𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃//𝐊𝐚𝐳 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈. (𝐑𝐨𝐖 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐨)

Daughter of the People

     The stench of Ketterdam was overwhelmingly vulgar to Zoya, even if she'd been there before. But familiar or not, she wished she could take a bath and put on her familiar kefta again instead of walking along the dirty and loud streets of Ketterdam.

As the Crow Club came into view, Zoya nearly gasped. It looked like a great black bird of prey among a sea of gaudy peacocks. It was three times the size of any other establishment.

A building that wasn't quite part of the gambling club, but seemed to be connected to it in more ways than one was to its left. It was predominantly black, though it didn't look any less cheery because of its color. People came and went, and the scent of baked sweet wafted through the door every time it opened with the ding of a bell. The sign above it showed a black crow on the lip of a teacup with a black flower—a dahlia—in its beak, a small cake on the corner of the saucer. The words in Kerch below the picture read The Crow Cafe.

"They've definitely got a theme," muttered Zoya as she and Nikolai walked in. The inside was a little more colorful than the outside facade, the marble floors black and white, the red chairs cushioned. There were a few small tables, but every one of them were occupied. The cafe was busy, every kind of person with another kind of sweet in their hand. The cafe smelled like baked goods, and Zoya took in one deep breath before focusing her mind on the task ahead of her: Brynn Adala.

A young woman was working at the counter, counting a stack of kruge with a bored expression on her face. Zoya thought she looked a little bit like a lynx.

"Excuse me, we're looking for Brynn Adala," said Nikolai. "It's a serious matter."

The girl raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Is that so?" She nodded her head over to a small group of teenagers by the door. "You can get in line. She's busy at the moment. But when she becomes free, I'll let everyone here know. Next!"

Zoya narrowed her eyes. "How about you go tell her that she's needed? Or maybe I'll just—"

"What my companion here means to say," interrupted Nikolai quickly, "is that it is urgent. So, please."

She rolled her eyes and put the money in the cash register. "Fine. But there's a line of people waiting, so if you'd move so that they can order, that'd be lovely." Zoya could sense the sarcasm in her voice.

They took a few steps away from the front counter, trying to get a little bit of space from the rest of the customers. Zoya's eyes wandered to the display case. Some of the pastries looked like normal sweets, glazed or coated in powdered sugar, some of them covered in unfamiliar sauces. But there were a few that had specific looks to them, a black crow cookie, a kind of eclair that had somehow been made into the shape of a white wolf, a biscuit that looked like an icicle. Everywhere Zoya looked, there were black dahlias. In the display case, on the walls, on the tables, even on the lights. Maybe the place should have been named The Black Dahlia.