Crooked Kingdom (The Six of Crows Duology #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,179

your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway.

Inej raised a brow and slowly wiped the blood of kings on her trousers.

Dunyasha snarled and launched herself at Inej, slashing and jabbing with one arm, the other pressed to her wound, trying to stanch the bleeding. She’d obviously been trained to fight with just one hand. But she’s never had to fight with an injury , Inej realized. Maybe the monks skipped that lesson. And now that she was wounded, her tell was even more obvious.

They had neared the tip of the church’s main spine. The scrollwork was loose in places here, and Inej adjusted her footing accordingly, dodging Dunyasha’s onslaught easily now, bobbing right and left, taking small victories, a cut here, a jab there. It was a war of attrition, and the mercenary was losing blood quickly.

“You’re better than I thought,” Dunyasha panted, surprising Inej with the admission. Her eyes were dull with pain; the hand at her sternum was slick and red. Still, her posture was erect, her balance steady as they stood mere feet from each other, perched on the high metal spine.

“Thank you,” Inej said. The words felt false in her mouth.

“There is no shame in meeting a worthy opponent. It means there is more to learn, a welcome reminder to pursue humility.” The girl lowered her head, sheathed her knife. She placed a fist over her heart in salute.

Inej waited, guard up. Could the girl mean it? This wasn’t the way you ended a fight in the Barrel, but the mercenary clearly followed her own code. Inej did not want to be forced to kill her, no matter how soulless she seemed.

“I have learned humility,” Dunyasha said, head bowed. “And now you will learn that some are meant to serve. And some are meant to rule.”

Dunyasha’s face snapped up. She unfurled her palm and released a sharp gust of air.

Inej saw a cloud of red dust and recoiled from it, but it was too late. Her eyes were burning. What was it? It didn’t matter. She was blind. She heard the sound of a blade being drawn and felt the slash of a knife. She bobbled backward along the spine, fighting to keep her footing.

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to wipe the dust from her eyes. Dunyasha was nothing but a blurry shape in front of her. Inej held her blade straight out, trying to create distance between them, and felt the mercenary’s knife cut across her forearm. The blade slid from Inej’s fingers and clattered to the rooftop. Sankta Alina, protect me.

But perhaps the Saints had chosen Dunyasha as their vessel. Despite Inej’s prayers and penance, maybe judgment had come at last.

I am not sorry , she realized. She had chosen to live freely as a killer rather than die quietly as a slave, and she could not regret that. She would go to her Saints with a ready spirit and hope they would receive her.

The next slice cut across her knuckles. Inej took another step backward, but she knew she was running out of room. Dunyasha was going to drive her right over the edge.

“I told you, Wraith. I am fearless. My blood flows with the strength of every queen and conqueror who came before me.”

Inej’s foot caught the edge of one of the metal scrolls, and then she understood. She didn’t have her opponent’s training or education or fine white clothes. She would never be as ruthless and she could not wish to be. But she knew this city inside out. It was the source of her suffering and the proving ground for her strength. Like it or not, Ketterdam—brutal, dirty, hopeless Ketterdam—had become her home. And she would defend it. She knew its rooftops the way she knew the squeaky stairs of the Slat, the way she knew the cobblestones and alleys of the Stave. She knew every inch of this city like a map of her heart.

“The girl who knows no fear,” Inej panted as the mercenary’s shape wobbled before her.

Dunyasha bowed. “Goodbye, Wraith.”

“Then learn fear now before you die.” Inej stepped aside, balancing on one foot as Dunyasha’s boot came down on the loose piece of scrollwork.

If the mercenary had not been bleeding, she might have taken better heed of the terrain. If she had not been so eager, she might have righted herself.

Instead, she slipped, tipped forward. Inej saw Dunyasha through the blur of her tears. She hung for a