𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 | 𝐒𝐨𝐂

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. 𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒

"Graham," The boy sounded close to tears. "Graham Doyle,"

"Graham," Natasha purred. She traced her fingertip across Graham's stubbly jaw. He was no older than she was. His gun rested oddly in the crook of his elbow. "You've got a twin, haven't you?" She grinned, relishing the fear sinking behind his eyes.

"How do you know?"

Natasha shrugged, picking another piece of stubborn blood from benath her fingernail. "I and Gretel, go long back. She's a durast, like your mother and father,"

Natasha tilted Graham's chin to look him in the eye. "The family failure," She said scornfully. "You couldn't even grow a beard, let alone be Grisha,"

A tear rolled down Graham's cheek. "Now, don't cry," Natasha said maliciously. "You can cry in the arms of your daddy, but not in front of me," She thumbed away the tear beneath his eye. "Well?" Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you not going to shoot me?"

 She tipped her finger beneath the gun's barrel, directing it at her heart. The breath tensed in Graham's throat. "Are you scared, Graham?"

"No?" His voice trembled, his finger shaking on the trigger.

"Then why can't you shoot me?" Natasha laughed, a trickle of darkness bleeding from the corner of her mouth. "What happened to the honour of your king?" Graham fumbled with the weapon, poking it harder into Natasha's ribs.

"I don't want to kill you," Graham whimpered.

Natasha rolled her shoulders back with a laugh. "I knew it," She clapped her hands, light returning to the quay. The soldiers blinked, negligent of the other sneaking towards the Ferolind. "You didn't have the fucking nerve,"

Natasha turned her back, turning toward the schooner.

"But I do,"

A single bullet gracefully shot through the air, cutting across the sky with the force of a harpoon. The Grisha steel glinted wickedly in the sinister sun. Smoke blossomed out the barrel of Nikolai Lantsov's gun as he stood at the front of the crowd, holding a black pistol limply in his hand.

"Natasha," Alessia cried out. The Shu attempted to jump the railing and reach her best friend before the bullet could deliver a kiss of death.

"No," Kaz whispered through gritted teeth. He grabbed onto Alessia's collar pulling her back. "Don't go after her,"

The bullet wedged into Natasha's shoulder, her stained lips parting in shock. The girl fell forward, her cheek pressed against the rocky shore.

Alessia shrieked in pain, clutching onto Inej's arm. "Natasha," She whimpered over and over again. "Saints, is she dead? Please don't be dead, please Natty, don't die," Inej slumped against the side of the schooner, tears beading in her eyes.

Inej Ghafa sheathed several hidden knives from beneath the floorboard of the schooner angling them all in her palm. If she timed it correctly she could strike Nikolai Lantsov in the heart. She looked up at Kaz to deliver the order, but he was still. 

 "She's gone," Kaz reiterated, taking the knives from her hand and stabbing them into the railing.

Kaz paced the deck. "Keep your promise, Lantsov," Kaz mumbled, his knuckles white. He tugged at the ends of his dark hair and bit his lower lip feverishly. "Keep her alive,"

Nikolai Lantsov presented to do no such thing. The Ravkan king stepped forward - a gun proudly cocked in his palm. He addressed the crowd with a dazzling royal smile, definitely not the smirk of a supposed murderer.