Chapter One  ♰
Ache of the Heart.

𝖁era Bardot recently acquired the knowledge that sneaking onto a ship that crosses through the fold is not as difficult as people make it out to be.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Neither is obtaining knowledge (just by bartering her eyelashes and smiling friendly at a random waiter) about a certain somebody powerful who goes by the Bastard of the Barrel, a man with several connections and adores a good exchange of money and offers. Vera likes to think of her entire being as an outstanding offer—excuse her ego—and Kirigan's praises have certainly boosted her confidence over the last four years, all that uplifting now engraved in her veins.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The shadow of a man—his name only hung mystifyingly from everybody's lips—was key in Vera's plan to survive this hellhole, though she loved the adventure a thrilling investigation brought. Nobody knew of his whereabouts; so until she truly finds him and manages to get herself a job at a bar, she has been staying in a cramped-up little room with a water leak in the ceiling where she can hear drunken men yelling ferociously next door.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The girl was roaming about somewhere behind the Black Veil Cemetery into the night. A rustle in the leaves caught her attention, and though she kept walking, she was far more observant and careful from the next second on. Thrumming with adrenaline, she swiftly turns around just as another step haunts closer and forces the sharpness of her ring into her attacker's cheekbone to open a cut that weeps, then she punched the sharp end of the ring into his neck, scarlet liquid dripping and tumbling to the floor drop by drop.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Not today, you ugly hogwash," she spat as his futile body hung from her arm, "I've had a long day."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A massive billow of wind sent her to the ground, Grishas, she realised upon finding balance. Then she got her wish of finding the special crew when from her peripheral vision, she noticed three individuals, the odd ones out amongst the small science practitioners. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎One dressed in tight blue clothes and two boys who could not look more opposite if they sold their souls. They lunged to attack the Grishas and if they were not on the attackers' side, they were certainly on Vera's. Streets of Ketterdam were a strange place, with dangerous prospects everywhere. Vera jumped into the fight, eyeing the woman with a long black braid hung behind her shoulder and too many knives whilst delivering another punch. The woman had a careful posture, fingers twitching near the knife at her hip and a hood on her head. The Wraith, Vera deciphered, having heard so much about her.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Knives thrown, pistols blazing, sounds of the wind altering courses, the deserted street was now filled with high volume of noise and commotion. The ringleader of the group stabbed his cane into the neck of a woman in midnight blue just as Vera smacked a man across the face, sending him crumbling to the floor.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Nobody needed a second assuring glance to recognise the man in all black on the sidewalk watching the scene unfold between Vera, his two crows and the stranger Grishas with a stoic face; as though none of this bothered him more than the cold winter wind, his posture remained motionless like a melting candle. He had a tall, slender frame, jet-black hair and striking features, leather-gloved hands clutching a cane. Utterly slowly, he moved to stand with his back at Vera—who was massaging her own bloodied knuckles and wiping away a drop of blood from the twitch at her lips—whilst his cane clicked against the cobblestone.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"We have orders from the Black General to bring the girl back," the Tidemaker sneers at the man in black, spitting out blood.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The Bastard of the Barrel shot his cane at the Grisha sharply, a crack of a bone filling the silent air, "The second you step into my city, the orders of a Ravkan General means nothing to me." At his voice, Vera felt his heart skip a beat. His tone held a certain gravity, a glory to it that left her feeling awed.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Whilst the two groups stared each other down, the lanky boy that was on the floor was reaching to steal the dead Tidemaker's wallet. Then came a billow of fire and Vera dodged it with ease. The Darkling has taught her tons when it comes to fighting—these people were foolish to think they had a chance against her. She decided to take the Grisha girl down by sending a kick to the Inferni's knee, her heel then digging into her hip painfully. Enter a Heartrender, one that was not on her side who made an infamous hand gesture; she sent the three crows and Vera onto the ground, their hearts clenching achingly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Come on, princess," one of the men shot her a wicked, victorious smirk as Vera was forced to take a step back, "let's take you back to where you belong."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Vera stood up. Finally, with a crude smile, she raised her hands swiftly and carved her fingers. The combustible gases around her played at her rules, manipulated into her orders. Then one final sharp strike to put an end to this ridiculously long fight. An animalistic fire pierced the air, a serrated cord of blue blaze emitting from the palms of her hands, like shards of lighting and set the three remaining Grishas on fire. Her vivid blueness wraps its figure around the prey. She harshly stepped nearer, throwing her arms forward once again as a thick string of blazing silver spread around magnificently.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Then it all fainted. The shards of blaze fire faded away like a fog into nothing.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Kirigan would be pissed if he knew she had murdered seven of his Grishas; fortunately, he'll never know. He may assume they've run away, or have fallen victims at other ruthless hands of Ketterdam. She locked eyes with the cane holder who was still clutching his chest underneath a million layers of black clothing; ache of the heart never disappears.