Jesper's brain couldn't find a moment of peace. His chest was heavy and words echoed in his head, overlapping one another. He was no longer sure if he could distinguish between his own thoughts and everything he had heard in the past hour. He kept replaying Kaz's scornful voice in his mind, making him suffer for his mistake, as if it wasn't already painful for him to think that he might be the cause of the wound that had almost taken out his best friend. He wandered through the hotel suite, still feeling the burning sensation on his knuckles from the punches that had landed on Dirtyhands' ribs a little earlier. And even though, truth be told, Kaz deserved every one of those punches, Jesper continued to see Wylan's fear, his father's disappointment, and Inej's pity before his eyes. He felt so ashamed of letting his worst come out in front of the people he cared about the most.
Because his father had already suffered loss, and it wasn't fair for him to have a son who would soon lose everything he worked for. Because his mother had given her life for the greater good, and now her little rabbit was dishonoring her memory, risking her own grave for his gambling debts. Because Inej had been through so much and had fought so hard to stay afloat in the troubled waters of Ketterdam, she didn't deserve a friend with an obsession for cards that put her life in danger like Jesper. Because Kaz was a bastard, but in all those years, he had never turned his back on Jesper, despite all his flaws. Because Nina had always put others before herself and had the courage to take a poison like parem when Jesper could never do it. Because Matthias was so honorable and sincere that he could change his mind and turn hate into love, while Jesper was so afraid of getting attached to someone that he had lived a life of fun out of fear of being abandoned once again. Because Wylan could have escaped that day at the harbor, he could have taken that ship and left behind the horrible life his father had given him, but he had come back and stayed by Jesper side when he needed it the most.
Maybe Inej was right, and Jesper really had something broken inside him. There was something to fix, and he had been ignoring it for too long. Now he had reached a point where the gears were no longer turning on their own, the mechanism had started to smoke and spark, and it would soon explode if Jesper didn't do something fast.
Yet, at that moment, every molecule in his body begged him to escape, go out in search of the nearest club, and sit at a table to lose the little money and dignity he had left.
While he was pacing, notes began to alternate his steps. He turned his head toward the sound. It must have been the piano he had seen in the living room at the end of the hallway. His legs changed direction before his mind could align with his movements. When he found himself at the door, he saw Wylan sitting there, with a bored expression, casually tapping his index finger on the same key.
"I like that. Has a great beat - you can dance to it," Jesper joked. Wylan turned and greeted him with a smirk. Jesper walked around the room, scanning everything around him, from the purple wallpaper to the blown glass ships observing him from the cabinet. "Can you play my song?" he asked, approaching him.
Wylan remained silent and lowered his gaze to the keyboard, as if wondering what to do.
"What's wrong? Are you embarrassed?" Jesper gave him a playful nudge and sat next to him on the stool. "I swear on my favorite hat I won't make fun of you." Jesper crossed on his heart and then on his hat, waiting to hear Wylan's clear laughter.
But Wylan still didn't say anything, and as much as Jesper tried to seek his gaze to understand what was going on in his head, his amber eyes remained low. Only when he looked at the hands resting on the keyboard did he understand.
"Kuwei!" Jesper jumped up ashamed by his mistake. Wylan's fingers were longer; he had a few freckles on the back of his hands, and now, looking closely, Jesper noticed the absence of the mole on the nape that had always helped him distinguish them. "Sorry, I- I thought-" He didn't know what to say, realizing only at that moment that he followed the sound of the piano only because he wanted to see Wylan. He didn't think for a minute about the possibility of not finding him.
Kuwei seemed hurt for a moment, then immediately annoyed. He stood in front of Jesper and said vehemently: "What does he have that I don't? We have the same face, why do you always look at him?" Jesper was still, taken aback by Kuwei's unexpectedly heated reaction, while the Shu boy tapped his index finger on his chest and scolded him. "You are Grisha, I am Grisha. This is not your place; he is not a person suited for you. But you always and only keep looking at him, and I'm fed up. I deserve someone who looks at me, and you're too stupid to—" Kuwei had heated up so much that his fingers had become hot, but neither of them noticed until Jesper's mustard-colored vest caught fire.
"Saints!" Jesper exclaimed in shock, while Kuwei instinctively took a step back, ending up stumbling into the piano bench and colliding with the keyboard. In an instant, however, Kuwei recovered from the surprise, grabbed Jesper by the collar to pull him closer, and with a quick touch of his hand, extinguished the flame.
