Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason. Those were the words whispered on the streets of Ketterdam - but that didn't mean that he never had one.
The Shu Serpent rears her head and slithers from the shadows when a high paying job catches her prying eyes a...
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Zhen Kir-Saran had a particular type of subtle beauty, like a forest fire. She was a woman to be observed from afar, unless you liked the risk of getting burnt.
She looked young, far too young to be regarded with such respect; a youthful face with a hardened stare, piercing golden eyes and something old and cracking on the inside only to be seen by those who had been through what she had - her entire being was weighed down by the ghosts of her past, making her feel too old for the set of bones she had on her.
Zhen was filled with the deaths of other people, like a sentient and walking haunted cathedral.
Jordie, her mother, the girls at the Willow who had died far too early... Aneli. Marie. Brynn.
She never forgot. Just names now, and hollow memories.
Being just seventeen had it's advantages; people always underestimated the young. The innocent looking ones. And it was only when they got close enough to ensnare did they realise their fatal mistake too late.
Zhen was not a woman to be underestimated or overlooked.
The girl sat in the centre of the Crow Club at a poker table. The traditional emerald satin dress clung to her form and hung looser around her legs - short sleeves, a collar pinned with ornate, black hooked latched in a diagonal line across her heart - the embroidered falcons and patterns in flight along the fabric told stories.
She was not afraid to show off her culture now - it had been forced upon her in fake, sinister ways as a child; the fake satin, the cheap hair pins, the acrid scent of incense that burnt her nostrils and clung to her skin like perfume.
The girl sat at the cards table now had a straight back, ebony hair coiled and fixed in place with a white pearl hair pin. Her slanted eyes were sharp, attentive, golden. Her lips were painted black, an array of mismatched rings along her lithe, quick fingers. (All stolen at one point in a time, but no one needed to know that except the Zemeni boy sat beside her.)
A nudge made the girl look up from her hand of cards, sharp eyes shooting to the boy next to her who, while she was playing, was set to be her lookout.
Jesper, despite always having an upbeat air of confidence about him seemed to find Zhen unsettling. She was brilliant, he'd admit. But she had a deceiving air about her that no one could gauge.
"Inej is back."
Jesper jutted his chin in the direction of the stairs, where Zhen spotted a slim, cloaked figure standing in the shadows. The bottom half of her face was covered by a thin slip of fabric tinged a deep purple shade that she could recognise anywhere.
She had sat leant back with her boots up on the edge of the table, but owered them as she placed her cards face down.
The three other men at the table did so, following her movement. The regulars knew not to question it.
