Crooked Kingdom (The Six of Crows Duology #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,50

gold—now that surprised Kaz. He’d thought Van Eck would prefer to enter the Barrel with as little pomp as possible. He turned this new information over in his mind.

It was dangerous to ignore the details. No man liked to be shown up, and for all his attempts at a dignified promenade, Van Eck’s vanity had to be wounded. A merch prided himself on his business sense, his ability to strategize, to manipulate men and markets. He’d be looking to get a bit of his own back after having his hand forced by a lowly Barrel thug.

Kaz let his eyes pass over the guards once, briefly, searching for Inej. She was hooded, barely visible between the men Van Eck had brought, but he would have recognized that knife-edge posture anywhere. And if the temptation was there to crane his neck, to look closer, to make sure she was unharmed? He could acknowledge it, set it aside. He would not break his focus.

For the briefest moment, Kaz and Van Eck sized each other up from across the bridge. Kaz couldn’t help but be reminded of when they’d faced each other this way seven days ago. He’d thought too much about that meeting. Late at night, when the day’s work was done, he’d lain awake, taking apart every moment of it. Again and again, Kaz thought of those few crucial seconds when he’d let his attention shift to Inej instead of keeping his eyes on Van Eck. It wasn’t a mistake he could afford to make again. That boy had betrayed his weakness in a single glance, had ceded the war for the sake of a single battle, and put Inej—all of them— in danger. He was a wounded animal who needed to be put down. And Kaz had done it gladly, choked the life from him without pause for regret. The Kaz that remained saw only the job: Free Inej. Make Van Eck pay. The rest was useless noise.

He’d thought about Van Eck’s mistakes on Vellgeluk too. The mercher had been stupid enough to trumpet the fact that his precious heir was cooking in the womb of his new wife—young Alys Van Eck, with her milk-white hair and dumpling hands. He’d been goaded by pride, but also by his hatred for Wylan, his desire to clear his son from the books like a failed business venture.

Kaz and Van Eck exchanged the shortest of nods. Kaz kept a gloved hand on Alys’ shoulder. He doubted she would try to run off, but who knew what ideas were pinging around in the girl’s head? Then Van Eck signaled to his men to bring Inej forward, and Kaz and Alys started across the bridge. In the blink of an eye, Kaz took in Inej’s odd gait, the way she held her arms behind her back. They’d bound her hands and shackled her ankles. A reasonable precaution , he told himself. I’d have done the same thing. But he felt that flint inside him, scraping against the hollow places, ready to ignite into rage. He thought again about simply killing Van Eck. Patience , he reminded himself. He’d practiced it early and often. Patience would bring all his enemies to their knees in time. Patience and the money he intended to take off this merch scum.

“Do you think he’s handsome?” Alys asked.

“What?” Kaz said, unsure he had heard her correctly. She’d been humming and singing all the way from the market where Kaz had removed her blindfold, and he’d been doing his best to tune her out.

“Something has happened to Jan’s nose,” Alys said.

“I suspect he caught a bad case of the Wraith.”

Alys wrinkled her own small nose, considering. “I think Jan would be handsome, if he were not quite so old.”

“Lucky for you, we live in a world where men can make up for being old by being rich.”

“It would be nice if he were both young and rich.”

“Why stop there? How about young, rich, and royal? Why settle for a merch when you could have a prince?”

“I suppose,” said Alys. “But it’s the money that’s important. I’ve never really seen the point in princes.”

Well, no one would ever doubt this girl was Kerch born and raised. “Alys, I’m shocked to find you and I are in agreement.”

Kaz monitored the periphery of the bridge as they drew closer to the center, keeping a careful eye on Van Eck’s guards, noting the open doors of the third-floor balcony at the Ammbers Hotel, the flower barge parked