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"Jesper." Kaz's voice was sharp, cutting into Jesper's concentration as he tried to turn a coin into a bullet.

"What?"

"Look."

Jesper and Wylan both turned. "Saints," Jesper whispered. They were too late. The Fold covered … everything. It had moved that far out of place.

"Inej, get ready," Kaz ordered. The words weren't necessary. Inej was already hanging on the ropes, ready to leap off the ship onto the parapets of the fortress they were approaching.

Jesper was looking down into what appeared to be a courtyard. Some gray smoke thing had hold of a familiar-looking person. "Inej, go!"

She saw what was happening moments after he did and leaped lightly from the rigging, the blade of Neshyenyer slicing through the shadowy thing as she fell.

The person in question was indeed Alina Starkov. And Mal with her. She embraced Inej, which made Jesper smile. Meeting two Saints in your lifetime was one thing; being personal friends with one was quite another. Inej would never forget this moment as long as she lived.

Alina and Mal would be taking the Hummingbird now, going deeper into the Fold. Inej would accompany them, with Neyar's blade. And Nina and Zoya would stay on board to act as backup. The rest of them disembarked, ready to go help the forces inside the fortress.

Jesper wanted to stop and hug Inej, and Nina, and somehow make sure that when this was over, they could all go home to Ketterdam together and get back to life as it should be. But there was no time.

As they stepped off the ropes leading down into the fortress, Jesper reached for Wylan's hand. He had been practicing, yes, but would it be enough?

A reassuring return squeeze assured him of Wylan's belief in him.

It was strange to Wylan to see Jesper like this—he was always so far beyond self-assured as not to even have to think about it. But this new man, the one who wanted to be the best he could be, knew how much he still had to learn. Wylan found it endearing. And admirable. It would have been so easy for Jesper to go on as he had been and let his powers continue to be something he hid and used only in emergencies.

A good reminder, Wylan thought, that being open to new things was important, as was confidence, which Jesper already had in spades and Wylan could use more of. He had saved the others' lives in Ohval's home, true enough, which had required quick thinking and specialized knowledge. Maybe he was an asset to the Crows after all.

Tolya broke off from the rest of them, searching for Prince Nikolai. Jesper, Wylan, and Kaz went in the direction of the gunshots. Always the best place to be, in Jesper's opinion.

They climbed a roof, peeking over, to see a few robed Grisha holding some survivors from the army at bay. The army had barricades, but it was clear the Grisha had been steadily pushing them back, and had them trapped in the courtyard.

"Wylan," Kaz said softly.

Digging a bomb out of his bag, Wylan prepared it. One of the Grisha had fire—she was just readying a ball of it to throw. That was where he aimed. A quick glance at Jesper, a reassuring nod, and then the throw.

The bomb arced high in the air—and landed exactly where Wylan had aimed. It exploded, sending the fire user flying. The other Grisha hurried to her side.

A man in the army's uniform looked around him in a panic. "Where did that come from?"

No one knew how to make an entrance quite like Kaz Brekker. He signaled Jesper and Wylan to stand up and climb to the top of the roof. "My demolitions expert," he said calmly, resting his hand on his cane.

"Expert?" Wylan echoed uncertainly. But he was a Crow now, there was really no denying it, and the Crows were the best at what they did. He nodded firmly. "I mean, yes. Expert." And was rewarded by Jesper's fond smile.

The three of them climbed down from the roof. Jesper easily melted the iron that was holding the gate closed, pushing it open in front of them.

Behind him, he heard Kaz mutter, "What nightmare have we gotten ourselves into?"

Jesper could have pointed out that he would have been just fine being left in bed several days ago rather than rousted out at an inconvenient moment to save Ravka … but that would have been the old Jesper talking. The new Jesper was as charming as the old one, and liked money nearly as much, but also had an interest in saving people in the process.

Jesper and Wylan crouched behind one of the barricades, behind a woman who could only have been Tolya's sister Tamar. Squinting across at the other barricade, he recognized the man in uniform as the man who had freed him and Kaz from their trip to Hellgate. "Why's Sturmhond here?"

"Around here, he goes by Nikolai," Tamar told him.

So. Prince turned privateer turned prince again, eh? Jesper grinned. "Nikolai Lantsov. All this time, close personal friend." He spun his guns cheerfully, feeling Wylan's hand gentle on his back.

Tamar frowned at them both. "And … and you are?"

"You must be Tamar," Wylan said. "We came with your brother."

There were only the two Grisha left on the field, both of them kneeling next to the fallen fire user. Then one of them stood, forming a ball of icy water between her hands. As they moved toward the barricades, the ball became two tall columns of roiling water, and wind that would make them deadly ice blades if the Grisha were allowed to come any closer.

Jesper glanced quickly back at Wylan, receiving a tiny reassuring smile, and spun the chambers on his pistol. He got up, taking two quick shots to break the Grisha's concentration, then two more to distract the wind user, and then tossed the right-hand gun in the air and fired off a fifth shot to knock the wind user to his knees. Jesper paused, cocking his left-hand gun and smiling at the Grisha. "Hello, gorgeous."

She whipped her hand up and the gun turned to ice in his hand. He dropped it, painfully. Would he never learn just to shoot them in their pretty faces? Apparently not, it seemed.

"If only you'd been born Grisha," she said pityingly, "you would know what it means—"

"To be blessed?" Mindful of what his mother had said, what Ohval had said, he started ripping buttons off his vest, turning them into tiny blades in his hand, and whipping them at the Grisha. His aim was infallible with the guns; they would see now how he did without them.

The ice Grisha fell to her knees, weeping in pain. He had landed something, at least.

The wind Grisha readied lightning between his hands. Metal clanged, and the lightning was drawn to the metal head of a crow on Kaz's cane, which was suddenly embedded in the ground in front of the Grisha.

Wylan drew a vial from his coat. "I have Datura Meloxia."

Kaz nodded at him. "Wylan, now."

Glancing at the two Grisha flanking Jesper, Wylan said quickly, "Air support."

They readied wind, and he ejected the poison from the vial. The wind blew it forward into the face of the oncoming Grisha. He stopped, smiled—and took an axe in the face from Tolya's sister.

The ice Grisha screamed, readying a spell, but was as stunned as the rest of them when the hand she thrust forward was missing its fingers. Jesper's tiny button blades had sliced neatly through all of them.

She stared at him. "You. You're a—"

He smiled. And then Nikolai finished her off. "It's done," he whispered.

Kaz joined the prince, while Jesper and Wylan each picked up a fallen gun. They exchanged glances, a brief touch, each making sure the other was okay.

Tolya appeared, leaping over a wall. He swept his sister up and spun her around in relief and joy.

"The blade? Did you find it?" Nikolai asked.

"Inej has it. They've gone to find Alina and Mal."

"We have to do the same. If Kirigan brought the fight here, he's gunning for her."

"I've cleared us a way into the fort," Tolya said. "Come on."

The rest of them followed him. They had won this fight, but there were more to come.