Natasha Van Doren is a shadow summoner. She bides her time and resides in darkness, feared and esteemed by Ketterdam's civilians, a ghost . She cons Kaz Brekker into joining a heist he can't refuse and with thirty million kruge on the line, the crow...
Hoppsan! Denna bild följer inte våra riktliner för innehåll. Försök att ta bort den eller ladda upp en annan bild för att fortsätta.
THE VILLAGERS OF RAVKA WERE ON EDGE. Natasha couldn't even blame them. It had two days since Lizabeta had given birth, murdered her husband and taken off with her daughter - Natasha. The babya suspected her, but without evidence they kept their whispers between themselves.
Natasha would wander through the huts, braiding the girls' hair and playing soldier with the boys. They liked her company, allowing them her to sit with them at meals, babbling away out the stories of their saints.
"Van Doren," Leonid called, he carried firewood on his shoulders, his face still perfect and sweat free.
He dropped them on the dirt carelessly, wiping his muddy palms on the front of his roughspun.
He had stopped joking with Natasha, refusing to call her silly nicknames or sit with her anymore.
She didn't look up at him, trailing patterns in the dirt with the end of twig. "Leo," she said glumly. The hem of her sarafan was caked with mud. Rain had poured down on Ketterdam last night, bathing their soil into thick porridge-like mud.
"Did you attend church this morning?"
Natasha laughed lowly, springing to her feet. Her legs ached from all those sleepless night in that tiny cot. "I didn't really have a choice,"
Natasha held her red book in her right hand, the silver lined pages stained with drops of water and mud,
"You must try," he said, striding to her side. He towered over like an evergreen, his blonde hair damp from the rain. "We have welcomed you into our home, fed you, bathed you, cared for you, we don't normally except otkazat'sya into our midst.
"Well isn't that real magnanimous of you," she retorted sourly.
"You will follow our rules, Van Doren, or you will not be welcomed back," From the corner of her eyes, she could see the babya wringing their hands, sneering whispers. "We have done nothing but cater to your needs, allowing you a home-"
"I paid for it," Natasha laughed. "I've been paying merchers so that you're foolishness won't kill these children. The food that appears aren't miracles from your saints," she said, poking a finger into his shoulder. "You let your faith leave these kids bellies empty,"
"You do not know what you're talking about, otkazat'sya,"
"Why do you think you haven't received any food these past two days?" Natasha demanded, lifting a brow. Her patience ran cold, the darkness crackling beneath the surface. "Do you think your prayers will bring food to your children, that your saints provide food service for the righteous?"
