the world and live out his days comfortably, now would we?" There was a smile in her expression, cold and calculating.

    "We're not done, Anastasia." Kaz called after her. "We need to debrief, and go over what happened."

    But something Jesper had said on the walk back had annoyed her to the point of rage: he'd suggested that, with her powers, she would become just like the shadow summoning general from Ravka. He'd likened them to a shocking extent, and although it had happened many times before, the cockiness in his tone angered her. He thought he knew everything about her from just a few weeks of knowing her. When Inej had mentioned that she shared abilities with the Black Heretic, it had been a simple observation, not an insult.

    She was so resentful of this that the minute she had the chance to get Clara alone, they'd plan their escape. They'd go somewhere far away from Kaz and his ruthless rule over them, away from sweet Inej and her quiet kindness, and away from Jesper's offensive mouth.

⚜︎

    Anastasia fumbled with the buttons on the back of her gown. With the seamstress's nimble hands working the dozen tiny closures, it was easy to get the dress on and off. But by herself, she had to contort herself into uncomfortable and almost painful position to even have a chance at reaching the buttons.

    Eventually, she'd managed to undo all of the buttons, and she stood in front of the small bed, looking down at the fabric of the dress that was splayed across it. It was the nicest thing she'd ever had the pleasure of calling her own, only rivaled by the cloak—Fabrikator made, hand-crafted by a friend of her mother's when Anastasia had reached mortal adolescence—that she'd lost in Fjerda centuries ago.

    She thought of Inej then. The two had become fast friends, despite the fact that they had only met because Inej had broken into her room in the middle of the night. Inej was the only one at the Slat, in all of Ketterdam, really, to be downright compassionate. She'd been the one to offer Anastasia food and drink when she first entered the dining room of the Slat, to respect her for not only her ability, but for who she was as a person.

    It would hurt to leave her behind. But it was necessary in order to get away. One person's respect did not negate countless others' disrespect.

    Anastasia sighed. Thoughts of her future, of where they would go next, plagued her. They hadn't planned on leaving so soon—barely a month in a place that was supposed to last them years.

    She had to talk to Clara, at least before she attempted to get any sort of sleep, no matter how little.

    But when she opened the creaky door to the small bedroom, it wasn't Clara that stood on the other side. It was Jesper.