Chapter Text
Zoya stepped off the dock onto the streets of Ketterdam. Her blue kefta swayed lightly in the breeze, strands of her dark hair obscuring her view of the troubled city.
"What an ugly city," she said to no one in particular.
"It grows on you," the gentle voice of Inej Ghafa replied from behind her.
Zoya turned around to take a look at the young pirate. Privateer, an unwanted voice whispered in her mind. She gave it a mental shove.
Inej had changed out of her ship trousers and donned a loose dark shirt with matching tights and a fitted coat. Her thick sailors' boots had also been swapped for a pair of black rubber slippers that she rocked back and forth on, her wriggling toes visibly stretching the front of each shoe.
"It smells of death and looks like someone threw a mixture of dirt and dung over every possible surface," she crinkled her nose and began walking into the main streets of the city. After a moment Inej caught up to her.
"It's a work in progress. At least the dead bodies have been cleaned up. Last time I docked here the smell had half my crew emptying their stomachs over the side. This way." Inej led her past a merchant stall and down onto a narrow path she'd barely noticed before.
It was supposed to have been a three day trip on the Wraith to reach Ketterdam, but Zoya had used her sway with the ocean wind to quicken their pace. They had instead arrived after a mere day at sea, well ahead of schedule and therefore without a messenger to greet them.
Zoya noticed Inej sneaking glances at her once again. She had been doing it for the entirety of their trip, since she'd boarded in Ravka, but the looks had doubled in the past day alone. It seemed Zoya had run out of time to find a way to avoid the inevitable questioning.
"So, General... are you ready to talk about it?
"I hired you to be my guide, not to talk or ask questions." The path thinned even further, forcing them into a line, Zoya a step behind her guide.
Inej smiled. "I can do both."
"I'd advise you not to if you like having a tongue."
"Well, if at any point you feel like talking about the fact that you're here and not back in Ravka supporting your king on his wedding day, do let me know."
Zoya clenched her teeth and sent out a whip of air to trip the girl as she walked ahead of her.
lnej slid for a moment before gracefully regaining her pace. Belatedly Zoya remembered she had been an acrobat once.
Inej continued, "though I do appreciate your help taking down those two slave ships during our time at sea, I think you may be missed."
"I'm a General, not Nikolai's personal hand holder. My time is better spent focusing on the war we've yet to win."
"I doubt one day's delay would have made a difference."
"And that is why I am General and you are not."
Inej pursed her lips for a moment, then continued hesitantly. "Before we set sail Genya sought me out to give me a letter for Nina. We spoke for a while and she mentioned a few things... about the king, and about you." Zoya looked up sharply and she quickly added, "nothing important! She just mentioned that you two were the reason Ravka has grown so much over the last seven years. That she had hope again for her country, knowing that it was in the hands of a capable king... and a fierce queen."
Inej stopped walking and turned to face the raven haired woman she had grown a strange fondness for, despite her iciness. "I think I understand why you are here. Maybe if I were you I would be here too. I don't know what your choices were, and why you chose this one - the one that takes you away from any others, but I do know that being here right now will only make it harder for you to face the feelings you're hiding from.
"May the Saints help you find peace, Zoya." A dark look crossed over the General, but she said nothing. They walked onwards.
The path ended in front of a crooked door which Inej rapped on three times with her slender knuckles. In the middle of the door, a hole appeared and two brown eyes peered through.
"Wraith! You're back!" The door slid open abruptly and a dark haired woman swept the young sailor up into a hug.
"Anika! It's good to see you well again!" She laughed as they pulled apart to clasp arms. "How's your wound?"
"All healed up. Come on in, you've come at a great time - everyone's upstairs in a meeting with Kaz." She seemed to notice Zoya finally and added, "you a new crew member?"
"She's -.”
"That's right, I'm the new recruit healer." Zoya cut in, channelling her king's best disarming smile. Inej frowned but didn't contradict her.
"Well, come in too then." Anika led them through the dusty hall into the main living area of the Dregs. They received a few curious looks from the men and women lounging around as they continued up a creaky staircase. Zoya spotted flecks of what looked like dried blood splattered on the walls and steps.
As they reached the landing Anika signalled for them to wait and headed to the furthermost door, knocking swiftly. The door opened a crack and after a quickly whispered conversation, she nodded for them to go in.
Zoya marched ahead of a startled Inej and entered to find a ragtag crew of misfits, and Nina.
"Zoya?!" Nina leapt up from her place by the window. "INEJ!!" Like magnets they flew across the room, Nina picking the smaller girl up and spinning them around, squealing. Zoya took the moment to take in the rest of the room.
Behind a messy desk, the infamous Kaz Brekker had stood up, gloved hands reaching for his cane. On one side of him on an old chaise sat two familiar looking young men, and on the other sat a young woman with honey brown skin. Zoya assumed she was the girl Nina had mentioned in her correspondence, Hanne, the daughter of Jarl Brum. She stared at Zoya with a shell shocked look that the general was far too used to seeing. She turned back to the Ketterdam wretch.