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Even nearly dead," her lips tug into a tiny smirk, "you all look incredible."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎At least that comment won the tallest one over who accepted her hand when she offered it, and got himself to his feet with her help. He then crouched over and helped his partner to stand, and obnoxiously loudly whispered, "I like her." He says, almost like a child receiving a treat. That night was the first, and quite possibly the last time Vera Bardot ever offered Kaz Brekker her hand; he refused— getting off the ground himself with ease and returning to his pin-straight posture.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You're an Inferni." The woman breathed out, hands on her hips as she put the last knife she picked up into its respectable holder.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Vera scoffed lightly, "Give me some credit, darling, I'm not just any Inferni... did you—" disappointed tone, and an awkward cough, "did you not see the blue fire?" She pointed back at the dead bodies scattering the ground, glancing between the dissembled body parts and the girl.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The shooter smiles brightly, equally impressed and puzzled, putting his guns back into its place, "She's a show-off, just like me." The woman tiredly rolled her eyes.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"A worker of mine mentioned you are looking for me, Vera Bardot." The cane-man grimaced at the sight of the dead bodies before finally laying eyes on the girl. "This is my crew, Jesper, the sharpshooter, and the Wraith— Inej."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Vera saw Jesper send her a tiny wave, wiggling her fingers, and she put on her most pleasant smile, "I'm glad my word reached you."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You forgot to mention in your word that you have the entirety of East Ravka after you." For a Barrell bastard, he certainly had a posh tone, each syllabus stretched and spelled out harshly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Would that be a deal breaker?" She innocently asked and narrowed her eyes to decipher each and every one of their reactions better. Inej and Jesper made a face she had expected the two to make; if Kaz was negatively floored at that revelation, he did not allow himself to show it. "The General was not exactly content with my departure," she twirls the key in her hand, an act of anxiety but it looks far from it, "I am very desirable amongst the people, you see, they were all terribly upset when I—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You ran away?" Jesper deadpanned. "You ran away from the Little Palace."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Way to simplify the matter." She retorts, rolling her eyes. Jesper dramatically placed his hand over his chest, muttering a tiny 'ouch' in return. "It was far more impressive than you can wonder, think of it like a fragile yet pretty birdie escaping an iron cage—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Why leave the Little Palace for a place like this?" Kaz asked, "you wouldn't last an hour in the Barrel."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Why does everybody keep saying that!" Vera rolled her eyes in defeat. "Yes, I'm new around here, you fool, and nobody can teach me the system better than you can," she flutters her eyelashes at him, and he looks away, "this is, after all, your city." There was a little taunting mock in her tone, one that made Jasper giggle like a schoolgirl.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The Barrel's life cannot be taught, you will have to survive it to learn," Kaz says, "What can you offer that my team doesn't already have?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Vera blinked, turned around and glanced back and forth between Brekker and the dead men on the floor, "was the fire display to save your lives not enough?" She sassed, and Jasper literally buried his face in the focused Inej's neck to strain his laughter. He's never seen anybody speak to Kaz Brekker in that manner— hell, he doubts Kax ever encountered any soul like Vera.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You were fighting for your life and not ours." Kaz declares.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Nonsense, dear, I'll always save you in every possible way." Vera sent a wink in his way, then pursed her lips into a thin line when he gritted his teeth, the slightest bit of emotion dripping from his stoic face— like a melting candle. Inej and Jesper glanced at each other with a tiny smirk, watching Kaz and Vera standing eye-to-eye like two bears fighting for a prey, both equally stubborn and wanting the upper hand in the conversation.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I meant, if you are to work for me, you would have to carry out much dirtier tasks incredibly slyly for the sake of your crew," then in an insulting tone, he continued, "that fire of yours attracted more attention than the sun."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Vera raised a brow, a massive grin on her face, she did not think he would actually consider it because her interview was not exactly very great, "Work for you?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"That is what I said." Kaz blinked, and looked away again when she grinned at him. He felt strangely ashamed of himself for allowing him mind to think her voice sounded like a siren's song, drenched in something addicting.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Everything was starting to fall into pieces. "What do you want, Kaz Brekker?" She asked, each word strategically woven into honey before they fell from her lips like a myth. Kaz took one look at the girl in a gown and jewels worth enough to feed the entirety of Kerch and decided she hasn't known a single struggle in her entire life; she was born in privilege, handed everything on a silver platter before she could ask. Her words were not a siren's song, Vera Bardot merely got everything she wanted because she was raised in the lap of wealth.