𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 | 𝑘.𝑏.

45

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N O  D O U B T
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THE CREW PRACTICALLY SAT VIGIL. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, treading quietly over the decks. Matthias was sequestered away with Nina and he'd called upon Wylan with his knowledge of tinctures and compounds in the event that Nina caved and requested regular jurda to try to stifle the ache parem had bereaved her with.

Kuwei wandered the decks silently, only ever found standing at the rail beside Jesper. Kaz was off somewhere; Feta didn't look for him.

Feta split her time between nautical education with Inej, which featured knot and sail rigging lessons from Rotty and Specht, and chatty walks around the deck with Jesper.

Feta and Jesper found each other one day when the silence was particularly unbearable and took up position at the bow. Feta was dangling her legs over the edge.

"You know," Jesper said, arms folded on the railing beside where Feta sat. "I figured the trip back to Ketterdam would be more of a party."

Feta smiled thinly. "Ah, yes, confusing scarce drinks with piss bottles. That's exactly how I'd want to celebrate."

Jesper cocked his head up at her and raised his eyebrows. "Have you been pissing in bottles?"

They looked at each other and laughed. It was the most joy that had been present on the Ferolind since they'd initially left its decks for the Ice Court.

They both possessed the talent of being able to talk about everything and nothing at once, so that's exactly how they carried on, flinging the conversation from debriefs on how the heist had gone to exuberant displays they would make with their fortunes. The conversation arrived inevitably at Nina's sacrifice and they both fell silent.

Feta traced over the ink of Rusalye. From the flared neck frill to the forked tails that ended near her elbow. "I wish it were me," she said honestly. "Belowdecks, begging for a fix. It should've been me, anyway."

Jesper opened his mouth to protest, because none of them deserved this fate, but she said it all so calmly, like it was fact.

"Nina's been through enough," continued Feta. "I mean I know being Grisha hasn't been so hunky-dory for any of us but Nina already serves the Second Army, you know? She's already risked Jarl Brum and worse for...well, for Grisha freedom, however Ravka wants to define that." Jesper gave an exhale that probably would've been a laugh if there was more joy to spare. Feta's wry smile faded as she watched the churning sea. "All my life I've been obsessed with freedom, and now I can't help feeling like it's always been about how much freedom I've got."

"With all due respect," Jesper said with conviction, "that's hardly true, Feta." He scoffed, turned his head. "At least you made a grab for the parem."

Jesper couldn't bring himself to talk about the Tidemakers back in the courtyard. How they disappeared and reappeared at will. How they separated the blood from the bodies of those guards, their own twisted like calls to like. How he killed them. How they begged him to help them. He knew exactly what Feta would have become if she had taken the parem, and he had killed her.

It wasn't as though Jesper was okay with what Nina became, what she was putting herself through for all their sakes, but he very well might have lost it if Feta — his first friend; who walked with him from the University to the Barrel; who stayed with him when she should've run; who trusted him — had become the thing he killed.

They let the silence stretch. Eventually they met each other's eye. Feta was the first to upend the pity party with a dry, humorless laugh. She ruffled Jesper's hair. "Listen to us. Moping about the suffering that's not ours. Like any of this guilt is going to help." Feta twisted off the railing and landed on the deck. "You know if Nina were here she'd slap us both."