At that exact moment, the real Wylan appeared at the door, looking at them with an expression of pain and anger. Jesper lowered his gaze to Kuwei still clinging to his chest, and it was evident even to him how that scene must have appeared to an external observer.
"Oh, for all the Saints..." he sighed exhaustedly and tried to straighten his wrinkled clothes.
"Sorry if I interrupted you," Wylan commented acidly.
"Wy..." Jesper tried to explain.
"Kaz wants us in the sitting room," he interrupted him and immediately disappeared, not giving Jesper another chance to speak.
Jesper kept his eyes fixed on the spot where Wylan had just vanished. Kuwei's voice, still beneath him, said, "It's better this way. You're Grisha; he's not right for you."
"Oh, really? And who is right for me? Who decides that?" Jesper turned to him with such a hostile tone that for a moment, he didn't recognize himself, but he had also lost the last little patience he had left. "I'm tired of being told what to do or not to do just because I was born like this. I didn't ask to be a Grisha, and I won't let anyone tell me how to be myself anymore."
With nervous and jerky movements, he left the room, leaving Kuwei behind, and the smell of burnt fabric in his nostrils only fueled all the anger that urged him to move forward. As he walked toward the room where the rest of the group had already gathered, he stopped for a moment in front of a floral-patterned couch. He squeezed his fingers tightly on the armrest, and the threads of the fabric obediently slid off from the rest of the upholstery. Then, he took the damaged portion of the vest between his fingers and, concentrating all his thoughts on the burnt threads of his clothes and the intact ones of the couch, he created a small patch with what he had managed to reconstruct and adjusted the color as best as he could to match the original. Near the couch was a mirror; he looked at himself satisfied with his work and tried to ignore the deep exhaustion that showed under his gray eyes.
"If I have to die tomorrow, at least I'll be well-dressed," he muttered to himself before joining the others.
Jesper didn't quite know where to look; his eyes darted convulsively from Kaz, who was explaining the auction plan, to Wylan, who was doing his best to ignore him, and then to his father, who seemed so out of place amidst that gang of Barrel runaways. He tried to focus all his attention on the proceedings; if something went wrong, there would be no second chances this time. They spent hours in the sitting room, Kaz looking exhausted as he sat in an armchair, with his injured leg propped up on a small table, continually providing answers to their various doubts. But despite Dirtyhands always finding a solution to any potential problem they faced, Jesper didn't feel reassured at all. Part of the plan involved using his father as bait, assigning him a role to play and praying that no one realized he was just Colm Fahey, not Johannus Rietveld, the landowner who had come to Ketterdam on business. Everyone had their part to play in ensuring that everything went smoothly: Matthias and Kaz would accompany Kuwei, that Shu boy would be the prize put on display for all the scum who drooled at the idea of buying a kid to exploit like a slave; Nina would take care of saving the Grisha and creating an escape route for them with a good dose of panic for a new pandemic; Inej would hold her bloody rival off; Jesper would do what he did best, which was shooting, and Wylan absolutely needed his old face or nothing would make sense.
"Kaz, one last thing." There had been silence for a moment, the questions finally seemed to have ended, but the merchling must have been thinking for so long what he wanted to say that not even Kaz's exhausted glare could keep him from speaking.
"What is it now?" he sighed resignedly, rubbing his eyes.
"Professor Levi." Wylan swallowed uncomfortably. "She doesn't know about the Kherguud."
"The other Grisha will warn her; we all know each other in the city," Nina intervened to reassure him.
"No, you don't understand. No one knows she's a Grisha; I don't think she's in contact with anyone. She hides well, but she can't do it forever; the Shu will find her." Jesper felt as if those words were meant for him. Their situation wasn't so different after all; how much longer could he live in a world that wanted him dead so badly? He remembered the soldier's eyes, the weight of his body on top of him, the panic of being sure he wouldn't make it that time.
"If she's that good, she'll find a way." Kaz had no intention of adding further risk to the already complicated plan; that was evident.
"She's alone against who knows how many of those invincible soldiers, Kaz," Nina rebuked him threateningly.
"She's managed so far; she doesn't need some Barrel rat to save her. She's not a damsel in distress; she's a powerful Grisha."
"I can't believe you, you're always—" Nina had risen from the couch with an indignant expression. Matthias held her back by the sleeve, but she paid no attention to his touch.
"Nina, stop it." Wylan's authoritative tone surprised them enough to create a bubble of silence in the room. "That's not how you should talk to Kaz. He doesn't get it; he can't understand."
