THESE BROKEN VOWS (Kazbrekker x Fem!reader) [ book version]

CHAPTER 4

-JESPER P.O.V-

Jesper felt like his clothes were crawling with fleas.

Whenever the crew left Black Veil Island to skulk around the Barrel, they wore the costumes of the Komedie Brute-the capes, veils, masks, and occasionally horns that tourists and locals alike used to disguise their identities while enjoying the pleasures of the Barrel.

But here on the respectable avenues and canals of the university district, Mister Crimson and the Gray Imp would have drawn a lot of stares, so he and Wylan had ditched their costumes as soon as they were clear of the Staves.

And if Jesper was honest with himself, he didn't want to meet his father for the first time in years dressed in a goggle-eyed mask or an orange silk cape or even his usual Barrel flash.

He'd dressed as respectably as he could.

Wylan had lent him a few kruge for a secondhand tweed jacket and a gloomy gray waistcoat.

Jesper didn't look precisely reputable, but students weren't supposed to look too prosperous anyway.

Once again he found himself reaching for his revolvers, longing for the cool, familiar feel of their pearl handles beneath his thumbs.

That skiv of a lawyer had ordered the floor boss to store them in a safe at the Cumulus.

Kaz said they'd get them back in good time, but he doubted Kaz would be so calm and collected if someone had swiped his cane.

You're the one who put them on the table like a nub , Jesper reminded himself.

He'd done it for Y/N, he'd done it for Inej.

And if he was honest, he'd done it for Kaz too, to show he was willing to do what it took to make things right.

Not that it seemed to matter much.

Well , he consoled himself, it's not like I could have worn my revolvers on
this errand anyway .

Students and professors didn't go from class to class packing powder.

Might make for a more interesting school day if they did.

Even so, Jesper had hidden a sad lump of a pistol beneath his coat.

This was Ketterdam, after all, and it was possible he and Wylan were walking into a trap.

That was why Kaz and Matthias were shadowing their steps.

He'd seen no sign of either of them, and Jesper supposed that was a good thing, but he was still grateful Wylan had offered to come along.

Kaz had only allowed it because Wylan said he needed supplies for his work on the weevil.

They walked past student cafés and booksellers, shop windows crammed with textbooks, ink, and paper.

They were less than two miles from the noise and clatter of the Barrel, but it felt like they'd crossed a bridge into another country.

Instead of packs of sailors fresh off the boats looking for trouble, or tourists jostling into you from every angle, people stepped aside to let you pass, kept their conversations low.

No barkers shouted from storefronts hoping to garner business.

The crooked little alleys were full of bookbinders and apothecaries, and the corners were free of the girls and boys who lacked an association with one of the West Stave houses and who had been forced to ply their trade on the street.