“Men die all the time in Ketterdam. Just stay alert. She may need backup.”
Jesper darted through the door, and Matthias released a growl of frustration. He hurried to catch up to Nina, turning Jesper’s warning over in his mind, but said nothing as she stepped into the boat and he launched them into the canal.
The smartest thing he’d done since they’d returned from the Ice Court was to give Kaz the remaining parem . It hadn’t been an easy decision. He was never sure how deep the well inside Kaz was, where to locate the limits of what he would or would not do. But Nina had no hold on Kaz, and when she’d crept into Matthias’ bed the night of the Smeet job, he’d been certain he’d made the right choice because, Djel knew, Matthias had been ready to give her anything she wanted if she would just keep kissing him.
She’d woken him from the dream that had been plaguing him since the Ice Court. One moment he had been wandering in the cold, blind from the snow, wolves howling in the distance, and in the next, he’d been awake, Nina beside him, all warmth and softness. He thought again of what she’d said to him on the ship, when she’d been in the worst grips of the parem. Can you even think for yourself? I’m just another cause for you to follow. First it was Jarl Brum, and now it’s me. I don’t want your cursed oath.
He didn’t think she had meant it, but the words haunted him. As a drüskelle , he’d served a corrupt cause. He could see that now. But he’d had a path, a nation. He’d known who he was and what the world would ask of him. Now he was sure of nothing but his faith in Djel and the vow he’d made to Nina. I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath. Had he simply substituted one cause for another? Was he taking shelter in his feelings for Nina because he was afraid of choosing a future for himself?
Matthias put his mind to rowing. Their fates would not be settled this night, and they had much to do before dawn came. Besides, he liked the rhythm of the canals at night, the streetlamps reflected off the water, the silence, the feeling of passing unseen through the sleeping world, glimpsing a light in a window, someone rising restless from his bed to close a curtain or look out at the city. They tried to come and go from Black Veil as little as possible during the day, so this was the way he’d gotten to know Ketterdam. One night he’d glimpsed a woman in a bejeweled evening gown at her dressing table, unpinning her hair. A man—her husband, Matthias assumed—had stepped behind her and taken over the task, and she’d turned her face up to him and smiled. Matthias couldn’t name the ache he felt in that moment. He was a soldier. So was Nina. They weren’t meant for such domestic scenes. But he’d envied those people and their ease. Their comfortable home, their comfort with each other.
He knew he asked Nina too often, but as they disembarked near East Stave, Matthias couldn’t stop himself from saying, “How do you feel?”
“Quite well,” she said dismissively, adjusting her veil. She was dressed in the glittering blue finery of the Lost Bride, the same costume she’d been wearing the night she and the other members of the Dregs had appeared in his cell. “Tell me, drüskelle , have you ever actually been to this part of the Barrel?”
“I didn’t have much opportunity for sightseeing while I was in Hellgate,” Matthias said. “And I wouldn’t have come here anyway.”
“Of course not. This many people having fun in one place might have shocked the Fjerdan right out of you.”
“Nina,” Matthias said quietly as they made their way to the furrier. He didn’t want to push, but he needed to know. “When we went after Smeet, you used a wig and cosmetics. Why didn’t you tailor yourself?”
She shrugged. “It was easier and faster.”
Matthias was silent, unsure of whether to press her further.
They passed a cheese shop, and Nina sighed. “How can I walk by a window full of wheels of cheese and feel nothing? I don’t even know myself anymore.” She paused, then said, “I tried to tailor myself. Something feels off. Different. I only managed the circles under my eyes, and it took every bit of my focus.”
“But you were never a gifted Tailor.”
“Manners, Fjerdan.”
“Nina.”
“This was different. It wasn’t just challenging, it was painful. It’s hard to explain.”
“What about compelling behaviors?” Matthias asked. “The way you did at the Ice Court when you used the parem .”
“I don’t think it’s possible anymore.”
“Have you tried?”
“Not exactly.”
“Try it on me.”
“Matthias, we have work to do.”
“Try it.”
“I’m not going to go rattling around in your head when we don’t know what might happen.”
“Nina—”
“Fine,” she said in exasperation. “Come here.”
They had nearly reached East Stave and the crowds of revelers had grown thicker. Nina pulled him into an alley between two buildings. She lifted his mask and her own veil; then slowly, she placed a hand on either side of his face. Her fingers slid into his hair and Matthias’ focus shattered. It felt like she was touching him everywhere.
She looked into his eyes. “Well?”
“I don’t feel anything,” he said. His voice sounded embarrassingly hoarse.
She arched a brow. “Nothing?”
“What did you try to make me do?”
“I’m trying to compel you to kiss me.”
“That’s foolish.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I always want to kiss you,” he admitted.
“Then how come you never do?”
“Nina, you just went through a terrible ordeal—”
“I did. That’s true. You know what would help? A lot of kissing. We haven’t been alone since we were aboard the Ferolind .”
“You mean when you almost died?” said Matthias. Someone had to remember the gravity of this situation.
“I prefer to think of the good times. Like when you held my hair as I was vomiting into a bucket.”
“Stop trying to make me laugh.”
“But I like your laugh.”
“Nina, this is not the time to flirt.”
“I need to catch you off your guard, otherwise you’re too busy protecting me and asking me if I’m okay.”
“Is it wrong to worry?”
“No, it’s wrong to treat me like I might break apart at any moment. I’m not that fine or that fragile.” She shoved his mask down none too gently, yanked her veil back in place, and strode past him out of the alley, across the street to a shop with a golden badger over the door.
He followed. He knew he’d said the wrong thing, but he had no idea what the right thing was. A little bell rang as they entered the shop.
“How can this place be open at such hours?” he murmured. “Who wants to buy a coat in the dead of night?”
“Tourists.”
And in fact, a few people were browsing the stacks of furs and pelts. Matthias followed Nina to the counter.
“We’re picking up an order,” Nina said to the bespectacled clerk.
“The name?”
“Judit Coenen.”
“Ah!” the clerk said, consulting a ledger. “Golden lynx and black bear, paid in full. Just a moment.” He vanished into the back room and emerged a minute later, struggling beneath the weight of two huge parcels wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. “Do you need help getting these to—”
“We’re fine.” Matthias hefted the packages with little effort. The people of this city needed more fresh air and exercise.
“But it may rain. At least let me—”
“We’re fine,” Matthias growled, and the clerk took a step backward.
“Ignore him,” Nina said. “He needs a nap. Thank you so much for your help.”
The clerk smiled weakly and they were on their way.
“You know you’re terrible at this, right?” Nina asked once they were on the street and entering East Stave.
“At lies and deception?”
“At being polite.”
Matthias considered. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Just let me do the talking.”
“Nina—”