'It is very difficult to make ones way in this city without being wicked at one time or another, when the cities way is so wicked to begin with.'
Or in which: Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason - but his little sister was the closest thing to it.
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When Violet was little and their Da had died working out in the field of their little farm, all she really remembered was the look on Jordie's face and the blood staining his pristine sunday shirt as he made sure Kaz and her stayed inside.
Thinking back on it, she faintly recalled missing dinner that night because their Ma had a lot of things to take care of.
When she returned early hours of the morning and Violet was still up, unable to sleep through the heat of the summer weather, she'd made her way to her side and tugged on her skirts to get her attention. No one had really told her what had happened, but she knew it was something bad judging by the tear tracks barely dried on her mothers cheeks, barely lit in the candle light.
Still, she had picked her daughter up and held her close, sitting with her in the old rocking chair. Over her shoulder, she had drifted off to sleep playing with her mothers hair in loose plait down her back.
Everything moved so quickly, and she had been so small and unaware, constantly asking questions but no one having the time to even glance down at her as they moved past. Jordie had been distant, helping out Ma with something to do with the house as more and more people came by to visit, people she had never seen before and some she had, offering picked flowers and hugs to their mother and condolences.
She'd never heard that word before, but learnt it's true meaning properly just a year later when their mother passed on from pneumonia.
Condolences: an expression of sympathy, especially following the death of a loved one or close friend.
And then, after hearing the word thrown around in whispers when they thought no one was listening, she asked Jordie what the word 'Widow' meant as they laid in their little beds all piled together in the one room, watching the moonlight on the ceiling and unable to sleep.
Perhaps it was only then that she'd truly felt the impact of their fathers accident.
Now, when Violet has the misfortune of remembering those past moments in her nightmares, she thinks her mother didn't really die of pneumonia, but rather a broken heart. She had read the phenomenon in a book before, at which time in her life she could not be entirely sure, but it often left her with a ball of sadness at the root of her bones just thinking about it.
With both parents gone, the three had had no fees able way to sustain the farm, nor their quaint little home, and even though all of their neighbours expressed their condolences once more - it seemed no amount of sympathy or kindness could have kept them off of the streets.
They had had no choice but to go to Ketterdam, where property values were half the price and they had even a slither of a chance at finding a home with their dwindling funds.
In reality, they'd had no chance to begin with - Just three little pigeons with feathers ripe for plucking.
Jordie had vowed to take care of Kaz and Violet as the oldest, but Ketterdam was a vicious place to survive with nothing but the clothes on their backs, the coins in their pockets and no food in their stomachs.
