Six of Crows

Men mock the gods until they need them, Kaz.”

“They fear you as I once feared you,” he said. “As you once feared me. We are all someone’s monster, Nina.”

He thought of Inej’s hand on his cheek. His mind had gone jagged at the sensation, a riot of confusion. It had been terror and disgust and – in all of that clamour – desire, a wish that lingered still, the hope that she would touch him again.

Inej could never be his, not really, but he would find a way to give her the freedom he’d promised her so long ago.

The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.

She had her aim now, her heart had direction, and though it hurt to know that path led away from him, she could endure it.

She could see it took every last bit of his terrible will for him to remain still beneath her touch. And yet, he did not pull away. She knew it was the best he could offer. It was not enough.

She wasn’t going to wait for thanks. Not for the climb, or the gloves, or for anything ever again.

A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, a boy from the Barrel who had become something worse.

He crossed his huge arms. “She’s brave,” he said grudgingly.

“And funny.”

“Foolish. Every last thing needn’t be a joke.”

“Bold,” Inej said.

“Loud.”

“So why do your eyes keep searching the crowd for her?”

“They do not,” Matthias protested. She had to laugh at the ferocity of his scowl. He drew a finger through a pile of crumbs. “Nina is everything you say. It’s too much.”

“Mmm,” Inej murmured, taking a sip from her mug. “Maybe you’re just not enough.”