Crooked Kingdom (The Six of Crows Duology #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,28

he deserved her sympathy, but there was something steady in her that he knew would recognize and ease his own fears. He’d hoped that Kaz would offer to accompany him. But when they’d split up to approach the university, Kaz had spared him only one dark glance. The message had been clear: You dug this grave. Go lie in it. Kaz was still punishing him for the ambush that had nearly ended the Ice Court job before it began, and it was going to take more than Jesper sacrificing his revolvers for him to earn his way back into Kaz’s good graces. Did Kaz even have good graces?

Jesper’s heart beat a little harder as they walked beneath the vast stone archway into the courtyard of the Boeksplein. The university wasn’t one building but a series of them, all built around parallel sections of the Boekcanal and joined by Speaker’s Bridge, where people met to debate or drink a friendly pint of lager, depending on the day of the week. But the Boeksplein was the heart of the university—four libraries built around a central courtyard and the Scholar’s Fountain. It had been nearly two years since Jesper had set foot on university grounds. He’d never officially withdrawn from school. He hadn’t even really decided not to attend. He’d simply started spending more and more time on East Stave, until he looked up one day and realized the Barrel had become his home.

Even so, in his brief time as a student, he’d fallen in love with the Boeksplein. Jesper had never been a great reader. He loved stories, but he hated sitting still, and the books assigned to him for school seemed designed to make his mind wander. At the Boeksplein, wherever his eyes strayed, there was something to occupy them: leaded windows with stained-glass borders, iron gates worked into figures of books and ships, the central fountain with its bearded scholar, and best of all, the gargoyles—bat-winged grotesques in mortarboard caps, and stone dragons falling asleep over books. He liked to think that whoever had built this place had known not all students were suited to quiet contemplation.

But as they entered the courtyard, Jesper didn’t look around to savor the stonework or listen to the splashing of the fountain. All his attention focused on the man standing near the eastern wall, gazing up at the stained-glass windows, a crumpled hat clasped in his hands. With a pang, Jesper realized his father had worn his best suit. He’d combed his Kaelish red hair tidily back from his brow. There was gray in it now that hadn’t been there when Jesper left home. Colm Fahey looked like a farmer on his way to church. Totally out of place. Kaz—hell, anyone in the Barrel—would take one look at him and just see a walking, talking target.

Jesper’s throat felt dry-sand parched. “Da,” he croaked.

His father’s head snapped up and Jesper steeled himself for what might come next—whatever insults or outrage his father hurled at him, he deserved. But he wasn’t prepared for the relieved grin that split his father’s craggy features. Someone might as well have put a bullet right in Jesper’s heart.

“Jes!” his father cried. And then Jesper was crossing the courtyard and his father’s arms were tight around him, hugging him so hard Jesper thought he actually felt his ribs bend. “All Saints, I thought you were dead. They said you weren’t a student here anymore, that you’d just vanished and—I was sure you’d been stuck through by bandits or the like in this Saintsforsaken place.”

“I’m alive, Da,” Jesper gasped. “But if you keep squeezing me like that, I won’t be for long.”

His father laughed and released him, holding him at arm’s length, big hands on Jesper’s shoulders. “I swear you’re a foot taller.”

Jesper ducked his head. “Half a foot. Um, this is Wylan,” he said, switching from Zemeni to Kerch. They’d spoken both at home, his mother’s language and the language of trade. His father’s native Kaelish had been reserved for the rare times Colm sang.

“Nice to meet you. Do you speak Kerch?” his father practically shouted, and Jesper realized it was because Wylan still looked Shu.

“Da ,” he said, cringing in embarrassment. “He speaks Kerch just fine.”

“Nice to meet you, Mister Fahey,” said Wylan. Bless his merch manners.

“And you too, lad. Are you a student as well?”

“I … have studied,” said Wylan awkwardly.

Jesper had no idea how to fill the silence that followed. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from this