Dirtyhands' eyes narrowed threateningly, and his hands tightened dangerously around the silver crow's head of his cane. "Merchling, I know you're getting your face fixed soon. But do you think it's a good idea to get it filled with bruises right now?"
"Kaz..." Inej called out to him. She hadn't intervened until now; her eyes flickered worriedly to Jesper, and he felt guilty once again. They had already made her endure a pointless fight; these arguments only served to ruin the little balance they had restored.
Wylan clenched his fists, keeping his gaze high. "Kaz can't understand because this isn't his language. He only understands one thing: profit. And I have a convenient exchange to offer him."
The bastard of the Barrel's furrowed eyebrows lifted for a second, betraying his interest. He studied the merchling with his icy eyes before rising and telling him, "Follow me while I still have the patience to listen."
Without adding a word, they left the room, Kaz striding with long steps measured from the tap of his cane and Wylan hurrying after him with a nervous air.
Kaz had just returned from his meeting with the Dregs, and although things were supposed to have gone well, the marks on his face indicated it hadn't been an easy negotiation. However, they had no time to waste; the Ravkan delegation was waiting at the hotel baths, and Kaz had no intention of stopping to rest; he was ready for his new negotiation. Jesper looked around for Wylan and as soon as he saw him, he followed him down the hallway, towards the elevator that would take them to the meeting.
"Hey," Jesper tried to call out, but Wylan quickened his pace, ignoring him. Not that it made a difference to Jesper; in a few strides, he had caught up enough to block his path and prevent him from avoiding him any longer. "Listen, about what you saw... This thing with Kuwei isn't a thing."
"You don't owe me an explanation. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want," he replied hostilely, his amber eyes scanning for an escape route beyond Jesper's shoulder.
"Wait, Wy. There is no thing with Kuwei, nothing happened. It was a misunderstanding." With those words, Wylan finally met his gaze, waiting for him to continue. "Kuwei was sitting at the piano; I thought it was you—"
"You really can't tell us apart?" He interrupted indignantly. "We grew up together, and Kuwei and I are nothing alike! He's not even that good at science! Half of his notebooks are full of doodles. Mostly of you. And those aren't good either!"
"Really? Doodles of me?" Jesper asked, taken aback, but when Wylan rolled his eyes annoyed, he realized he was losing him. "No, sorry. It's not important. What I wanted to say is that I know what it must have looked like, but I swear nothing happened. As soon as I realized it wasn't you, I... I mean, I don't exactly know what I wanted to do; I was looking for you, and when I saw Kuwei at the piano..." Only then Jesper paused to think about what he would have done if Wylan had been sitting on that stool. The words wouldn't come out, his eyes fixed on Wylan's mouth, the merchling watched him perplexed, waiting for him to go on, and at that moment, Jesper understood what he really wanted and how long he had desired it. Suddenly, he returned to be the boy who secretly dreamed of kissing his best friend. Or maybe he had never stopped being him; he had simply silenced that thrill he felt inside every time he thought of Wylan.
"Jes, forget it," Jesper was so stunned that he couldn't fill the silence, and Wylan interrupted his thoughts. "Is that all you wanted to tell me?"
"No, I wanted to give you this." He rummaged in his jacket for the small painted canvas. "I took it when we were in Saint Hilde. I thought it might come handy if Genya's going to try to put you back to your old merchling self."
"My mother printed this?" Wylan's eyes sparkled as he delicately took the painting, treating the small object with measured respect.
"It was in that room full of her art."
"It's how she remembers me. She never got to see me grow up." He studied it more closely, and Jesper also leaned in to observe the tiny traces of paint that composed that small face. "It's so old. I don't know if it will be useful."
"It's still you." Jesper stroked the image with his finger. "Same curls. Same worried little divot between the brows."
"And you took it because you thought it might become handy?" Wylan finally looked up to give him a confused glance.
"I told you, I like your stupid face." Jesper grinned as he saw Wylan's cheeks blush as usual. "And besides, you're exactly as I remembered here. A little freckled, well-mannered tyke. They always made you wear those little suits, you looked like a miniature merchant." His satisfaction was even greater when he heard Wylan laugh.
"Thank you, Jes." Wylan's tone, the sweet way he looked at him, confirmed even more what Jesper couldn't help but think: "I want to kiss him."
"You're welcome." Jesper hesitated. "If you're headed down to the baths, I could come with you. If you wanted."
Wylan nodded anxiously. "I'd like that."
