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chapter fourteen. ketterdam
Aria held the long knives in her hands.
In the darkness of her own bedroom in the Slat, she found her own reflection in the metal. She barely looee like herself—with a sigh, Aria pulled the belt around her waist and let the knives rest at her hips. Kaz had told her not to follow—but, she did. He'd still face the Dregs on his own, but Aria would be hiding above, watching it all. Aria let out a bated breath and jumped onto her roof from the window, skidding to a halt. She pivoted around and closed it behind her before tiptoeing to a lower window by jumping from railing to railing. They wobbled under her weight, causing Aria to look down to the street below, hundreds of feet down—Aria's legs shook at the thought of falling all the way down, to die after all she'd risked. To die not in the Ice Court, but right in front of her own home. Or what she used to call home.
Aria was no spider, she was graceless—a tangle of limbs and missteps. She was not Inej Ghafa, not even close. Inej had intention in each movement, calculation with each step. Aria wasn't even relatively close to that. Her feet were heavy and she couldn't even balance herself on one foot. But still, she stepped onto the beam that went across the high roof of the Slat. Her hands planted themselves on the ceiling, trying to keep herself steady as she took slow steps across the beam—she was not Inej Ghafa. She was not Jesper Fahey. She was not Wylan, or Nina, or Matthias. She was Aria Antonov, a mess of a girl and utterly terrified as she followed Kaz Brekker's movement.
Aria found Kaz as he stood at the landing of the staircase, hand propped on his cane. "Old man," he said aloud, his rock-salt rasp cutting through the smooth chatter of the Slat, causing every one of the Dregs to turn and look at him with wide eyes. Aria realized Kaz had found another coat of his, the one he'd lent to her still on her back. It was perfectly tailored to his figure, Aria hated that she thought Kaz looked good. He leaned against his cane, hair neatly pushed back from his pale face, a black glass boy of deadly edges. Aria flushed at the sight.
"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch, Brekker. You have to be the craziest bastard I ever met," said Per Haskell, with comically wide eyes.
Kaz hummed. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"Shouldn't have come here—unless it's to turn yourself in like the smart lad I know you to be." Per Haskell hoped, a brow raised.
Aria took another step across the roof beam, the short swords clattering at her hips. The wood gave a sickly crack and Aria almost gasped. She took a deep breath and tried to keep herself balanced as she looked directly down on Kaz—watching him like the Saint he never had.
