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IF ANYONE WAS TO ASK LIANNA ANDERSEN WHAT THE TURNING POINT HAD BEEN, she would tell them about the vaguely shaped silhouette hiding in the rooted shadows of Thomas Ford's mansion. She would describe how on one of many meaningless evenings in Ketterdam, out of the corner of her eye and only for a split second, Lianna saw someone sitting on the windowsill. The ghost was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind but an unsettling feeling of being watched by a faceless observer.
But Lianna knew better than to believe the figure was just a spectre, a creation of her tired mind. She had been breathing the choking air of Ketterdam for long enough to have learned the most important thing, the key to survival – to never doubt herself. In world's scummiest capital of all trade and business, where around every corner someone could be awaiting to put a knife to your throat, you could trust no one if not yourself. So, even if the spectator disappeared before she could take a closer look, she knew she was being spied on. She knew what she saw.
And she was right. Three days after the Wraith came the bastard king of the Barrel.
That night she walked into her bedroom, hoping the darkness would prove to be merciful and let her sleep. But there he was. Leaning against the very same window from which Inej Ghafa vanished few days earlier. With one of his legs outstreched and a cane in his gloved hand, despite the relaxed posture and slouched shoulders, Kaz Brekker still looked like an animal ready to attack whenever he saw fit.
"You could have at least shown some manners and closed the window after breaking in. It's gotten cold in here," she said quietly. Her face remained blank, although the boy's sudden presence startled her. She closed the door with composure and leaned back against it.
If worse comes to worst, Kaz Brekker could be pinned to the ground in a matter of moments. Just one simple movement of her hands, but only as a last resort. Lianna Andersen was not frightened by Kaz Brekker. She was not frightened by anyone, for that matter.
Or so she desperately needed to believe.
"Lianna." He was bathed in moonlight coming through the window, suspended in the star-like glow, the boy usually nothing but shade and ebony now illuminated by those silver rays. The smile which grew on his face barely reached his eyes as he tilted his head to the side. "Long time no see."
An understatement. They had only met a few times before, all around a year ago, when he was trying to recruit her into the Dregs so she would spy on Thomas Ford, the very man she served. After she refused, again and again, he left her alone.
"I have a job for you." His voice cold as steel, thoroughgoing and raspy like glasspaper against hardwood floor, piercing through the heavy tension of the room and sending a shiver down the girl's spine.
Her brows furrowed as she took a step forward.
"Too bad I don't work for you, Brekker." Her throat was raw. It could have all been rumours, but the darkest alleys of Ketterdam were flooded with gruesome tales about, now former, daredevils who refused to obey Dirtyhands' orders.