It was certainly reassuring that the meeting with the Ravkan Grisha hadn't turned out to be a trap, but tailoring the merchling's face took several hours. After an initial interest in Genya's great skills, Zoya's tempestuous temperament, and Sturmhond's staggering charisma, Jesper had begun to get bored. Time passed with modifications and suggestions; occasionally, Jesper intervened, advising to lengthen the lashes or narrow the forehead, making Wylan blush with all that attention. Of course, that curious little head who found the merchling couldn't miss the opportunity to ask questions about the Grisha. Jesper didn't feel comfortable and began to wander around the room, pretending to ignore Genya's stories about life in Ravka, about how the Grisha were trained to control their powers and how their abilities were a gift and not a curse. He hated admitting it even to himself, but he couldn't help but imagine that kind of life that if only he hadn't been so cowardly, he could have had. But then Wylan admitted he couldn't read, and Jesper froze. He couldn't understand how he had trusted so much to show his greatest weakness to a complete stranger who could have used his vulnerability against him. He loved the way Wylan saw the world, always with a lens of kindness. But some secrets could kill, and life had shown him so many times only in the last few weeks.
The smell of clay was strong, and Jesper decided to take a break from that agony, pretending to prepare tea for everyone, he walked away from the baths, and when he returned, he almost dropped the cups when he saw Wylan sitting in the late afternoon light with his Wy's appearance. The fairytale of the lonely and lost prince, the one he associated with Wylan since they were children, came back to his mind. After that dive into the past, it took him a few moments to return to the present.
Throughout the journey on the elevator that took them back to the suite, Jesper continued to throw furtive glances at Wylan. He was tired and hungry, but he felt a strange energy in his body. It had been weeks since their first meeting in the laboratory, and yet just having him nearby increased the pace of his heartbeats; he felt like an insecure and confused teenager again.
The explosion of fireworks in the distance caught their attention, Jesper approached the window, and immediately, Wylan joined him. The colorful streaks sparkled in the now dark sky of the Staves; it was easy for him to imagine the excitement that was at the Barrel at that moment; after all, he had been part of it himself countless times. Another burst exploded, and the light of the fireworks reflected in Wylan's clear eyes. Jesper had really missed that clear shade, a summer sky in Novyi Zem enclosed in a gaze.
"Did you have her make you better-looking?" The question escaped from his private thoughts without any control.
"Maybe you forgot how handsome I am." Wylan pinked, but he still looked at him with a small smile. "It wouldn't be the first time, you forget faces kinda easily."
Jesper laughed at his put-down. "How many times do I have to tell you I have many other qualities?"
Wylan had returned to enjoy the sight of the fireworks that continued to paint the night sky, but Jesper had already lost interest. The only thing he could watch was the reflection of Wy in the window glass; if he concentrated hard enough, perhaps he could distinguish the freckles that had finally returned to color his nose and cheeks.
"I know what you were doing back there," Jesper spoke as the shots continued behind him. "You didn't have to tell her you can't read; it's your thing, and you don't have to tell random people just to convince me that there's nothing wrong with showing one's weaknesses."
Wylan looked at him sternly. "Weaknesses? Do you think being a Durast is a weakness?" he asked, his brown eyebrows furrowed. "Jes, I just don't get it. I've spent my whole life hiding things I can't do. Why run from amazing things that you can do?"
"I know who I am, what I'm good at, what I can do and can't do. I'm just... I'm what I am. A great shooter, a bad gambler . Why can't that be enough?"
"Enough for who?"
"Don't get philosophical on me, merchling."
"Jes, I've thought about this..."
"Thought of me? Late at night? What was I wearing?" It was stronger than him; that conversation was getting too deep, and irony was his way of escaping from the seriousness.
"I've thought about your powers," Wylan said, blushing. "Has it ever occurred to you that your Grisha ability might be part of the reason you're such a good shoot? Your mother taught you how to use guns; it's likely you learned to manipulate metal precisely because of her—"
"Why do you have to say things like that? Why can't you just let things be easy?" The need to move became more intense; thoughts raced through his head, and even his legs wanted to follow that example. He was a good gunman, why did there have to be something more to it? That fact was enough; there was no need to search for additional motivations.
"Because they're not easy."
"Wylan, I'm not a machine to be dismantled to understand how it works. You can't take all the pieces off and study me. I'm not ashamed of who I am, but I'm just myself, nothing more."
"Jesper, I didn't talk to Genya because I had to prove something to you, but because I realized that showing myself completely for who I am makes me feel relieved." Wylan stared at him with those penetrating eyes, and Jesper didn't know what to say. "You know, the first person I told was Kaz."
