Crooked Kingdom (The Six of Crows Duology #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,150

gallows, his father would at least have a chance to escape unharmed. Colm had spent hours with Nina and Kaz trying to learn his role, running through different scenarios, enduring their endless questions and prodding without complaint. Colm wasn’t much of an actor, and he lied about as well as Jesper danced ballet. But Nina would be with him. That had to count for something.

The lift opened and they entered another vast purple-and-white hallway, then followed the sound of running water to a room with a large circular pool at its center, surrounded by a colonnade of arches. Through them, Jesper could see more pools and waterfalls, coves and alcoves, every solid surface decorated in glittering indigo tiles. Now this Jesper could get used to: pools of steaming water, fountains dancing and burbling like guests at a party, piles of thick towels and sweet-smelling soaps. A place like this belonged in the Barrel, where it could be properly appreciated, not in the middle of the financial district.

They’d been told they would be meeting with only two members of the Triumvirate, but three people stood by the pool. Jesper knew the one-eyed girl in the red-and-blue kefta must be Genya Safin, and that meant the shockingly gorgeous girl with the thick fall of ebony hair was Zoya Nazyalensky. They were accompanied by a fox-faced man in his twenties wearing a teal frock coat, brown leather gloves, and an impressive set of Zemeni revolvers slung around his hips. If these people were what Ravka had to offer, maybe Jesper should consider a visit.

“We told the Grisha to come alone,” said Kaz.

“I’m afraid that wasn’t possible,” said the man. “Though Zoya is, of course, a force to be reckoned with, Genya’s extraordinary gifts are ill-suited to physical confrontation. I, on the other hand, am well suited to all forms of confrontation, though I’m particularly fond of the physical.”

Kaz’s eyes narrowed. “Sturmhond.”

“He knows me!” Sturmhond said delightedly. He nudged Genya with an elbow. “I told you I’m famous.”

Zoya blew out an exasperated breath. “Thank you. He’s going to be twice as insufferable now.”

“Sturmhond has been authorized to negotiate on behalf of the Ravkan throne,” said Genya.

“A pirate?” asked Jesper.

“Privateer,” Sturmhond corrected. “You can’t expect the king to participate in an auction like this himself.”

“Why not?”

“Because he might lose. And it looks very bad when kings lose.”

Jesper couldn’t quite believe he was having a conversation with the Sturmhond. The privateer was a legend. He’d broken countless blockades on behalf of the Ravkans, and there were rumors that … “Do you really have a flying ship?” blurted Jesper.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I have several.”

“Take me with you.”

Kaz didn’t look remotely entertained. “The Ravkan king lets you negotiate for him in matters of state?” he asked skeptically.

“Occasionally,” said Sturmhond. “Especially if less than savory personages are involved. You have a reputation, Mister Brekker.”

“So do you.”

“Fair enough. So let’s say we’ve both earned the right to have our names bandied about in the worst circles. The king won’t drag Ravka into one of your schemes blindly. Nina’s note claimed that you have Kuwei Yul-Bo in your possession. I want confirmation of that fact, and I want the details of your plan.”

“All right,” said Kaz. “Let’s talk in the solarium. I’d prefer not to sweat through my suit.” When the rest of them made to follow, Kaz halted and glanced over his shoulder. “Just me and the privateer.”

Zoya tossed her glorious black mane and said, “We are the Triumvirate. We do not take orders from Kerch street rats with dubious haircuts.”

“I can phrase it as a question if it will make your feathers lie flat,” Kaz said.

“You insolent—”

“Zoya,” said Sturmhond smoothly. “Let’s not antagonize our new friends before they’ve even had a chance to cheat us. Lead on, Mister Brekker.”

“Kaz,” Wylan said. “Can’t you—”

“Negotiate for yourself, merchling. It’s time you learned how.” He vanished with Sturmhond back into the corridors.

As their footfalls faded, silence descended. Wylan cleared his throat and the sound bounced around the blue-tiled room like a spring colt let loose in a corral. Genya’s face was bemused.

Zoya crossed her arms. “Well?”

“Ma’am …” Wylan attempted. “Miss Genya—”

Genya smiled, her scars tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, he is sweet.”

“You always take to the strays,” said Zoya sourly.

“You’re the boy Nina tailored to look like Kuwei,” Genya said. “And you want me to try to undo her work?”

“Yes,” Wylan said, that one word imbued with a whole world of hope. “But I don’t have anything to bargain with.”

Genya rolled her