It was too much. He hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to see his homeland for the first time in so long. He’d had over a week aboard the Ferolind to prepare, but his head had been full of the path he’d chosen, of Nina, of the cruel magic that had taken him from his prison cell and placed him on a boat speeding north beneath a limitless sky, still bound not just by shackles but by the burden of what he was about to do.
He got his first glimpse of the northern coast late in the afternoon, but Specht decided to wait until dusk to make land in hopes the twilight would lend them some cover. There were whaling villages along the shore, and no one was eager to be spotted. Despite their cover as trappers, the Dregs were still a conspicuous group.
They spent the night on the ship. At dawn the next morning, Nina had found him assembling the cold weather gear Jesper and Inej had distributed. Matthias was impressed by Inej’s resilience.
Though she still had circles beneath her eyes, she moved without stiffness, and if she was in pain, she hid it well.
Nina held up a key. “Kaz sent me to remove your shackles.”
“Are you going to lock me in again at night?”
“That’s up to Kaz. And you, I suppose. Have a seat.”
“Just give me the key.”
Nina cleared her throat. “He also wants me to tailor you.”
“What? Why?” The thought of Nina altering his appearance with her witchcraft was intolerable.
“We’re in Fjerda now. He wants you looking a little less … like yourself, just in case.”
“Do you know how big this country is? The chance that—”
“The odds of you being recognised will be considerably higher at the Ice Court, and I can’t make changes to your appearance all at once.”
“Why?”
“I’m not that good a Tailor. It’s part of all Corporalki training now, but I just don’t have an affinity for it.”
Matthias snorted.
“What?” she asked.
“I’ve never heard you admit you’re not good at something.”
“Well, it happens so rarely.”
He was horrified to find his lips curling in a smile, but it was easy enough to quell when he thought of his face being changed. “What does Brekker want you to do to me?”
“Nothing radical. I’ll change your eye colour, your hair – what you have of it. It won’t be permanent.”
“I don’t want this.” I don’t want you near me.
“It won’t take long, and it will be painless, but if you want to argue about it with Kaz …”
“Fine,” he said, steeling himself. It was pointless to argue with Brekker, not when he could simply taunt Matthias with the promise of the pardon. Matthias picked up a bucket, flipped it over, and sat down. “Can I have the key now?”
She handed it over to him and he unshackled his wristsas she rooted around in a box she’d brought over. It had a handle and several little drawers stuffed with powders and pigments in tiny jars. She extracted a pot of something black from a drawer.
“What is it?”
“Black antimony.” She stepped close to him, tilting his chin back with the tip of her finger.
“Unclench your jaw, Matthias. You’re going to grind your teeth down to nothing.”
He crossed his arms.
She started shaking some of the antimony over his scalp and gave a rueful sigh. “Why does the brave drüskelle Matthias Helvar eat no meat?” she asked in a theatrical voice as she worked. “’Tis a sad story indeed, my child. His teeth were winnowed away by a vexatious Grisha, and now he can eat only pudding.”
“Stop that,” he grumbled.
“What? Keep your head tilted back.”
“What are you doing?”
“Darkening your brows and lashes. You know, the way girls do before a party.” He must have grimaced because she burst out laughing. “The look on your face!”
She leaned in, the waves of her brown hair brushing against his cheeks as she bled the colour from the antimony into his brows. Her hand cupped his cheek.
“Shut your eyes,” she murmured. Her thumbs moved over his lashes, and he realised he was holding his breath.
“You don’t smell like roses any more,” he said, then wanted to kick himself. He shouldn’t be noticing her scent.
“I probably smell like boat.”
No, she smelled sweet, perfect like … “Toffee?”
Her eyes slid away guiltily. “Kaz said to pack what we needed for the journey. A girl has to eat.”
She reached into her pocket and drew out a bag of toffees. “Want one?”
Yes. “No.”
She shrugged and popped one in her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she sighed happily. “So good.”
It was a humiliating epiphany, but he knew he could have watched her eat all day. This was one of the things he’d liked best about Nina – she savoured everything, whether it was a toffee or cold water from a stream or dried reindeer meat.
“Eyes now,” she said around the candy as she pulled a tiny bottle from her case. “You’ll have to keep them open.”
“What is that?” he asked nervously.
“A tincture developed by a Grisha named Genya Safin. It’s the safest way to change eye colour.”
Again she leaned in. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, her mouth slightly open. Her lips were bare inches from his. If he sat up straighter, they’d be kissing.
“You have to look at me,” she instructed.