𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 | 𝑘.𝑏.

29

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R E C O N C I L I A T I O N
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JESPER PUT ASIDE HIS DEPRESSING thoughts on just how severely he was disappointing his father without his father even knowing it and focused on what was up with Kaz. He hadn't been able to miss Kaz's little skirmish with the Kaelish. Kaz, usually unshakable during a job, was now on edge and Jesper didn't know why.

Part of him wanted to ask, but he knew that was the stupid part, the hopeful farm boy who picked the worst possible person to care about, who searched for signs in things that he knew deep down meant nothing — when Kaz chose him for a job, when Kaz played along with one of his jokes.

I wish Feta was here, Jesper thought wearily, unable to prevent a twitch of jealousy even as he was being honest with himself. Feta was always better than him at Kaz — knowing what Kaz was thinking, handling Kaz's moods, getting Kaz to care. Although he knew sometimes it exhausted her, Feta was normally happy to do it, to be patient with him and amused above all else at his nastiness. She was the guiding light at the center of Kaz's darkness, the benefit of Kaz's doubt.

In the earlier days, before Kaz gave in to Feta's presence, Feta and Jesper used to amuse themselves on their walks back to the Slat or the Crow Club with theorizing what exactly their boss had been thinking. Jesper had never had a clue, drumming it up to just another mystery of Dirtyhands; Feta was never that gullible.

On the days where they didn't come up with blatantly ridiculous excuses, Feta would smile distantly, fiercely, and piece together a vague but plausible defense for Kaz.

I think he's running from something, Feta had proposed wistfully, shortly after one of her first jobs with the Dregs where she didn't have to plan around her Stave acts first. I think something really shitty happened to him when it shouldn't have. I know it did.

What happened? Jesper had asked, baffled at the prospect of Feta knowing more about Kaz than him. He wouldn't accept it was true until awhile later.

Feta shrugged serenely then. Beats me. But I'll figure it out.

And she probably would, if she hadn't already (not that the Siren would sing secrets she didn't have to). Feta was observant, it wasn't her fault.

Meanwhile, Jesper was kicking himself. He'd finally seen the infamous Kaz Brekker without a stitch of clothing and he'd been too worried about ending up on a pike to pay proper attention.

But if Jesper was anxious, Wylan looked like he might actually throw up.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Wylan whispered. "What good is a lockpick without his picks?"

"Be quiet." Even though Kaz and Matthias were sat on the far side of the cell, Jesper didn't want to risk Dirtyhands overhearing any doubt.

"And what good are you? A sharpshooter without his guns. You're completely extraneous to this mission."

Ouch. "It's not a mission; it's a job."

"Matthias calls it a mission."

"He's military, you're not. And I'm already in jail, so don't tempt me to commit homicide."

"You aren't going to kill me, and I'm not going to pretend everything is okay. We're stuck in here."

"You're definitely better suited to a gilded cage than to a real one."

"I left my father's house."

"Yeah, you gave up a life of luxury so you could slum it with us sobs in the Barrel. That doesn't make you interesting, Wylan, just stupid."