𝖘𝖎𝖝 𝖔𝖋 𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖘
❛ and from the ashes of
his innocence arose the
bastard of the barrel ❜
━━ IN WHICH a ruthless criminal recruits the prodigious businesswoman whose life he destroyed in order to carry out the biggest he...
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⊱♠⊰
KETTERDAM WAS bursting from the seams with every sort of person imaginable, from gangsters to merchants to prostitutes to starry-eyed tourists stepping off the barges, their pockets lined with kruge and their minds filled with dreams.
Tivra Dayal sat on her balcony, a glass of dark, bitter wine perched between her slender fingers as she watched yet another barge of tourists and dreamers unload, their eyes as wide as dinner plates as they took in the glittering scenes before them. To an outsider, Ketterdam must have looked like heaven.
Pretty women lingered on porches, their bodies scantily clad in soft, colorful silks, their eyes darkened with lust as they purred and chirped at potential clients. Casinos and gambling dens glittered, bursting from every crack and seam with music, shouts, and the possibility of big wins.
A stormcloud hovered over the horizon, casting Ketterdam's harbor in a dreary glow. She could smell the rain in the air, her nose crinkling as the scent of fish and sulfur flooded her nostrils. There was going to be a big storm tonight.
Tivra sipped on her wine, rolling it across her tongue as she watched her Serpents entice the starry-eyed dreamers into her casinos and gambling dens, where their pockets would be emptied and their heads filled with promises of a better day tomorrow.
In the distance, a movement caught her eye. Her gaze flicked from the happenings of the people on the street to the figure that darted across a distant rooftop, her small body wrapped in dark clothing, her face concealed by a slip of fabric that hung over her mouth and nose.
Tivra's lips curled. The Wraith. How many times had that little spider crept into her own buildings? Into her office? How often had her lithe fingers swiped something that belonged to Tivra?
How many times had Kaz Brekker sent his Wraith to keep tabs on Tivra?
Her nostrils flared with a deep sigh as her hand fell to the weight of the dagger strapped to her thigh. Quickly, she stood, her inky gown fanning around her body as she spun around and stepped into her office, the rest of her bitter wine sliding down her throat with ease. A comfortable warmth spread across her face as she set the glass down and leaned over her desk, her violet eyes scanning her ledgers and books.
She had better things to worry about than the Wraith.
A knock sounded at her door, dragging her attention from the letters and numbers written in her native Suli-dialect before her. "Come in," she called out, her voice steady despite the anger that thrummed through her body.
Tentatively, her door was pushed open and a young face appeared in the crack. One of the newest recruits of the Crystal Serpents, a young boy of barely seventeen. Tivra straightened and beckoned the recruit inside as she took a seat at her desk.