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Vera," Kaz speaks in monotone, "You understand you will have to do whatever we do for survival, whatever we ask of you. You have to prove your loyalty or you'll be on a one-way ride back to Ravka."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Brilliant," she thankfully smiles, the crudeness behind her tone not missed.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When she started to walk past him, he raised his cane to the side with one swift movement and blocked her path — the black wooden object that was undoubtedly a fabricator's work against her upper stomach. The head of it had a golden crow which was ready to pierce through her flesh at any given moment if she were to move. His face was sharply pointed, standing out prominently under the bleak lights of Ketterdam.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"One last thing," he stated, "if you step one inch of a step out of line," there's that threat in his voice she's heard so much about, "I will kill you."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Vera hums, uninterested, "Do make sure to put on a good show." In the back, Jesper snorts. "I like a fashionable goodbye almost as much as I love a striking entrance." Vera has always been one for callous threats; she found it quite entertaining.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Once Kaz was done glaring at her, he ordered Inej to take her to her new place which looked better than her current room but certainly not too pleasant either. The Slat was narrow, and all the rooms lined side by side in the apartment were tiny.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She scanned it again, watching the moonlight crawl over the dark oak furniture. It was nothing like the room Kirigan had kept her in back at the Little Palace. Her old home had been white walls with golden trimmings, pale pinks and blues sprawled over her bed. A grand bookshelf full of Grisha theory.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A golden cage is still a cage.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's hardly the Little Palace," Inej says as though she read her mind, turning the lamp on and allowing Vera in who was studying every corner of the apartment closely.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Vera slouched on the couch nearby, letting out a breath of relief, "it's got the only thing I seek," she smiles, "To breathe freely."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Inej's already large chocolate eyes widened further, a golden glint to her skin under the lamp's brightness, "You seek freedom?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Vera straightens her posture, "More than anything..." she tells her, "and you?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Inej hesitated, "I'll tell you. One day." Vera did not press any further. "Tomorrow as the sun falls, Kaz expects you in the Crow Club."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Has that darling boy ever felt the touch of the sun?" Vera mused, delicately touching the intricate details on the wall's frames.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Inej arched her brow in a motherly fashion and ignored her comment, "Do not be late."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Not even fashionably?" She pouted slightly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Inej warned with a glare, "Not even fashionably."

𝖁era was fashionable late to the Crow Club. It was crowded and noisy with hefty old men dealing cards and small arguments littering the air. The lighting was dim but brighter compared to the shadows of Ketterdam streets and enough to almost blind her. Her dagger boots landed hard on the woods, indignant. She always had this sort of madwoman ambiance to her as she stepped in her black boots with a straight face, that tiny fading smirk which is indecipherable.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She first went ahead to chatter with the bartender and the few waitresses dressed in black as they hurried around, everybody light and rushing on their feet. Vera was in a knee-length scarlet dress with puffy sleeves, and a thin black coat hung over her shoulders; just like everybody, she herself admired the way she dressed. There were some bitter women with striking appearances and sharp tones in the corner that Vera managed to earn the approval of. People's eyes brightened whenever she spoke or made a joke. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Working with the Bastard of the Barrel means people will either hate or envy or be afraid of her. That is a reputation Vera Bardot never sought. Years ago, the hatred and shadows swarming around the Black Heretic's orbit is what started callous wars and separation of Grishas and Otkazat'sya; literally causing a dagger thrown down the middle of the world. So much loss, so much blood. East Ravka was forever bound with despair and misery, and in an impossible position due to being in a geographical prison with Fjerda and Shu-Han at its borders. This arises the question: Would the world be a better place, or even crueler if people didn't fear Grisha's, hunting them down to a point of extinction? Being a Grisha is a double-edged sword. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎So, Kaz Brekker can keep his as cold as True North heart, and one people-pleaser lady on his crew is hardly the end of the world. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When she arrived at the table with familiar faces, "There's my favourite carnivorous flowers," she coyly smiles, "been scaring any children lately, Kaz?" Kaz's glare could've shrunk a grown-man and sent war-leaders running. Instantly, the crows were turned away from her and involved in some sort of secret conversation in that side-bar. Vera doubted they were discussing anything serious regarding the matter of employing her; it involved a bunch of "why"'s from Kaz, and his glares at Jesper who resorted to sending a tiny, giddy wave in Vera's direction— his grin as bright as a child's after they're presented with candies.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When they turned around, "Were you discussing me?" she asked, swirling the straw in her martini which tasted horrid.