𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 | 𝑘.𝑏.

09

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I M P R E S S E D
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THIS WAS NOT THE FIRST time Feta had heard witch used to describe Grisha power but this was the first time she recoiled at the word, the first time she panicked as if everyone thought she should be ashamed for what she was and could tell she had wasted no time in doing so. There were only so many pigeons, only so many fresh faces, in the Lid, in West Stave that had witnessed Feta perform before she was the Siren, before the delightful magic of her Tidemaker abilities was completely written out of her routines, but those pigeons never failed to mutter admirably, mutter ruefully: "Water witch."

Words intended to sting, or at the very least make you question the overall happiness of whoever spoke them — words far worse than witch — now breezed over Feta's head for the most part. Show biz had no time for people who couldn't shoulder a bad review and get right back in front of a crowd the next day.

But there was something rotten in Matthias Helvar.

Perhaps it had not always been there, and perhaps it didn't belong, but it was there now nonetheless.

As he watched Nina's eyes widen, her face redden, his hands only tightening around her neck, it became more and more apparent witch was one of the worst things to be in his book.

"Beg me," he spat. "Beg me for your life."

A shiver shot down Feta's spine but it only worked to help steel her expression. She was on the brink of drowning Matthias where he knelt on Nina if not for Kaz's sudden presence in the scene: a step closer, a determined click, an eerie green light cast from the bonelight.

Kaz's gravelly voice sternly demanded, "Hands off her, Helvar."

Matthias didn't falter. "Go ahead and shoot me."

He didn't seem to be letting up, but Inej remained poised where she was, so Feta followed suit. She tried to ignore the dry, gasping sounds coming from Nina, who was writhing underneath him. Where had the empty boy from the arena gone? Now there was only this creature spawned in pure hatred, seeming to fill with the fire of resentment, as if his only purpose was to make Nina suffer.

That was more disturbing than any greedy thug in the Barrel.

"If you've actually lost your mind, this is going to be a lot tougher than I thought," Kaz sighed. He removed his gun from Matthias' neck only to jab Matthias' left shoulder with the tip of his cane. One hand still clamped around Nina's throat, Matthias began to fall forward with a grunt; he would've landed right on Nina had Kaz not pinched the back of his collar.

Dark eyes glittering, pistol in one hand and crow-headed walking stick in the other, Kaz looked criminally dashing in his prison guard's uniform. Matthias' dirtied face shriveled into a scowl.

"Get hold of yourself, Helvar," Kaz said. "We're here to break you out. I can do to your leg what I did to your arm, and we can drag you out of here, or you can leave like a man, on two feet."

"No one gets out of Hellgate," Matthias said quite correctly.

"Tonight they do," Kaz said quite correctly.

Matthias sat forward, trying to get his bearings, clutching his dead arm. "You can't just walk me out of here. The guards will recognize me," he snarled. "I'm not losing fighting privileges to be carted off Djel knows where with you."

Feta found it rather absurd that this boy's first thought was about losing fighting privileges and not his life, but she supposed this wasn't much of a life to be taken from. She was more caught up with his use of Djel. It made sense, sure, Helvar being druskelle, being Fjerdan and all, but somehow she knew they had very different takes on what Djel was like. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it.