"Brekker."
"General Nazyalensky. To what do we owe this visit?"
Nina and Inej paused in their excitement to watch the encounter. Kaz's eyes flicked to Inej, who returned his look, communicating something briefly with her eyes alone.
"I've come on behalf of Ravka and the King," she said. It was a half truth.
"I see."
"I'm here to make a trade. We need ships. A lot of them. And you, Brekker, have what we need."
His eyes glittered. "I don't know what you've heard, but I don't have any ships. I'm afraid you've travelled a long way for nothing."
Zoya smiled at him dangerously. "Oh saints," muttered Nina.
"Do you know what I did to the last person who tried to play me?" She made a show of casually leaning back against the wall opposite the thief. The bricks around her crackled, veins running electric blue.
"Probably similar to what happens to those who attempt to threaten me in my own home, General," he growled back.
Nina sighed, deciding to intervene. "As fun as it might be to watch you both try and kill each other, and as much as I'd love to take bets for it," she paused, thinking hard. "And hire a venue for the event, make ticket prices sky high, earn a fortune from profits and retire young to the country, eating waffles every- ”
Inej cleared her throat loudly.
Nina started. "Right... You're like a week early so I hadn't yet gotten the chance to speak to everyone - wait, why aren't you at -" she rambled on after seeing Zoya's glare. "Never mind. About a month ago I was thinking about the troubles Wylan's been having with his business, and I saw an opportunity for both Ravka and the Van Eck group to make a mutually beneficial deal."
"A deal for what?" asked Inej warily.
"I hadn't thought of that yet," Nina admitted sheepishly. "But I knew someone back home could use the information to Ravka's benefit, so I sent General Nazyalensky a missive, and two weeks later I received an order to return to Kerch. I don't know much more except that I needed to get you on board too Kaz, because of your involvement in certain trade deals you and Wylan are working on."
"I'm listening," he drawled.
"Here we go," said the dark skinned boy who was now half laying on the couch. He looked from Kaz to the scrawny boy sitting beside him. "Scheming face."
The scrawny boy pushed back the mess of brown curls on his head and stood up tall and firm. "I'm Wylan Van Eck. Tell me," he said. "What can you do for me in exchange for my ships?"
Zoya's eyes narrowed. Like Kaz, this boy was more than what met the eye. "Okay Van Eck. Let's talk."
~~~~~~~~~
The talks between the Dregs and Zoya had lasted until sundown, after which everyone had wearily retired to their rooms. Zoya herself felt exhausted. It was a blissful distraction that left her much too tired to think about a certain golden haired fool, or her own rash actions.
She had opted to return to the ship rather than seek out lodgings within the city. Inej had given her directions and promised to join her soon, citing a need to discuss personal business with Brekker first.
"Take some time to learn the streets," she'd said. "Just don't stray out of Dregs' territory and you shouldn't be bothered on your way back. I'll find you when I'm done."
Zoya had nodded at the time but a restless part of her was hoping to be crossed, if only to give her a reason to use her fists.
The streets were still busy, lit up with lanterns and torches fastened to the walls of passing buildings. She passed by tricksters and shops full of glass objects that glittered. On another street everywhere her eye met were stalls selling savoury meats still sizzling on their spits, and sweets of all colours that she'd never tried before. Nikolai would have loved it. She felt sure he would have goaded her into trying some of the more unique ones.
Perhaps with him by her side the leers from the men she passed would have been less obvious too. She had already tripped two men who had ventured too close and was considering whether to do the same, or worse, to a third who had begun to follow her footsteps.
Zoya didn't mind the appreciative look or smile, she knew her face drew eyes, but there were always some who pushed the boundaries. These she would give a harsh reminder to.
Through her peripheral vision, she saw the man following her had crept closer still, a mere five steps away now. Her pulse quickened from the prospect of a potential conflict but she schooled her expression to remain unbothered and focused her gaze on the trinkets in each stall.
'Knives or fists?' she wondered. Perhaps she'd let him close enough and decide after his intentions became clear. 'Yes,' she thought savagely. But first she needed to find somewhere quieter.
Ahead she glimpsed the alleyway Inej had taken her through. She kept her pace steady as she headed towards it.
'Careful... eyes alone deceive. Listen to your surroundings and feel the earth beneath you...' the voice of Juris breathed quietly within her.
She increased her alertness, scanning her surroundings discreetly. What was she missing?
Almost immediately the shadow of a second figure hugging the edge of the street came into view. She then tapped into the movement of the wind, listening for a push or pull in its direction, just as Juris had been teaching her to.
She felt a jolt of surprise to find two more assailants scaling the crumbling walls of the buildings she passed, the wind rushing against them.