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No," Inej protested, and at the same time, "Yes," Jesper said.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Is this what today's gonna be like? Everybody talking about me?" She placed her thumb and index on her chin to mimic a thoughtful, critical expression, "Saint Maria, I'm going to hate it."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "There is no time for your crudeness," Kaz Brekker—with his dagger eyes and killer cheekbones—snapped. "So, you don't have your family on your trail?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No," she dismisses with a wave of her hand, sipping her drink slowly, "they're all dead, best to my knowledge, my mum died after dumping me at an orphanage."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "So, you know nothing about your mother."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Why is everybody so interested in my mother," she deadpanned, her mind momentarily travelling back to when she first met General Kirigan (oh, no, forbidden topic alert— once Vera dives into the thoughts of him, she cannot escape, oh no, no, no—); when Kaz arched a brow, piercing eyes shooting daggers into her own, and Jesper giggled in the back, muttering something amongst the line, "you should warn your father," she was fortunately able to ditch the idea of Kirigan, and she thinks this right here, this dynamic of the anti-social clique may be the escape she's always sought.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Vera winked at Jesper, and then averted her gaze towards Kaz as she leaned and rested her folded arms on the table, "is that what you want me to do, Kaz, darling?" she blinks, "warn my ghost father?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I do not want your dead mother, Vera." Kaz shot in monotone. "You avoided the question from yesterday."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Vera played dumb, "Remind me what that was."

Kaz seemingly restrains himself from rolling his eyes, "why leave the Little Palace." It was rather a statement but he expected her to now answer nonetheless.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I like adventure," her initial target was to win Jesper Fahey over who grinned like a child the second she said those words, then she would bond with the girl who seemed warm enough. "I like danger, the adrenaline rush, the thrill of a risk... it feels like breathing."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "‎Why not join the second army, then?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Not my scene," she tuts, tracing the gold outline around the end of her black sleeves, she lowers her voice, "anything to do with the General is not my scene; too many rules, too many eyes."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You got too many eyes looking at your right at this second," Kaz doesn't move a single inch but his eyes wander around. He wasn't wrong— people were looking, and not only because she's a stranger in glittering jewels.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Yes, because I'm pretty, not because they're just waiting for me to make a mistake," she said, and avoided mentioning how fighters back at Little Palace would wait for her to step out of line merely because they wanted General Kirigan's attention torn from her.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Kaz stole her attention again, "So you have a trail of enemies?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What—how—when did I say that!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Admit it, you're on the run," Kaz leaned over. "You're stubborn, and the idea of going back to the Little Palace makes your eyes twitch, you start fiddling with your ring the second I mentioned enemies." He spoke in a way that made any person want to spill their guts out—confess their sins, and Vera was no stranger to hypnotisation.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She squinted her eyes crudely, "you've been watching me?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I've got better things to do."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Jesper was nearly squealing in his seat in excitement at the thought of the Kresnika part-taking in their murderous activities, "Please," he pleaded with Kaz, "can we keep her?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Yes, Kaz, can you keep me?" She had to resist a cheeky grin every time Kaz looked away the second she used her flirtatious tone,  "I am a useful asset, sir, and I can light your path whenever you'd like." 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I do not care about your powers, Vera," Kaz says in all seriousness, "or your lineage nor your origin, I truly couldn't care less." In all those years in Little Palace, Vera was victim of countless passive-crude comments, though nobody ever said they didn't care about her powers. Strangely, it made her feel more relieved than upset. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What exactly do you care about, Mr Brekker?" She arched a brow, starring into the depths of his eyes. There was some softness around the edges of her tone that made his soul curl; this melancholic and intrigued tone that will undoubtably haunt him. Whenever she's near.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Smoothly, he stood up from his seat, and Jesper and Inej followed suit,  his cane clicked against the ground. The charming glint in Vera's eyes chased the cold depth of Kai's, like it always did in every room. He glared down at her, and positively surprised her, "Don't even think about being fashionable late to tomorrow's meeting." With that, he turned on his heel and strutted away. Jesper turned around, gaping in shock and mouthing, 'Wow, Vera, wow!'.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It felt like breathing.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝕮ara speaks.

so, this chapter highlights the introduction between ur fav girl & the crows! next chapter on will start following season i of shadow and bone (netflix version) plot. don't forget to vote & comment, my rules still stand and I'm not going to be updating unless people interact <3