𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 | 𝑘.𝑏.

07

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W E L C O M E T O H E L L S H O W
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MUZZEN CHATTED ENTHUSIASTICALLY WHILST ROWING, his broad shoulders working underneath the harsh orange of his Madman cape. Kaz donned an identical get up, the Madman mask of a monstrously hooked nose and bulging eyes sitting atop his head, though he offered less conversation. Dressed in a green so dark it was nearly black until it caught in lantern light, Feta looked like quite the beetle, eagerly returning Muzzen's tittering. How is she so fine waltzing into Hellgate?

But Nina had seen Feta perform, flanked by adoring shouts of Siren! Siren! and decorated in flowing silks, and it wouldn't be the least bit surprising if Feta's perpetually graceful movements resulted in her accidentally twirling through the most cutthroat prison in Kerch.

"I'd make a great Mister Crimson!" Muzzen insisted with a wide smile on his face.

Feta laughed, the usually clear, cheery sound blanketed by the thick walls of fog, trapping the melody on the boat. If Nina wasn't already in a bad mood, this fog would have been the last straw. Something about it just seemed off. The smells shifted from the stench of tar and machinery from the shipyards on Imperjum to the sweet stink of incinerated bodies from Reaper's Barge — but weirder, still, was that every time Nina caught a whiff of corpses, the smell was suddenly filtered out for saltwater and a sea breeze and the heavy, content smell of the earth after it rained. Besides, while fog usually distorted lights, perhaps muffled one's movements, this fog seemed to truly encase their little rowboat.

"Oh, I agree. I think you'd look quite dashing in red," Feta said conspiratorially, appraising the nearly bashful grin that had corrupted Muzzen's tough exterior before turning her back on him, facing Nina and Kaz. She tossed her eyebrows up in a way that Nina personally recognized, one that said It's too easy.

Kaz nudged Nina suddenly in the side. "Lower your veil." Feta plucked her gilded, crownlike mask from her forehead before Kaz could address her next. Whereas Nina's trappings involved silky royal blue in both the cape and the veil, which was secured on her head by a wreath of faux flowers, Feta's bedazzled mask had swoops of beads that attached to a thin, flowing veil of her own. The Komedie Brute get ups were nothing if not tacky extravagance.

"Why do I have to be the Lost Bride?" Nina asked when Kaz had first shoved the costume at her. They'd met at Fifth Harbor at midnight, Muzzen and Feta balancing in the bobbing boat, already wrapped in their capes. She was half sure it was Kaz's own cruel rendition of Nina and Matthias' situation.

"I'll trade you," Feta had called from the boat.

Kaz had rolled his eyes. "Your time as the Lost Bride on stage makes you vulnerable to recognition."

Feta crossed her arms, challengingly, amusedly. "I never took off my veil, Kaz. No one would know it's me. Especially not anyone at Hellgate."

"Then why did you even grab the Scarab Queen?"

It was no surprise Feta was in charge of snatching the Komedie Brute costumes. With her blotchy but charming history entertaining West Stave, any one of the theater owners would jump at the chance to welcome a star back to the stage, even if she only paid them a short visit and tended to misplace some of their costumes. It was likely Feta plucked these from Owen Marshall, a theater manager with less spine than the average man who'd worked closely with Feta when she was first starting out. He never could say no to her.

"It matched Nina's eyes," Feta grumbled. The sentiment had warmed Nina briefly, although not enough to make her dismiss her suspicions about why they were donning the costumes in the first place. But that had been the last of Feta and Kaz's bickering before they'd all packed into the rowboat and started towards Terrenjel.