"Of all people, him." Jesper snorted. He had been friends with Kaz for years, but he had never managed to feel safe with him.
"The only person who knew about my… condition was my father, and he always made me feel so wrong. He forced me to leave Novyi Zem just on suspicion that you knew about it. I thought Kaz would despise me and laugh at me for being like this; I was terrified because the only reaction I had experienced to this "flaw" of mine was my father's anger. But instead, Kaz didn't do anything like that, and his acceptance made me feel so... Light, authentic."
"When did you tell him?"
"That night on the Ferolind." Wylan looked away, ashamed. Jesper often thought back to that moment and how scared Wylan was, thinking that the only way out was to put a bullet in his head. "I had to explain to Kaz why I was so sure my father wanted me dead, so I told him about the attempted murder."
Jesper startled. "What are you talking about?"
Wylan rummaged in his jacket pocket and pulled out his mother's pin. "Do you remember I had to sell it? I used it to bribe the two thugs my father had hired to kill me. I thought I had gotten away with it, but they must have sold it to some pawnshop that informed my father, and so he found out I wasn't really dead. It was only a matter of time; I knew he would try again, and—"
Jesper grabbed him by the shoulders and hugged him tightly. He took him so off guard that Wylan couldn't finish the sentence, but he simply wrapped his arms around his torso and hugged him back with the same intensity as Jesper.
"Jes." Wylan's voice came muffled; his head was still hidden on Jesper's chest. He loosened his grip to look him in the face. "You keep pretending everything's okay. You move on to the next fight or the next party. What are you afraid is going to happen if you stop?"
Jesper completely broke free from the hug; his fingers instinctively ran over the buttons of his shirt, then immediately on the revolvers. Again, that frantic need to escape.
"Stop." Wylan put a hand on his shoulder to draw his attention, and only then did Jesper realize he was out of breath. "Just stop. Breathe."
And Jesper obeyed. Wylan's blue eyes kept him glued to the floor; his chest rose and fell first rhythmically, then slower and slower. His mind was clearing; he began to feel present again, the grip of Wylan on his shoulders, and his crystal-clear gaze fixed on his mouth. Like one of the fireworks exploding in the distance, the thought of a kiss burst in his mind again. He didn't have time to express that desire before Wylan fulfilled it. He leaned forward and kissed him.
Now he felt the fireworks everywhere; the thrill of their mouths finally meeting was everything he had ever imagined. He grabbed him by the hips and pulled him closer and closer until all the distance between them was closed. The kiss became deeper and more intense. Wylan's arms crossed behind his neck; he had no intention of breaking that spell, but inevitably, slowly, they broke apart to catch their breath.
"Wy, I really hope we don't die." The words came out as a whisper, as if he were revealing an unconfessable secret.
"Me too, Jes." Wylan replied softly; his lips were still so close that Jesper could feel their warmth. And Jesper was ready to start kissing him again, but Wylan withdrew. He moved his face into the hollow of his neck, and for a fraction of a second, Jesper felt disappointed, until Wylan's wet mouth began to leave small kisses on his skin. "But if we are risking to die," he said, alternating the touch of his lips with words that he whispered lightly on Jesper's neck, giving him continuous shivers, "don't you think we should spend the little time we have with... no regrets?"
"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Jesper asked, trying with all his might to concentrate. Wylan murmured what seemed like consent while continuing to kiss his neck. Jesper enjoyed every second of that sensation, his eyes closed, waiting for Wylan's lips until suddenly he felt a light bite near his collarbone. That was definitely too much; he took Wylan by the shoulders to pull him away from his neck and saw in his face the disappointment of being interrupted. "You made some excellent arguments; you convinced me." He said, grinning cockily before picking him up, putting him over his shoulder, and dragging him into the first empty room he could find. Wylan laughed and squirmed. "Put me down, Jes!"
"You asked for it, merchling."
"Are you sure you want to come?" Jesper lounged on a couch, watching as Inej meticulously sharpened her knives, one after the other. Her wounds were not yet fully healed, and on the day of the auction, she would have to face Dunyasha once again.
"I don't need a babysitter, Jes. I know what I'm doing," she replied without lifting her gaze from the gleaming blades.
"Neither do I need an escort, but Kaz wants—"
"The last encounter with this old and kind Professor proved that you do need one," Inej interrupted, casting him a disdainful smirk.
"That's hitting below the belt."
"Hers are low blows too, which is why I'm coming with you." Inej's hands were lightning-fast as she sheathed the knives into various pockets scattered across her clothing. "Where's Wylan?" she asked once she completed her armament.
