Natasha Van Doren is a shadow summoner. She bides her time and resides in darkness, feared and esteemed by Ketterdam's civilians, a ghost . She cons Kaz Brekker into joining a heist he can't refuse and with thirty million kruge on the line, the crow...
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"It's cold,"
Natasha Van Doren poked a toe into the water, immediately racing back up the bank. Winter had descended upon Ketterdam, thick and starved to destroy everything in its palm.
She never would have come down to the river if it hadn't been for Jordie and Kaz Rietveld.
"It's supposed to be cold," Jordie cried. With his head beneath the water, he paddled up the entire length of the river, hardly shivering as he emerged from beneath the surface. His dark hair was flat against his face, eyes obscured.
"I'm not going in," Natasha riposted, crossing her arms over her chest. Night's cloak had shifted over the sky, purple and black blossoming like wildflowers over a canvas of a bleak stellar night. "I'll freeze to death,"
"No, you won't," Jordie groaned, tugging at Natasha's elbow. "Come on, Kaz, tell her the water is alright,"
Kaz Rietveld sat on the edge of the bank, looking thoughtfully at the meandering river. His brother's coat was thrown over his shoulder, shielding him from the insulting wind.
"Natasha's right," Kaz huffed. He dipped his middle finger into the river, grimacing. "It's too cold,"
"I just swam in there!" Jordie said. "You guys are just babies," He rolled his eyes, sinking back beneath the surface.
***
THE FALL WAS IMPOSSIBLY LONG. Time itself seemed to drawl, suspending Natasha in the air. The wind lashed at her clothes and skin, punishing her body in a fresh scatter of flowering bruises.
However, Natasha would have patronised all her luck to stay delayed in time forever. Five heavy splashes erupted around her; for a frantic moment, Natasha thought that she was dead.
They all sunk beneath the surface like skimmed pebbles, limbs tangling in the roaring current. The water was a glacial snake, twisting over their necks and smothering them. Her vision fogged, and she didn't protest as slender fingers gripped tightly at her chin, forcing a disc between her lips.
Natasha bit down hard, oxygen overwhelming her lungs. She wanted to cry out, to hear a comforting voice over the thunderous water. Natasha had known of the river long before the plan came to Brekker. It had been a fascination of the Ravkans and an enigma efficiently resolved by Natasha.
The ice palace had been constructed around a spring. Djel had been feeding the roots of their sacred ash. Some part of Natasha was numbly proud. A piece of her always knew Kaz Brekker would find a way. No matter how dirty or perverse, Dirtyhands would see the rough work done.
