Crooked Kingdom (The Six of Crows Duology #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,48

of Nina. That was good. If he couldn’t see her from the bridge, then Van Eck wouldn’t be able to either. A few stone steps took him down to a dock where a flower seller was poling his barge full of blossoms into place in the rosy wash of morning light. Matthias exchanged a brief word with the man as he tended to his tulips and daffodils, noting the marks Wylan had chalked above the waterline on both sides of the canal. They were ready.

He made his way up the stairs of the Emporium Komedie, surrounded on all sides by masks and veils and glittering capes. Every floor had a different theme, offering fantasies of all kinds. He was horrified to see a rack of drüskelle costumes. Still, it was a good place to avoid notice.

He hurried to the roof and signaled to Jesper with his mirror. They were all in position now. Just before noon, Wylan would descend to wait in the canal-side café that always drew a noisy collection of street performers—musicians, mimes, jugglers—busking for tourist money. For now, the boy lay on his side, tucked beneath the stone ledge of the roof and dozing lightly. Matthias’ rifle lay bundled in oilcloth beside Wylan, and he’d set out a whole string of fireworks, their fuses curled like mice tails.

Matthias settled his back against the ledge and shut his eyes, floating in and out of consciousness. He was used to these long stretches with little sleep from his time with the drüskelle . He would wake when he needed to. But now, he marched across the ice, the wind howling in his ears. Even the Ravkans had a name for that wind, Gruzeburya , the brute, a killing wind. It came from the north, a storm that engulfed everything in its path. Soldiers died mere steps from their tents, lost in the whiteness, their cries for help eaten by the faceless cold. Nina was out there. He knew it and he had no way to reach her. He screamed her name again and again, feeling his feet going numb in his boots, the ice seeping through his clothes. He strained to hear an answer, but his ears were full of the roar of the storm and somewhere, in the distance, the howl of wolves. She would die on the ice. She would die alone and it would be his fault.

He woke, gasping. The sun was high in the sky. Wylan stood above him, shaking him gently. “It’s almost time.” Matthias nodded and rose, rolling his shoulders, feeling the warm spring air of Ketterdam around him. It felt alien in his lungs. “Are you all right?” Wylan asked tentatively, but apparently Matthias’ glower was answer enough. “You’re great,” Wylan said, and hurried down the stairs.

Matthias consulted the cheap brass watch Kaz had acquired for him. Almost twelve bells. He hoped Nina had rested more easily than he had. He flashed his mirror once at her balcony and felt a surge of relief when a bright light flashed back to him. He signaled to Jesper, then leaned over the roof’s ledge to wait.

Matthias knew Kaz had chosen West Stave for its anonymity and its crowds. Already its denizens had started to come awake again after the previous evening’s revels. The servants who tended to the needs of their various houses were doing their shopping, accepting shipments of wine and fruit for the next night’s activities. Tourists who had just arrived in the city were strolling down both sides of the canal, pointing to the elaborately decorated signs that marked each house, some famous, some notorious. He could see a many-petaled rose fashioned in white wrought iron and gilded with silver. The House of the White Rose. Nina had worked there for nearly a year. He’d never questioned her about her time there. He had no right to. She had stayed in the city to help him, and she could do as she wished. And yet he’d been unable to keep from imagining her there, the curves of her body laid bare, green eyes heavy-lidded, cream-colored petals caught in the dark waves of her hair. There were nights when he imagined her beckoning him closer, others when it was someone else she welcomed in the dark, and he’d lie awake, wondering if it would be jealousy or desire that drove him mad first. He tore his eyes from the sign and pulled a long glass from his pocket, forcing himself to scan