Better The Devil You Know (Zoya Nazyalensky)

Twenty Two

"Inej, you're hurt."

"Fucking understatement Jesper" Ileska mumbles as she escorts her friend to the relatively safety of an abandoned - they hope - barn.

Kaz watches on in a rare state of paralysis; a boy who commands his own covert operations, who has survived the barrel and claims a pay check with multiple zeros. All this and more still cannot help him protect or save the girl he -. No, still he cannot say the words. Jordy's bloated corpse swims into view, anaemic limbs flailing in some sickening resemblance of a wave. You couldn't even help your own brother.

Ileska is not surprised at the crow's absence; they can work better without the tedious ministrations of Kaz micro-management Brekker.

"We need to get you to a healer" Jesper's face is pale as he scrutinises the knife-inflicted chest wound.
Inej appreciates the sentiment, really she does, but she has suffered and healed from worse wounds than this and with less help.

"No" her tone firm despite the pain, "we don't have the time or the money. Kaz wouldn't like it."

"Fuck Kaz", a rare stroke of anger from the Zemeni boy.

"Whilst I echo that sentiment Fahey" Vieder moves closer to the acrobat, "Inej is right. It would attract too much attention."

"You're a Heartrender Ileska, surely you can do something."

She counts to ten with fingers pincing the bridge of her nose, he's stressed. You can't blame him.

"No, Jesper. Don't you think that I would have tried something by now if I could?"

Indeed, this is a rare case where she would have risked revealing the extent of her small science but the injury hasn't cut the bone. Whilst good for Inej, it also means she is of no use; she never was particularly good with a thread. And when the girl feels redundant, the thoughts in her miserable head cluster and crowd; insipid threads of the mind can only be deterred with the most severe of distractions.

Inej has already begun to patch up her wound, ever resourceful. Barely a wince passes her face as spools weave through skin. It dawns on Jesper slowly, the moment of understanding hitting him heavier than the panther's fist.

"That's grim."

As the two bicker amiably, Ileska loses herself to contemplation; what is she going to do next? Her wild cats need her - she trusts Bertrand, it is perfectionism that drives her back and not suspicion - and she misses the filthy rhythm of Ketterdam. But she wants blood, wants the head of the Black general ripped out through her own means, tendons and all. Has she been a coward for waiting this long, hiding in the barrel like a rat? I was a child, you cannot blame yourself. And yet, shame coats her still. Kerch has made her complacent, unable to exercise her powers to the extent that they deserve - let alone need. In her absence, another saint has been delivered into the monster's hand; Alina Starkov may not know it yet but Kirigan will chain her to his side for eternity. Death would be preferable to such a sentencing. What to do, what to do, what to do. The words of a raven haired squaller tease her; 'I hope we meet again, Bone Witch. I want a rematch.' And who is Ileska Vieder to deny such a wish?

Truth be told, the crows do not need her and she does not need them, such a partnership was only ever temporary. They have failed their original goal - fail: the word burns like acid - so why should she not make the most out of the fucking shambles they find themselves in? I didn't cross the fucking gold again just to limp back home like a wounded dog. The decision is made.

She finds Brekker outside, nursing his sorrows over a burning pyre. "You're leaving aren't you." His statement lacks any attitude, for the older boy is also lost in his mind - his self imposed solitude.

"Yes." Though she dislikes him - a mutual feeling - the boss deserves her honesty at least. "I know you're there Inej."

The Suli girl pushes away the shadows and joins the duo on their wooden exile. "We're you going to leave without telling me?"

"Of course not wraith, I knew you'd hear me."

Ghafa knows it is pointless to change the girl's mind, as much as she wants to. Ileska has done so much for her, maybe letting her leave will finally settle the debt Inej has accrued against her platonic soul mate. "I'll miss you." 

Ilesja tries to form the words, she begs the spittle in her mouth to bend its way into the intent of her animal heart. It does not listen. "We will meet again." A promise is the best she can do, even if the upcoming fight might not leave it fulfilled.

Tears in her eyes, Inej nods "I will tell Jesper."

Ileska snorts, "the damn fool owes me a favour or two. He will understand." And I'd he does not, Ileska will have to bear it as another nock against her arrow of sin.

"Look after her Brekker." Both leaders know Inej requires no looking after but that does not mean she doesn't deserve to be.

He nods, "I look forward to arguing with you when you return."

As she rides off into the wilderness on the rustled stallion, the girl does not look back. This action will have no echo. Not if she can help it, but to do that - she needs a plan so intricate as to fool a man with centuries at his back. No mean feat when she is only two hours behind them, if not less given she travels light. Ileska has never been one for humility, she doesn't see the need for it. No one else would ever praise her (without ulterior motive), nor affirm her right to live. Trust in her own skills, however, does not translate into a complete ignorance of her weaknesses; she was, grisha or not, still human - even if her Fjerdan citizens may beg to differ. The plain truth was that alone, she couldn't take the Darkling; her powers required some semblance of visibility (they had in the past at least), which shadows very much did not adhere to. Unfortunately friends were also not a Panther talent and she had just abandoned her last (albeit reluctant) hopes of aid in the dirt. Which meant - shit. No, she couldn't do that - could she? And yet, how to enlist the help of a literal sunshine and a grumpy storm cloud? With a fuck load of skill and some good lying. And, perhaps, a little bit of luck - if such things existed for the monster's of the world like her.

Well, if she dies enlisting the help of a beautiful woman; it would still be a worthier death than at the hands of a man. It looks like Zoya Nazyalensky is getting her rematch.

A/N
A bit rushed but I've had a busy week! There may be another update this week to compensate if I get time!