Six of Crows (Six of Crows #1) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,191
kefta from the Healer. She kept her face blank, but I could tell it pained her to part with it.
Before I could decide whether or not to offer her my bloodstained coat, Ivan tapped the roof and the coach began to slow. The Healer didn’t even wait for it to stop moving before she opened the door and swung outside.
Ivan pulled the door shut. The oprichnik slipped back into the seat beside me, and we were on our way once more.
“Where is she going?” I asked.
“Back to Kribirsk,” replied Ivan. “We’ll travel faster with less weight.”
“You look heavier than she does,” I muttered.
“Put on the kefta,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s made with Materialki corecloth. It can withstand rifle fire.”
I stared at him. Was that even possible? There were stories of Grisha withstanding direct gunshots and surviving what should have been fatal wounds. I’d never taken them seriously, but maybe Fabrikator handiwork was the truth behind those peasant tales.
“Do you all wear this stuff?” I asked as I pulled on the kefta.
“When we’re in the field,” said an oprichnik. I nearly jumped. It was the first time either of the guards had spoken.
“Just don’t get shot in the head,” Ivan added with a condescending grin.
I ignored him. The kefta was far too large. It felt soft and unfamiliar, the fur lining warm against my skin. I chewed my lip. It didn’t seem fair that oprichniki and Grisha wore corecloth while ordinary soldiers went without. Did our officers wear it, too?
The coach picked up speed. In the time it had taken for the Healer to do her work, dusk had begun to fall and we had left Kribirsk behind. I leaned forward, straining to see out the window, but the world outside was a twilight blur. I felt tears threatening again and blinked them back. A few hours ago, I’d been a frightened girl on my way into the unknown, but at least I’d known who and what I was. With a pang, I thought of the Documents Tent. The other surveyors might be at their work right now. Would they be mourning Alexei? Would they be talking about me and what had happened on the Fold?
I clutched the crumpled army-issue coat I had bundled up on my lap. Surely this all had to be a dream, some crazy hallucination brought on by the terrors of the Shadow Fold. I couldn’t really be wearing a Grisha’s kefta, sitting in the Darkling’s coach—the same coach that had almost crushed me only yesterday.
Someone lit a lamp inside the coach, and in the flickering light I could better see the silken interior. The seats were heavily cushioned black velvet. On the windows, the Darkling’s symbol had been cut into the glass: two overlapping circles, the sun in eclipse.
Across from me, the two Grisha were studying me with open curiosity. Their red kefta were of the finest wool, embroidered lavishly in black and lined in black fur. The fair-haired Heartrender was lanky and had a long, melancholy face. Ivan was taller, broader, with wavy brown hair and sun-bronzed skin. Now that I bothered to look, I had to admit he was handsome. And knows it, too. A big handsome bully.
I shifted restlessly in my seat, uncomfortable with their stares. I looked out the window, but there was nothing to see except the growing darkness and my own pale reflection. I looked back at the Grisha and tried to quash my irritation. They were still gawking at me. I reminded myself that these men could make my heart explode in my chest, but eventually I just couldn’t stand it.
“I don’t do tricks, you know,” I snapped.
The Grisha exchanged a glance.
“That was a pretty good trick back in the tent,” Ivan said.
I rolled my eyes. “Well, if I plan on doing anything exciting, I promise to give fair warning so just … take a nap or something.”
Ivan looked affronted. I felt a little snap of fear, but the fair-haired Corporalnik let out a bark of laughter.
“I am Fedyor,” he said. “And this is Ivan.”
“I know,” I replied. Then, picturing Ana Kuya’s disapproving glare, I added, “Very pleased to meet you.”
They exchanged an amused glance. I ignored them and wriggled back in my seat, trying to get comfortable. It wasn’t easy with two heavily armed soldiers taking up most of the room.
The coach hit a bump and jolted forward.
“Is it safe?” I asked. “To be traveling at night?”
“No,” Fedyor said. “But it would be considerably more dangerous to stop.”