𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒅 || 𝐊𝐚𝐳 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐗 𝐎𝐂

Tailoring

The lift opens and we all follow Kaz out. We follow the sound of running water. We end up in a room at the end of the hall. The room has a circular pool in the center and is surrounded by arches. Tangled vines cover the walls behind the arches. Waterfalls run down the walls and I scoff.

"Fancy," I mumble.

Three figures stand at the pools edge. I stand behind Kaz and to his right and we continue the pattern like birds in flight. Genya has scars over her face and golden eyes with red hair and wears a red kefta. Zoya has raven hair and wears a blue kefta. There is an unfamiliar boy with them with golden hair and blue eyes. King Nickoli. No one In our group bows to his status and he seems flustered, I smirk.

"We told the Grisha to come alone." Kaz begins in his gravely tone, making my heart flutter. Stop it.

"I'm afraid that wasn't possible," says Nickoli. "Though Zoya is, of course, a force to be reckoned with, Genya's extraordinary gifts are ill-suited to physical confrontation. I, on the other hand, am well suited to all forms of confrontation, though I'm particularly fond of the physical." I'm sure you are.

"Strumhond," I whisper to Kaz as the king midges his companions.

"He is the king of Ravka. Nickoli, strumhond is his alter Ego." Haz looks at me suspiciously. "My contacts stretch well into Ravka, dear."

"Thank you, now he's going to be twice as insufferable now," Zoya complains.

"Nickoli." He greets again and the mings eyes flash.

"How did you?"

"My friend here knows everything about everyone, most of the time." He mumbles to me. I smirk and nod.

"Emris, Arcanne. You can call me Blade." I introduce myself to the king.

"I like her," Zoya says and we share smirks, remembering our little disagreement at the Embassy.

"Why would you come as your fake identity?" Kaz asks.

"Let's just say a king needs a privateer sometimes do deal when there is chance in the cards." This man talks how we understand. "It looks very bad when kings lose."

"Do you really have a flying ship?" Jesper asks, from Kaz's left.

"No."

"Several," I say.

"Take me with you." Jesper pleads.

"Let's talk in the solarium. I'd prefer not to sweat through my suit." When we make to follow, Kaz halts and glances over his shoulder. "Just me and the privateer." I stare at him skeptically as he walks towards the door.

"We are the Triumvirate. We do not take orders from Kerch street rats with dubious haircuts." Zoya says, flipping her mane over her shoulder.

"I can phrase it as a question if it will make your feathers lie flat," Kaz says.

"You insolent—"

"Zoya," says Nickoli smoothly. "Let's not antagonize our new friends before they've even had a chance to cheat us. Lead on, Mister Brekker."

"Kaz," Wylan says. "Can't you—"

"Negotiate for yourself, merchling. It's time you learned how." He vanishes with Nickoli back into the corridors.

"Well?" Zoya says as Wylan clears his throat.

"Ma'am..." Wylan attempts. Miss Genya—"

Genya smiles her scars tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, he is sweet."

"You always take to the strays," says Zoya sourly.

"You're the boy Nina tailored to look like Kuwei," Genya said. "And you want me to try to undo her work?"

"Yes," Wylan says, that one word imbued with a whole world of hope. "But I don't have anything to bargain with."

Genya rolls her single amber eye. "Why are the Kerch so focused on money?"

"Says the woman with a bankrupt country," murmurs Jesper.

"What was that?" snaps Zoya.

"Forgive him, he is snappy."

"I'm going to wash this horrid town off of me," Zoya says, storming from the room.

"Don't drown," Genya calls after her. "Perhaps she'll do it just to be contrary."

"Can you do it?" Wylan asks sweetly.

"Do you have a photo or a reference? It is rather hard to undo tailoring.

"Here." Wylan gives Genya a drawing and a wanted poster.

"Let's find better light." Our small group wanders the halls. We find a bright room with an odd-smelling mud bath on the far wall and windows lining the other.

"Will you fetch my kit for me? Heavy thing, you'll find it by the towels in the sauna room we just left."

"You brought your kit?" Wylan asks.

"A good Taylor never leaves home empty-handed." Wylan happily hounds from the room, leaving me her, and Jesper alone. Jesper slowly follows the boy, muttering insults.

"So, how have things been?" Genya asks happily.

"Fine," I say, watching the streets of the final district.

"What is it with your little group leader?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Dark and brooding, the cane. What happened?"

"It's not my story to tell," I say, and Wylan bounds into the room. A grumbling Jesper in tow, carrying her case.

Genya directs Wylan to the window where the lighting is best. I push the window and Kerch, letting the wind blow against my back. I watch as Genya tilts wylans head back and forth.

"What are you doing?" Jesper asks.

"Looking for the seam. Where one tailoring ends and another begins. No matter how great the tailor, there is always a seam."

"I don't know why I'm so nervous," says Wylan.

"Because she might mess up and make you look like a weasel with curls?"

Genya lifts a flame-colored brow. "Maybe a vole."

"Not funny," said Wylan. He clenches his hands so tightly in his lap his knuckles become white stars.

"All right," says Genya. "I can try, but I make no promises. Nina's work is nearly flawless. Luckily, so am I."

Jesper smiles. "You remind me of her."

"I think you mean she reminds you of me."

I push Jesper behind me and watch Genya begin to work. "Do you think you could do that to me?" I ask as she finishes up Wylan.

"Why?" I motion to my face.

"They make you look strong. Why would you want rid of them?"

"I only wish I had the courage to wear my scars as proudly as you. To me, there is no pride in my scars. They are reminders."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, leave the brow scar." It matches Kaz's.

Her fingers hover over my face and arms and I get the urge to itch. She holds my arms to my sides for a moment then the sensation disappears and I feel along the smooth skin along my jaw.

"Thank you," I say.

"You two are obviously the politest of the group," Genya says pointing to me and Wylan.

"I guess we have manners." I give a pointed look to Jesper, who pouts in a corner.