Tseren commits a crime a day for Kaz Brekker. Even talking to him could get her a stint in jail. Her Dreg tattoo, hidden by her servant uniform, could get her sent to Hellgate, with the wrong judge.
And yet, it's worth it. She knows it is. Brekker'...
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𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗔 entered the cell, she was filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt. It was her fault Matthias had been stuck in this small, freezing jail for a crime he'd never committed. She'd done it to protect him, the man she used to love.
She owed it to him to get him out. She'd stayed in that dreaded city, Ketterdam, to be close to the prison and attempt to recant her statement, but the courts had been clogged, and she'd been poor. She'd gotten the Dreg tattoo shortly after that, and had been working at the White Rose since, trying to find a way to right her wrongs.
She'd gotten a visit from Kaz, and finally, an opportunity. She didn't trust Kaz, not nearly as far as she could throw him, but she knew he'd uphold their deal. If she did her part, Matthias would be out of Hellgate by dawn.
The thought excited her, frightened her, and filled her mind with unwanted memories. All those days they'd spent traveling together, the day she'd framed him . . .
She'd gone to the docks, of course. She'd met Kaz and Muzzen there, and they'd rowed her to Terrenjel. As the Lost Bride, she'd watched the Hellshow, watched as Matthias was forced to kill wolves. Nina pleaded with Kaz to stop it, but he'd brushed her off. He didn't understand–and if he did, he didn't care–that Matthias had just committed one of the most unforgivable acts for a drüskelle.
He'd done it, and prayed over their bodies, faith unbroken by the harsh conditions of his prison. She'd stood next to the Scarab Queen, and watched as a fallen holy man killed the animals he once fought alongside.
The gilded mask of the Scarab Queen had always scared Nina. Whenever she ran across them on the streets of Ketterdam, she'd see people throwing flowers at her. The mask was flat, expressionless, and, under the shimmering carapace cloak, Nina could never see what the actor was doing. It was like she was an automaton–no emotion, no feeling.
She'd always imagined that the Scarab Queen could see her, no matter where she stood in the crowd. She would watch Nina–blankly, without any judgment. The mask just made it seem like her eyes would catch onto Nina's from across any room, or across even the busiest street of the Pleasure District.
Brekker's Scarab Queen was no different: her gaze seemed to penetrate Nina's veil. The Scarab Queen, in a crowd of Scarab Queens, knew everything, could read every thought Nina had.
Nina couldn't read her body language, and when she tried to sense anything within her body, it was so . . . normal. No great shifts in heart rate or pressure of the blood. The Scarab Queen, if Nina couldn't feel the warmth of her body, would be just as distant as one of Ketterdam's street performers.