"Why are you asking me?" Jesper shrugged. The sun had set just recently, but darkness was descending rapidly, and they had no time to waste.
"Because you're the guy with a neck covered in hickies bearing Van Eck Junior's signature," Inej nodded towards the marks that adorned Jesper's dark skin.
He didn't even try to hide the satisfied expression that grew on his face as he recalled the previous night. "You should see the other guy."
At that moment, Wylan appeared in the room with an anxious face. "Are you ready? Can we go?"
"We're ready," confirmed Inej, making her way towards the exit. Jesper quickly got up and followed them into the hallway.
Wylan had darted ahead and was leading them to the rooftop of the building. From there, Inej would help them reach the palace opposite to the hotel, from there she could provide them a more discreet exit route through the canal that would take them to the University District.
Jesper noticed Inej staring intently at Wylan, as if she was searching for something. Then, she scolded him in a whisper, "You're the same braggart as always, no sign on his neck."
Jesper struggled to hold back a laugh. "Darling, he's wearing too many clothes for you to see my masterpiece."
Inej nudged him in the ribs, and he made a muffled sound of pain that made Wylan turn around. "What are you two doing?" he asked perplexed, seeing Jesper bent over clutching his side and Inej shrugging innocently.
"We're discussing art," Jesper replied, feigning innocence, while Inej covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a laugh.
Wylan tilted his head in confusion, but quickly resumed climbing up the ladder to the roof. "I don't know what you're hiding from me, but I think I'm good like that," he said, disappearing upwards.
Jesper had never been to that part of the university district before. Not that he had been around for long; he had left school a few months after arriving in Ketterdam, so he hadn't explored beyond the faculty buildings and libraries. The street they had sneaked into was quiet and neat; not only because there were no students around, the lack of any human presence was overall. It didn't even seem like Ketterdam; it was almost surreal. The houses were small but stately, two-story brick buildings, all alike and lined up in rows.
"The academic staff has housing provided by the university, although many prefer to own their own homes," Wylan had explained a few hours before leaving the hotel.
"And how do we know which apartment she lives in? Does the professor's pet even know her home address?"
Wylan stuck out his tongue at him, but it was Inej who answered his question. "I followed her last night. The place seems very quiet, but we'll split up. You two go together while I stay on the opposite roof, ready to intervene if needed."
"Okay, sounds like a plan. But how do we get in? Knock on the door and hope it's not too late for tea time?"
Wylan chewed on his thumb thoughtfully. "We'll figure it out when we get there. Until we see the place, we won't know how to get inside."
Even now, facing the elegant brick building, Jesper was doubtful. His hands were already placed on the grips of his revolvers in case the plan turned out to be a terrible one. Inej had already vanished into the shadows, leaving only the two of them to face an elderly lady. What could possibly go wrong?
"Jes," Wylan called him in a whisper. "Can you figure out how the lock works?" He gestured to the large wooden door. Jesper approached slowly and ran his fingers along the surface of the door.
"Saints," he hissed, amazed at the amount of Grisha steel he sensed. "I have no idea what this is; I think there's an exact combination to trigger the pistons. Then, I could be wrong, but I smell... gunpowder?"
"I suspected. There's an explosive trap. And probably all the other entrances have similar systems. I'd say breaking in is out of the question, if we don't want to blow ourselves up."
"I couldn't expect anything less from your teacher."
"I learned from the best," Wylan smiled, clearly proud to have been her student. Then he stepped back from the entrance and looked up to the second floor. The windows were closed, and not a single light could be seen. "If she's prepared a similar welcome, she'll be expecting guests. I think it's time to announce ourselves."
"Do you really want to knock on the door? I was kidding when I said-"
"Here, take this." Wylan handed him a small metallic object.
Jesper turned the object over in his hands; it looked like a twig that split into two ends, and he immediately noticed something. "It's an alloy mixed with Grisha steel. Wy, you're carrying around a Grisha steel thing."
"It's not a 'thing'; it's my mother's tuning fork. It's used to tune musical instruments."
"And what do I do with it?" Jesper loved the feeling of that material on his skin, but he had no idea what was going on in the merchling's head.
"I want you to make it vibrate." Wylan tried to explain, but seeing Jesper's confusion, he tried again. "It's like with the bullets, Jes. This tool is made to propagate a frequency of about 421 hertz when swung. See, like this." Wylan took back the tuning fork and gently struck the forked end on the ground. The vibration was intense, it soon spread through the air all around them, giving Jesper a strange sense of nausea.