Berating herself for missing so much, she took heed of her mentor's final tip. Zoya marked her footsteps, and increased her awareness of the stones and gravel beneath her boots. As a fabrikator might do. One, two, three, four, five. Pause.
Behind her, three pairs of boots paused their heavy footfalls also.
A thrill passed through her. She was being hunted by five people. 'Humans hunting a dragon in disguise,' she thought. 'I almost feel sorry for them.'
The two on the wall she could easily fell. One shock and they would each lose their footing, tumbling heavily down to the ground. She would have to keep one of the ones on the ground alive and well enough to talk. The final two would make for good sport.
As she passed into the alleyway she centred her thoughts on the two torches lining each side of the entrance. Five heartbeats. On the fifth she flared them, engaging her winds to feed the flame brighter and larger into the shape of a wall. The yells of agony from one of the men reached her ears as he was hit by the blast of heat and fire.
She fed one flame higher until it touched a windowsill, letting the wall fall. A pool of power boiled hot within her. One spark. She clicked her fingers and the air vibrated as the men on the walls jolted and buzzed audibly before falling to the earth with two sickening thuds.
Zoya swivelled around, expecting to find the final two men advancing. Instead, just one figure appeared before her. Like the others he wore a rounded brown cap that sunk low onto his face, and a dark, filthy shirt with trousers that had seen better days. The skin of his face was pale, smudged with grime. There was no time to wonder if his companion had fled or was waiting to reappear.
"Grisha filth," he spat at her, reaching for something from behind his back. Zoya tsked and pounced on him.
He fell to the hard ground as her fists landed, each hit carefully aimed and executed to disarm without damaging her attacker too badly. She had to save something for the questioning, after all. He'd piqued her interest with his little remark.
The grisha warrior snarled as she was forced to dodge a kick aimed at her stomach. He took the opportunity to push her off, regaining his footing and pulling out the gun he'd been reaching for earlier.
Amidst the struggle his cap had loosened, revealing a lock of wavy, ash blonde hair.
He was Fjerdan.
The first shot rung through the air but Zoya was ready for it, sending a sweeping burst of wind crashing back towards him. The bullet careened backwards through the air and lodged itself into the barrel of the gun, melting through its metal viciously.
The Fjerdan shouted as it burned the tips of his fingers, tossing it away angrily.
Zoya smiled and blinked sweetly. "Its not very proper of you to bring a gun to a fist fight. I guess that means I get to use my own little tricks." She wriggled her fingers at him.
Juris had only just started training her to manipulate water, but she had been picking up the basics well. Why not test how far she could push her abilities?
'No. Finish him. You've had your fun already.'
Ignoring the voice, she breathed in deeply, and as she exhaled she summoned her storm. Clouds roiled above them, and she commanded their attention. She gripped them, squeezing and shaping the chaos within, taking out her blade as the water coalesced and froze, a formation of power. Her winds blew ice cold and her enemy shouted once more, covering his face, voice lost in the storm.
Zoya's eyes glowed blue as she stilled.
She then lifted her blade, hilt upwards, and drove it down into the ground before her. Across her, a blade of ice plunged into the chest of the Fjerdan soldier.
She smothered his scream ruthlessly, sucking the air from his lungs, and prowled slowly towards him, sheathing her blade as she went.
"Look at you now, all bloody and muddy. So filthy," she tutted crouching down beside him.
The exertion from moulding the blade of ice out of mist had her breathing heavily, and her hands had begun to shake. She needed to leave quickly. But not before she had some answers.
Juris sneered at her, 'If you were truly ready you would know your limits.' She wiped her brow with the sleeve of her dull blue kefta.
"Tell me Fjerdan, what are you doing so far from home?" He turned his head, clawing at his chest as if to pull out the blade. She pointed a threatening finger at him, slow as ever. "Tell me."
"H-hunting witches like you," he coughed out.
"How many of you are there? Who leads you?"
"You'll never win. Jarl Brum has weapons and armies you-you could n-never imagine-"
"Where is Brum now?" She grabbed his collar. Curse her for being reckless with her powers. He was dying too fast, and he knew it. He would die with his knowledge kept safe from her.
The soldier laughed, blood splattering his chin as his cough worsened. "T-too l-late-”
"Answer me!
But her ice blade had been too effective and his blood flowed out freely, staining the ground. He coughed viciously once more, then stilled.
She stood up and began to turn away.
All Zoya saw next was a glint of yellowed teeth and then she was grappling with her attacker as a cloth smothered her nose and mouth. In the gloom of the night light she fought, but the poison she'd inhaled from the cloth was fast acting and she could feel as it seeped into her limbs. Her struggles grew heavier and panic seized her. How could she have forgotten the fifth attacker?
Her vision blurred and she lost feeling in her hands, the numbness spreading further down through her legs.
The last thing she saw as the hand over her face loosened was the tail end of a gleaming black plait whipping through the air before her. Then she fell, embracing the darkness.