twisted | six of crows

chapter 3 : trust in the process

"Because I need a tidemaker on my team, and you wouldn't want your little secret to get out would you?"

Here I stood, being blackmailed by none other than Kaz Brekker, dirtyhands. I was starting to wonder if my secret had ever been a secret at all. Everyone seemed to know that I was a tidemaker, and that irked me more ways than one.

"For saints sake, is tidemaker written in bold red on my forehead or something?" I gave a frustrated huff. The question itself had been rhetorical but of course Kaz Brekker had always had something to say, "It wasn't the toughest connection to make but anyone who doesn't have the set of skills I do wouldn't be able to figure out said connection." He said, still in that monotonous rasp he has that made me wonder if he was seventeen at all.

"How are we exactly supposed to infiltrate the ice court? And is it just the wraith, you, and I?" I asked him, wanting more details because everything was a hazy fog as of right now.

"I assume you're saying yes to joining then?"

"Answer the damn question Brekker." I snapped at him. I've never been particularly rude or shown any hostility to another person, but Brekker was testing my patience, and If there was one thing I hated, it was being left in the dark.

"You will be briefed later on, and there will be a team. You'll meet them soon enough." He responded vaguely. 

Never had I felt more frustrated at a person than I am now. However, I knew better than to act on it because Kaz Brekker would probably murder me if I so much as insulted him. 

"Fine, I'm in. But only because you promised four million kruge, that's something I can at least work with." I caved.

He looked at me pointedly, "Are you sure it isn't because you're afraid of your identity being released into the open?"  

I tried to keep my face impassive, refusing to express fear, "I could submerge your lungs with water before you get one word out." I looked at him, raising both my arms to prove the point. 

He quirked a brow, looking amused, before he left the room without another word, the tap of his cane against the floorboards ringing in my ear. I knew what I had just done, and I knew this deal would lead to me either becoming four million kruge rich or shoved six feet beneath the ground.

The room suddenly felt damp with fear. what had I just done? 

I had always told myself that Ketterdam wasn't a place to stay, why with dangers lurking at every corner and people with barely any sense of respect. The grasps of death were always an inch closer with every step I took in this city, and its scent was filled with hunger and malice, as if waiting for me to take one wrong step, one wrong move, so that they could finally claim me.

The job Kaz Brekker offered me suddenly lost its appeal. I could die trying to break into the ice court, the most secure place in fjerda. Heck, I could die the minute I stepped onto their land. My kind was not welcomed there. They'd find a reason to question me, capture me, perhaps burn me on the pyre. I've heard stories from my mother, stories of grisha being sentenced to death just because we had these powers. Drusje they would call us. Witch. The tales of fjerdan witch hunters spread through our little town in Novyi Zem, and soon the name Jarl Brum appeared.

I could remember trembling as my mother told me to be cautious, to stay alert and ready as she tucked me in for the night.

"Ma?" I would ask. "Am I dangerous?" Then my mother would smile that sweet smile of hers and shook her head, "No Aya, you're not." 

"Then why are the fjerdans hunting people like me?"

"Because you are special. You were born with a gift Aya. And not all fjerdans are bad, some are just like you. Don't fret Aya, as long as you are nice and kind, and full of thought and care, you will be alright." She'd say, and brush a strand of my hair from my face.