Six of Crows: Cloaked in Shadow

Chapter 27 - Raven

They carried Brekker up on a table while the Zemeni boy cleaned the vomit staining the carpet. He must have been some sort of Fabrikator – all he did was skim his fingers over it and it was gone. Raven didn't dare risk the stairs. Her injured leg was barely holding her up when she stood still, let alone tried to climb.

And then there was the matter of Inej Ghafa.

She had been understandably a little prickly at having Raven in the house. Raven's ribs still ached from the kick that bore witness to that. But much as she did not want to be subject to Ghafa's dark stares, Raven did not, could not, leave the Geldstraat mansion. For where else would she go? Back to the Mask, after having helped Brekker off the streets and neglected to return to the Silver Sun with him? To sleep on the streets, risking the Lost and the drunk men and whatever else lurked in Ketterdam's fog? To stow away on a ship and hope to reach Ravka, where she'd be caught and thrown into the sea – if she was lucky, and wasn't sold to slavers?

No, Raven had no choice but to stay with this ragged band of outcasts. And the King of Ravka.

She could be worse off.

The ginger boy walked past and she straightened into a nonchalant sprawl, playing with her remaining knife. The moment he was out of sight, she let the casual façade fall. New spots of blood stained her leggings from the knife wound Ghafa had given her. She touched it gingerly. Her fingers came away wet.

She could not afford to show weakness here. Not with this merry gang of cutthroats. Not with the Lost. Not anywhere in this smoke-stained city. Nor could she show weakness alone, or she knew she would break down.

Dunyasha would not have shown weakness. Dunyasha would not even have needed to pretend strength.

She could not start comparing herself to her sister now, or she would never stop. Never stop failing to reach her level, a little voice hissed in her ear, and she forced herself to ignore it.

"Raven," said a voice – Ghafa – and Raven startled. She had not even heard the other girl approach.

"You have come to tell me to leave." She was proud when her voice did not tremble. It was clear, defiant, unconcerned. It was how Dunyasha would have said it, and that was far better than any way Raven could.

"No." Ghafa dragged a chair over to where Raven sat, joining her. "Take another guess."

"You want answers."

"You're good at this," Ghafa said, lips smiling, eyes dark.

Raven waved; slow, languishing. "Go ahead. Ask away."

"First off: you brought him here." Ghafa did not need to specify who he was. Perhaps it hurt to say his name. "Why?"

"Because much as you hate to hear it, I am not the monster here."

"And yet you killed Adrik."

"You killed Dunyasha."

"She was trying to kill me! If I hadn't killed her, I would have died."

"Really?" Raven said. "Then I have news for you, Ghafa. If I had refused to kill Adrik, what would the Mask have done? Given me a pat on the back? No, he would have set his creature on me, have it tear me apart. If I hadn't killed him, I would have died too. So I say I am as much in the wrong as you."

Ghafa was silent for a long moment. Her face was unreadable. "Maybe," she said eventually. "Maybe. But I never claimed to be a saint."

"Nor did I. But you must judge yourself by whatever means you judge me."

Ghafa sighed, long, deep. She rubbed her face. Then she closed her eyes, breathed in, and held out her hand. "Let's start again. Inej."

Raven stared down at the offered hand. An olive branch, a dove, a rainbow. A gesture of peace. And so she smiled, and took Inej's outstretched hand, and said, "pleased to meet you. My name is Ruslana."