𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ━━ Kaz Brekker

𝐈𝐈𝐈𝐈.

CHAPTER IIII.
the enemy of my enemy

    Maybe, just maybe, Kaz was right. She was safer off at the Slat. But she was willing to drown face flat in the Fifth Harbour than to ever admit that.

Her rationality was like the curl of smoke after an extinguished candle of ego. She allowed Kaz to break her again—the proof in her lapsed breaths and hasty tears.

There Leia stood, hidden in the unlit curve right outside the Slat, eyeing her regret that came in the form of a three-levelled building. Which happened to be the only insulated place in Ketterdam.

Curse your impulsiveness, Selma nagged. A broken heart is no reason for a weak mind.

Leia wanted to go to Nina as promised, but thought Matthias Helvar was already a big enough problem.

She escaped Hellgate, returned home. She made it. But how could a celebration feel so lonely?

Pride held high, she sought refuge in an alley near the Slat. She'd be safe here, no sane person would cause trouble around Dirtyhands' home.

Still living in his light? Ah. The Ketterdam nights were cold as always. Her ability to keep herself warm was about all the pride she had left. Yet in the basking warmth, all that came to mind was a fleeting set of bitter eyes—so cunning and cold. Only a year had passed, but his hardened eyes were still etched in memory. Leia wondered what price Dirtyhands paid in her absence.

From here, she had a perfect view of his room. Even in the dead of the night, it was still lit. A shadow of him played on his drawn curtains. Judging from the way his head was perched on one hand, she reckoned he fell asleep on his desk.

Always so busy, she huffed. And he'd always say: "I'll have plenty of rest in my grave."

He came to Hellgate, why? Was it guilt? She ridiculed, he needed a heart for that to happen.

And who said he came for you? He went to save the drüskelle first, didn't he?

By the time morning rolled in, Leia cowered in a heavy black suit jacket—courtesy of one bastard's wardrobe. Kaz's brilliance and downfall was his arrogance. He thought nobody would dare steal from him. Well...

His black jacket fitted larger than her shoulders, but she flattened its silky lapel, pulled down her hat and wasted no time to find a Tailor. Between two jewel shops in Little Ravka, housed the most talented Tailor she'd ever met.

If anyone could have helped Kaz Brekker tailor a carbon copy of her, it was him.

She spared no glances to anyone else, head low and feet fast until she arrived in Little Ravka. The Lantsov symbol hung everywhere. It was impossible to escape from it. In the blinding pool of Ravkan blue and gold, she spotted a familiar signage.