Drowning (Kaz Brekker)

iii - Old Enemies

TWO MONTHS SINCE ASRA CAME TO KETTERDAM, and she was perplexed by the place. Three months since she Kaz Brekker hired her, since a crow and cup tattoo had wound up on her wrist. The right one, she couldn't help but be thankful. The target still sat on her left, far up for all sleeves to hide it. She knew she should've gotten rid of it, but something stopped her. It still had its uses, or it would, when things got desperate or people insufferable.

She'd been in Ketterdam two months and, in that time, had got in as many fights. It was almost boring. She'd never gone so long without a genuine threat to her life, a fight that truly stirred the brutal thing inside her that made her feel alive. She'd contemplated heading down to one of those fighting pits that were so popular; it was almost certain excitment and Kaz was cheap shit; what was a few extra kruge gonna hurt? But the night of her first fight Kaz had taken her on a job.

It had been nothing special. Nothing she hadn't done before. Some business deal with some random not so fond of him, all on the not-so-legal side of things. She'd stood neatly at Kaz's side, the familiar weight of pistol on her hip. The bouncer and renowned Sharpshooter Jesper had stood on his other side. The Wraith had been lingering the roof across the street, watching through the unlocked, slightly open window. Asra knew when a hit was coming, and her nerves were alight the whole meeting.

When the first gun was drawn, she'd almost sighed with relief. The anticipation was making her twitchy.

They'd won. Of course they had, Asra was on their side. But even if she hadn't, the close-knit trio held their own well. Jesper's shots were as legendary as she'd heard. Inej was silent as shadow, invisible till Asra caught the flash of her blades in the moonlight. Even Kaz, despite the limp and the cane, or maybe because of it. The crow-headed cane put a noticeable dent in his would-be business partner's skull before they left.

They left, strolling down the streets with the confidence that only came after a brush with death. Inej was drilling Kaz for answers about how'd he'd known the jump was coming. Kaz was just shrugged her off with increasingly short answers. Jesper was giddy with adrenaline and whatever else was flowing through them. Asra could relate, but Jesper seemed to come down quicker, and was soon drilling Kaz alongside Inej. Kaz himself was Kaz, same as ever, unfazed, mildly annoyed at everything.

Asra laughed, loudly, stepping ahead of all of them. She spun lightly on her heel to face them, grinning. "You lot worry too much, you know that?"

Jesper laughed back, slinging an arm around her shoulders. He was so tall compared to her, but not big. Lanky. She could take him. She already had once. "Us lot? You're one of now. Asra, right?"

Asra had stopped a moment. The casual touch, the name. She suddenly realised how not used to it all she was. She and Kaz spent most their time in silence, and none of the gamblers exactly got on first name bases with a barmaid. A name rattled her. And the touch, so casual and easy and friendly. What the fuck is this?

But she'd recovered in less than a moment, disguising her shock with a slight stumble from Jesper's sudden weight. She'd laughed again, and suddenly they were talking. She was having an actual conversation with them and, in the month or so since, she hadn't stopped. Was this friendship? It was so much... easier than she expected.

Jesper had wound up in front, spring in his step at the mention of a gamble. Inej was slipping in and out of the shadows beside them, silent, fascinating to watch. Or try to. Asra found herself mesmerised by the Suli girl, so much so she barely noticed Kaz beside her till he spoke.

"Wouldn't get that excitement in the fighting pits, would you?"

Her head had snapped towards him. She hated how he was taller than her. Her eyes rested just above his shoulder. She had such a good view of the scar along his throat, probably from where someone tried to cut it. She had one or two matching, but she'd been trying to hide them behind her shirt collar. She hadn't done that before, hide her scars, there were just too many for it to be possible. The Scarred One, that's what some had called her. She'd learned liked the title, but Asra wasn't the Scarred One, she was a barmaid.