"Alright, stop it now." Jesper snatched it from him, and as soon as he closed his fingers around the two ends, the metal stopped oscillating, soothing his ears.
"I want you to transmit the vibration from the tuning fork to the house. Metal and wood are excellent conductors of sound, which is why they're used to build musical instruments."
"What's the point of all this, merchling?" Jesper raised an eyebrow, waiting for the part where all this would make sense.
"To let her know we're not hostile. We're politely knocking on her door."
"What makes you think she won't attack us anyway? She already tried-"
Wylan became extremely defensive when it came to that woman. "Professor Levi never intended to harm us; she-"
"Wy, she chained us with a single gesture, as if it was nothing." Jesper continued to whisper, but his voice grew more agitated. "She's not a sweet old lady; she can kill us and use our bodies for her next anatomy lesson."
"Don't be ridiculous; she teaches chemistry." Wylan flashed an uncertain smile. "Jes, please. Trust me. And even if everything goes wrong, you have your guns, I have my bombs, and Inej is right here."
"What if-" Jesper began to protest, but Wylan quickly gave him a pleading look, so the only thing he could do was surrender. "Alright, We'll try your plan."
"Thank you, Jes." Wylan gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and Jesper couldn't help but think that boy would be the death of him.
He took a deep breath before firmly grasping the tuning fork and striking it against the brass door knocker. The firm grip on the vibrating Grisha steel put him in contact with every tiny fragment of the door. He sensed the molecules starting to vibrate, then spreading and making their way farther and farther, penetrating beyond the door and running along the parquet floor, the wrought iron railing, the legs of an armchair, a rosewood table, the lampshade on top. Every material sensation reverberated within him at the same speed as the wave that propagated. Jesper almost felt terrified by how satisfying it was to feel his power take over the surrounding world, to touch and explore it as if it were at his disposal.
It lasted only a few tens of seconds, but to Jesper, it felt like hours. The oscillation gradually ceased, leaving him with a sense of emptiness. Wylan grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the door. Jesper swallowed, his hands ready near the holsters, waiting. But nothing seemed to have changed.
"Wy, are you sure-" Jesper had just begun to speak when a sudden stinging sensation burned his arm; when he lowered his eyes, he saw a syringe with a tip so long and sharp that it had pierced the sleeve of his coat to reach the skin.
"Jes!" Wylan tried to approach, but a second syringe pierced the arm he had stretched out toward him. Barely a moment had passed since they were hit; perhaps there was still time for Jesper to clean their blood of whatever had been injected into them. But he had no idea how to do it; he had never been much of an Alkemi, let alone tried to rid himself of a poison. He would never, not after what had happened to his mother.
"Sodium thiopental." The woman had taken advantage of their distraction to appear on the doorstep, watching them impassively in her long lace black dress. "In case you hadn't recognized it, Hendriks."
"Truth serum..." Wylan whispered hoarsely. "It's not lethal. Not in these doses." Perhaps he thought it to be reassuring, but Jesper didn't feel any better. He angrily pulled the syringe from his arm.
"Your weapons." The professor kicked a wooden box in front of her. After a moment of her icy gaze, she turned her back and disappeared into the house, leaving the door wide open.
Wylan didn't hesitate for a moment longer; he dumped the contents of his bag into the box, filling it with flash bombs, various explosives, and other small vials containing liquids and powders of different colors.
"What are you doing?" Jesper approached cautiously, his eyes darting from inside the house to the merchling, still busy emptying his pockets.
"Her house, her rules," he replied firmly. "She's letting us in peacefully; she just wants to make sure we're not a threat."
"And you call impaling us with poisonous darts 'peaceful'?" At that moment, the hoot of an owl caught their attention. Wylan turned toward the roof where the sound had come from and responded to Inej, mimicking the same call to reassure her that everything was okay.
"We have our precautions," Wylan gestured to wherever the Wraith was hiding, "She has hers." Then he moved the wooden box in front of Jesper, waiting for him to also get rid of all his weapons.
"She'd better give them back to me, or I swear I'll send that professor into early retirement." With a dry tone, he put the revolvers back in the case.
The house was very dark; only one light guided them to a sitting room, elegantly furnished but not too lavish, as Jesper had seen in some merchants' villas he had sneaked into.
