Crooked Kingdom (The Six of Crows Duology #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,47

of the fun. Let’s practice.”

“Practice?”

“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” Nina said in a singsong voice.

Matthias stared at her. “Is it possible you’re running a fever?”

Nina shoved her veil up onto her head so he could experience the full force of her glare. “It’s from the Komedie Brute. When Mister Crimson comes onstage, the audience shouts—”

“Mother, Father, pay the rent,” Matthias finished.

“Exactly. Then you say, ‘I can’t, my dear, the money’s spent,’ and you toss a handful of coins into the crowd.”

“Why?”

“The same reason everyone hisses at the Madman and throws flowers at the Scarab Queen. It’s tradition. Tourists don’t always get it, but the Kerch do. So tonight, if someone yells, ‘Mother, Father, pay the rent …’ ”

“I can’t, my dear, the money’s spent,” Matthias intoned gloomily, casting a handful of coins into the air.

“You have to do it with more enthusiasm,” Nina urged. “It’s supposed to be fun.”

“I feel foolish.”

“It’s good to feel foolish sometimes, Fjerdan.”

“You only say that because you have no shame.”

To his surprise, instead of offering a sharp retort, she went silent and remained that way until they took up their first position in front of a gambling parlor on the Lid, joining the musicians and buskers, only a few doors down from Club Cumulus. Then it was as if someone had flipped a switch in Nina.

“Come one, come all to the Crimson Cutlass!” she declared. “You there, sir. You’re too skinny for your own good. What would you think of a little free food and a flagon of wine? And you, miss, now you look like you know how to have a bit of fun… .”

Nina lured tourists to them one by one as if she’d been born to it, offering free food and drink and handing out costumes and flyers. When one of the bouncers from the gambling parlor emerged to see what they were up to, they moved along, heading south and west, continuing to give away the two hundred costumes and masks Kaz had procured. When people asked what it was all about, Nina claimed it was a promotion for a new gambling hall called the Crimson Cutlass.

As Nina had predicted, occasionally someone would spot Matthias’ costume and shriek, “Mother, Father, pay the rent!”

Dutifully, Matthias replied, doing his best to sound jolly. If the tourists and revelers found his performance lacking, no one said so, possibly distracted by the showers of silver coins.

By the time they reached West Stave, the stacks of costumes were gone and the sun was rising. He caught a brief flash from the roof of the Ammbers Hotel—Jesper signaling with his mirror.

Matthias escorted Nina up to the room reserved for Judit Coenen on the third floor of the hotel. Just as Kaz had said, the balcony had a perfect view of the wide expanse of Goedmedbridge and the waters of West Stave, bordered on both sides by hotels and pleasure houses.

“What does that mean?” Matthias asked. “Goedmedbridge?”

“Good maiden bridge.”

“Why is it called that?”

Nina leaned against the doorway and said, “Well, the story is that when a woman found out her husband had fallen in love with a girl from West Stave and planned to leave her, she came to the bridge and, rather than live without him, hurled herself into the canal.”

“Over a man with so little honor?”

“You’d never be tempted? All the fruits and flesh of West Stave before you?”

“Would you throw yourself off a bridge for a man who was?”

“I wouldn’t throw myself off a bridge for the king of Ravka.”

“It’s a terrible story,” said Matthias.

“I doubt it’s true. It’s just what happens when you let men name the bridges.”

“You should rest,” he said. “I can wake you when it’s time.”

“I’m not tired, and I don’t need to be told how to do my job.”

“You’re angry.”

“Or told how I feel. Get to your post, Matthias. You’re looking a little ragged around those gilded edges too.”

Her voice was cold, her spine straight. The memory of the dream came at him so hard he could almost feel the bite of the wind, the snow lashing his cheeks in stinging gusts. His throat burned, scraped raw as he shouted Nina’s name. He wanted to tell her to be careful. He wanted to ask her what was wrong.

“No mourners,” he murmured.

“No funerals,” she replied, her eyes trained on the bridge.

Matthias left quietly, descended the stairs, and crossed over the canal via the wide expanse of Goedmedbridge. He looked up at the balcony of the Ammbers Hotel but saw no sign