𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 | 𝑘.𝑏.

25

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B U N K B I S C U I T
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IT TOOK TWO MORE DAYS of travel to reach the cliffs that overlooked Djerholm, but the going was easier as they moved south and toward the coast, the salty smell of ocean reaching Feta before the weather warmed and the ground thawed. Little hints of spring that still meant as much to Feta now as they did when she was a kid: hope that this land was not yet cold and decrepit at its core, that there was still something alive, still something worth saving.

Kaz's first scowl on the cliffs was dedicated to how much sense it would have made in another lifetime for him to meet Feta in Djerholm rather than the dank, suffocating crannies of Ketterdam.

Whereas Ketterdam was a canvas of black, gray, and brown, tangled streets dense with mist and coal smoke, ships in the harbor committed to the hustle and bustle of trade, Djerholm was a deep breath.

Its harbor was crowded with ships but they all seemed a degree more inviting, somehow, than the ones that tended to dock in Fifth Harbor, especially. Its tidy streets marched to the water in orderly fashion, and the houses were painted such cheery colors — red, blue, yellow, pink — as if in defiance of the wild white land and the long winters this far north. Even the warehouses by the quay were wrought in cheerful pastels.

Kaz took solace in the sheer amount of times Feta had called Ketterdam, the Barrel, the Slat, home. The commotion of the Staves and the brilliance of all the city's distractions suited Feta just fine.

But this whole new world seemed possible, too. Even if Kaz knew it wasn't that easy.

She's here with you now, isn't she?

As the group strolled down the cliff path towards the city, Inej scanning the harbors undoubtedly for the Ferolind, Feta let her eyes wander to where the Ice Court stood like a great white sentinel on a massive cliff overlooking the harbor. Oh look at that, Feta mused, unable to prevent a morbid giggle from escaping, it's my death sentence. She let the giggle play out as she shook her head at the Ice Court.

Matthias had deemed the cliffs unscalable, and while Feta learned to expect a lot from Inej, she suspected even these would present a challenge for the Wraith. They seemed impossibly high, and impossibly smooth, their white lime surface clean and bright as ice.

"Cannon," Jesper pointed out, breaking Feta out of her daze.

Feta had noticed them on her first glance over. They'd be kinda cool if she could stop envisioning a cannonball hurdling towards the Ferolind.

Kaz squinted up at the big guns pointed out at the bay. "I've broken into banks, warehouses, mansions, museums, vaults, a rare book library, and once the bedchamber of a visiting Kaelish diplomat whose wife had a passion for emeralds." Feta let a fond smile slip through. Excursions into rare book libraries and diplomats' bedchambers weren't as frequent as she would have liked after how thrilling those jobs had been. "But I've never had a cannon shot at me."

"There's a first for everything," Feta hummed.

"And something to be said for novelty, too," Jesper offered, so that Kaz's look had to be directed towards them both.

Inej pressed her lips together. "Hopefully, it won't come to that."

"Those guns are there to stop invading armadas," Jesper said confidently. "Good luck hitting a skinny little schooner cutting through the waves bound for fortune and glory."

"I'll quote you on that when a cannonball lands in my lap," said Nina.

They slipped easily into the traffic of travelers and traders where the cliff road met the northern road that led to Upper Djerholm. The upper town was a rambling extension of the city below, a sprawling collection of shops, markets, and inns that served the guards and staff who worked at the Ice Court as well as tourists. Luckily, the crowds were heavy and motley enough that one more group of foreigners could go unnoticed.