“Bad.” But she knew it would get worse.
“Do you want to try the jurda? ” Kuwei had suggested that small doses of regular jurda might help Nina get through the day.
She shook her head. “I want … I want – Saints, why is it so hot in here?” Then, despite the pain, she tried to sit up. “Don’t give me another dose. Whatever I say, Matthias, no matter how much I beg. I don’t want to be like Nestor, like those Grisha in the cells.”
“Nina, Kuwei said the withdrawal could kill you. I won’t let you die.”
Kuwei. Back at the treasury Matthias had said, He’s one of us. She liked that word. Us. A word without divisions or borders. It seemed full of hope.
She flopped back down, and her whole body rebelled. Her clothes were crushed glass. “I would have killed every one of the drüskelle.”
“We all carry our sins, Nina. I need you to live so I can atone for mine.”
“You can do that without me, you know.”
He buried his head in his hands. “I don’t want to.”
“Matthias,” she said, running her fingers through the close crop of his hair. It hurt. The world hurt.
Touching him hurt, but she still did it. She might not ever get to again. “I am not sorry.”
He took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. She winced, but when he tried to pull away, she clutched him tighter.
“Stay,” she panted. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Stay till the end.”
“And after,” he said. “And always.”
“I want to feel safe again. I want to go home to Ravka.”
“Then I’ll take you there. We’ll set fire to raisins or whatever you heathens do for fun.”
“Zealot,” she said weakly.
“Witch.”
“Barbarian.”
“Nina,” he whispered, “little red bird. Don’t go.”
As the schooner sped south, it was as if the whole crew was sitting vigil. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, treading quietly over the decks. Jesper was as worried about Nina as anyone – except Matthias, he supposed – but the respectful silence was hard to bear. He needed something to shoot at.
The Ferolind felt like a ghost ship. Matthias was sequestered with Nina, and he’d asked for Wylan’s help in caring for her. Even if Wylan didn’t love chemistry, he knew more about tinctures and compounds than anyone in the crew other than Kuwei, and Matthias couldn’t understand half of what Kuwei said. Jesper hadn’t seen Wylan since they’d fled the Djerholm harbour, and he had to admit he missed having the merchling around to annoy. Kuwei seemed friendly enough, but his Kerch was rough, and he didn’t seem to like to talk much. Sometimes he’d just appear on deck at night and stand silently beside Jesper, staring out at the waves. It was a little unnerving. Only Inej wanted to chat with anyone, and that was because she seemed to have developed a consuming interest in all things nautical. She spent most of her time with Specht and Rotty, learning knots and how to rig sails.
Jesper had always known there was a good chance they wouldn’t make this journey home at all, that they’d end up in cells in the Ice Court or skewered on pikes. But he’d figured that if they managed the impossible task of rescuing Yul-Bayur and getting to the Ferolind, the trip back to Ketterdam would be a party. They’d drink whatever Specht might have squirreled away on the ship, eat the last of Nina’s toffees, recount their close calls and every small victory. But he never could have foreseen the way they’d been cornered in the harbour, and he certainly couldn’t have imagined what Nina had done to get them out of it.
Jesper worried about Nina, but thinking about her made him feel guilty. When they’d boarded the schooner and Kuwei explained parem, a tiny voice inside him said he should offer to take the drug as well. Even though he was a Fabrikator without training, maybe he could have helped to draw the parem out of Nina’s system and set her free. But that was a hero’s voice, and Jesper had long since stopped thinking he had the makings of a hero. Hell, a hero would have volunteered to take the parem when they were facing down the Fjerdans at the harbour.
When Kerch finally appeared on the horizon, Jesper felt a strange mixture of relief and trepidation. Their lives were about to change in ways that still didn’t seem real.
They dropped anchor, and when nightfall came, Jesper asked Kaz if he could join him and Rotty in the longboat they were rowing to Fifth Harbour. They didn’t need him along, but Jesper was desperate for distraction.
The chaos of Ketterdam was unchanged – ships unloading their cargo at the docks, tourists and soldiers on leave pouring out of boats, laughing and shouting to each other on their way to the Barrel.
“Looks the same as when we left it,” Jesper said.
Kaz raised a brow. He was back in his sleek grey-and-black suit, immaculate tie. “What did you expect?”