𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑫𝑶𝑾'𝑺 𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑨𝑹 - 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈

CHAPTER XIV.

TW /!\ BLOOD AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE /!\

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𝟓:𝟓𝟗 𝐚.𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.
𝐎𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐚, 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐤𝐚.
༻✧༺
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𝕿he sun had risen. The day had passed. The sun had set. The night had come.

And Nessa's blood was boiling.

She had not answered any questions from Kaz about what was going on with her, the freezing look of Dirtyhands not enough to cool her down anymore. The only thing she had asked Inej was how to get to the Darkling's quarters.

Her expression was freezingly calm — probably far more terrifying than a redden furious face as the Dregs did not ask further and let her remain locked away in her rooms all day. All except Kaz, of course.

"For the last time, Shadow." He had asked icily. "What in Ghezen is going on with you ? Is this because of him and this girl—"

Before he could finished his sentence, Nessa had him against a wall, her elbow on his throat and her eyes so fiery that one could almost have expected Kaz to consume right there and then. Something no one had ever done without living more then ten seconds after it.

"I am going to kill him." She had almost spit out, their faces inches away from each other. "That's all you need to know."

Next thing she knew, she was down on the floor, her right arm painfully twisted behind her back, and Kaz had vanished.

The crescent moon was now rising in the starless sky as Nessa laced her boots in fast and precise movements. Her wound from the night before still ached, but her anger was such that it largely overcame the pain. This controlled fury was nothing like the disorganized attacks she had launched the night before.

This was a different kind of anger, one that gave her focus. Purpose. Her senses were probably more sharpened than they ever were. She slid into Nina's room in absolute silent, her gaze barely landing on the sleeping form in the small bed, and pressed the decolored brick on the wall. The passageway revealed, the same style as the one the Darkling led Nessa in the night they met.

Pursing her lips at this memory, this moment of shameful weakness, Nessa slid into the passageway and the door closed behind her without the faintest sound. Only torches lighted the narrow corridors, originally used as emergency exists, but unneeded since the Grisha had come to habit the Little Palace.

Two lefts, down the latter, one right, one left, three rights, up and straight ahead. Nessa repeated Inej's instructions in her head like a mantra to prevent her thoughts from getting astray. All that mattered was twisting her knife into his throat until her hands were full of blood. What happened next? She did not care the slightest about getting arrested or killed. She did not care about the Saints punishing her or casting her away.

From now on, she'll be praying on the shadows' altar.

Her steps were quick and her breath even, all her senses deployed and ready. She heard the heartbeats of the guards far before she exited the passageway. At least ten of them were guarding the Darkling's chambers, the passageway directly exiting in the hall room of the Little Palace.

Nessa had killed before. Under Kaz's orders, she had tortured, blackmailed, assassinated countless men and women, sometimes even innocents. But all of this spilled blood was needed, to fill her and her gang's stomachs and pockets, to survive.

This time was different. This time, Nessa did not feel any guilt when she broke the neck of the firsts four guards and chocked the fifth with his own blood. She did not feel any regret when she twisted her knife in the sixth's throat while gouging out the eyes of the seventh. She did not hesitate when ripping the heart of the eighth, stabbing the ninth with his own spine and tearing the skin of the tenth while sucking the air out of his lungs to prevent him from screaming.