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CHAPTER FIVE ▪▫▪▫▪
KIRA REFUSED THE JOB IMMEDIATLY. If there really was a Sun Summoner that meant that General Kirigan probably had a hold of her already, which meant Alina Starkov was being kept in the Little Palace.
Kira wasn't above kidnapping a Saint, but Kaz Brekker be damned if she stepped one booted feet of hers in Os Alta.
Kaz knew, of course. He knew she was afraid and he wasn't scared of using it against her. Which was why Kira had been oh, so blessed with his words of wisdom. "Never make decisions out of fear, Kira, only out of spite."
Kira had laughed in his face. "You'll understand my fear, Kaz, once you have a fucking kingdom wanting you dead."
She had met with Jesper on the bar of the club and he too had tried to get to her. He started by offering a few shots, but seeing as that had no effected he pouted.
"You're really not going?" Jesper asked. Kira shook her head, downing another glass he had passed her. "Kira, we need you. You have this unnerving spectacular mind and Kaz doesn't have enough braincells to go around."
"Inej is smart."
"Well, I'm not, I need you there to think for me," Jesper said promptly, a cheeky smile on his lips as he nudged her with his elbow. "Come on, gorgeous, it's a heist. You love heists."
"Kaz can pull it off without me."
"Yes, but he's always more pleasant to be around when you're there, darling," Jesper had pointed out and Kira rolled her eyes. "What would it take for you to come? A million kruge? Because that's the prize already."
"Pauper or prince, every man can be bought," Kira muttered and snapped her gaze to Jesper, "I don't know what it would take, Jes."
"Do you think a pretty please from Kaz would help?" Jesper had asked.
Kira didn't answer because the answer would probably be yes.
She had left the Crow Club, leaving Jesper to his drinks and Kaz in his frenzy to find a way across the fold in a mere few hours, and had slipped into the crowds of Ketterdam.
One decision she did make out of spite: Let Kaz Brekker sweat in stress for something he couldn't do.
He had taunted her, mocking her fears, and Kira had shoved one of his in his face. Making the Bastard of the Barrel crawl for scraps in his attempt to build a skiff strong enough to cross the fold—metaphorically speaking of course.
Kira was making her way through the crowds, letting her fingers dance around as she started filling her purse with treasures. She dismantlement silver necklaces, unclasped golden watches and shoved them all inside her little bag.
