𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 | 𝑘.𝑏.

21

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E N C O R E
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"LAND HO!" JESPER WHOOPED CHEERFULLY in Feta's ear, seizing her gently by the shoulders. The call was making its way around the deck of the Ferolind, though Feta had been watching all afternoon for a change in the horizon and had kept her discovery contained in an electric grin. "We're finally free. Of course, we are being turned loose to invade the highest security prison in the world, one that was specifically made to bring monstrosities like us—" emphasized with another shake of Feta's shoulders and a hollow smile, "—to justice, but eh, whatdya gonna do?"

Feta smirked to hide the fact that those anxieties she'd been putting off had come knocking. She clung instead to her brilliant and concise shattering of Matthias' last hope of comfort, the look of horror in his eyes when he realized she was just as tarnished and hellbent as the rest of the Crows. It was nothing short of empowering. Maybe everyone in the Ice Court would be like Matthias: more afraid than they are furious. "Ready to show them a good time?"

Jesper's grin turned genuine in response and with a clap to Feta's shoulder, he moved along to spread the word to anyone else left.

A few stray members of the crew jumped at the chance to come chat with Feta now that she'd been left alone, buzzing with either excitement or their somber duty depending on how much they knew about the job. She politely did not tell anyone who wanted to share the good news of land that she already knew about the northern coastline, if not because of Jesper, then because it was a bit closer than before, a bit clearer. The Ferolind had stopped its approach though, lingering just beyond a nasty jumble of currents Feta felt surging about; she'd sent one of the last crew members who'd tried their hand at a conversation to inform Specht.

Feta entertained herself by daydreaming about the whaling villages littered along the coastline, how many of the residents were indifferent and how many were bloodthirsty. How many of the cozy lodges had the heads of Grisha on spits lining the snowy garden. How this was exactly what her parents had run from, how she had the nerve to come waltzing back.

This isn't about me, Feta scolded herself. This was a job like any other. Whether or not she was Grisha made no difference. Everyone on their crew would be slaughtered if they got caught. Get over yourself. She was already here, after all.

Feta perched herself upon the railing of the ship once more, letting her boots dangle over the edges, knock against the hull. Her throat didn't hurt nearly as much as it had a couple days ago, and with nightly visits to Nina the scraping had almost disappeared entirely from her voice. If she refrained from talking and singing for just a week, she'd likely be good as new, but asking Feta to shut up, even if she was asking herself, was a lot to ask. Especially when she knew her "screeching" annoyed Kaz, who had done everything he could to avoid her since their last talk.

Speaking of avoiding—

"Excited, Matthias?"

Feta twisted her torso to see if she'd gotten it right. Of course she had. No one else approaching the railing would have such heavy footsteps.

The giant of a boy had clearly been trying to keep his distance, attempting to creep closer to his beloved homeland a ways down from where Feta was sitting. Feta smirked at the disgusted, frightened expression that skittered across his bright, broad features just before he pulled it together. His jaw locked tightly, his glacier eyes blooming with something very similar to hate. It was clear he wasn't used to seeing such sin and abomination packaged in the skin of his own people.

Feta tutted. "Still bothered by my little trick, then?"

A sea serpent fit to rival Rusalye fashioned entirely out of water. Bubbling and foaming and huffing mist from it's nostrils as it swerved between the masts. Matthias, for all rights and purposes, had not stopped looking fit to slay the dragon until Feta dissolved it into a gentle fog as it dove off the bow.