"Please, sit down." Professor Levi had settled into a velvet armchair; in front of her, a wooden table held a tea set. Wylan sat stiffly on the small couch opposite the woman, Jesper followed suit. "I took the liberty of preparing an infusion for you. I don't often have guests; I hope it's to your liking." She began pouring the steaming liquid into three porcelain cups, leaving a fourth empty. "In case your friend wants to join us later," she explained when she met Jesper's perplexed gaze.
"How?" Jesper asked bluntly, unsure if he felt angry or scared. Inej moved so lightly, she was a shadow in the night. "How did you know?"
The professor gave a slight smile, then handed each of them a cup. "I have my methods; there are many different traps that leave no trace to those who don't know where to look." She sipped from her cup and watched them, waiting for them to do the same.
"Do you think by showing us that you're drinking, you'll convince us to do the same? We're not idiots; you're an Alkemi master. If there's any poison in there, you'll surely know how to survive it." Jesper was surprised to hear that tone from Wylan, like he forgot about etiquette.
"I see the serum is taking effect," she chuckled at the merchling's impudence, so out of character. "Did you know its inhibitory effect, Hendriks?"
"Yes," Wylan admitted. "And I also know that the amount you've administered will soon be assimilated by our bodies. You have about thirty minutes before the effect wears off."
"Then I think it's time to begin. I'm very curious to know what brings you here, Hendriks."
"Why do you keep calling me that? You know my real name."
"Of course I know. And it wasn't hard to remember, given the number of posters around town offering a reward for returning you to your loving family. I confess they weren't very flattering in depicting you. But the same can't be said of the Tailor who restored your appearance, what a masterpiece of technique."
"It was Genya Safin."
"The triumvirate is here?" The professor betrayed her interest; her eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Not all of them; David Kostyk isn't here."
"What a pity; I would have liked to see him again." She returned to sipping her infusion.
Jesper didn't stop to think; the words came out uncontrollably. "Great, then go to Ravka."
The woman's thin lips twisted into an annoyed grimace. "Excuse me? Am I to interpret this invitation as a threat?"
"No, professor!" Wylan almost jumped on the couch. "Actually, we're here for that reason. We have some information, and for your safety, it's better that you leave the city."
"Explain." She placed the cup on the table, giving all her attention to Wylan.
Jesper remained silent, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers and fighting the urge to move, as he listened to Wylan recount about parem, Kuwei, the auction, the Shu delegation, the Kherghuud, and their plan to save all the Grisha in the city. "But you can get away!" Wylan had an anxious tone; the words rushed out one after the other, betraying all his anxiety. "Just follow the directions we'll give you, and you can leave for Ravka; that way, you'll be safe, and-"
"Wylan." The professor had followed his long speech without saying anything, but suddenly she interrupted him. "Do you know how long I've been living here?"
The merchling didn't know how to react to that sudden shift to his first name. "No, I don't."
"I swore a long time ago that war would no longer dictate my life. This is my home, and there isn't a soldier in the world who will take it from me."
"Professor, please reconsider it. The Grisha-"
"And what about you? Will you run away too, young Fabrikator?" The woman turned to Jesper.
"I'll shoot until I have the strength to keep my finger on the trigger," he replied without hesitation. He felt Wylan's worried gaze on him, but she smiled pleased.
"If that's all you needed to tell me, thank you for your concern. But I'm old enough to take care of myself."
"No, I'm not finished." Wylan sounded defeated. "There's one last thing I need to tell you, and then... we need your help."
The professor sighed, then looked at the bottom of her cup, now empty. "I suspect we'll all need another cup of tea."
They spent another hour talking; Jesper watched the two scientists discuss, evaluate more efficient methods, and consider the use of new materials. He lent a hand as much as he could, with his limited knowledge as a Durast, but as interesting as it might be, he soon grew bored and wondered how Inej could spend all that time in the shadows, waiting, studying people and environments with patience. When they finally finished, Jesper was the first to go to the door. He couldn't wait to get his guns back and get out of there.
"Professor, can I-" Wylan asked when they were on the doorstep.
"Reeta," she corrected him. "Just Reeta. I'm no longer your professor."
Jesper saw Wylan genuinely smile, like when they were kids. "Reeta, can I ask you about the light bulbs?" He gestured to one of the strange lamps that filled the house and that Jesper had noticed produced light through a kind of glass ball. "You said they were imported from Ravka, am I right? Can I ask you how? Who gave them to you?"
"Next time." She opened the door for them, silently inviting them to leave. "Let me keep some secrets for tonight."
It almost seemed impossible that everything had gone so smoothly. Wylan looked like a child just went out of a candy store as they walked toward the alley where they had left their boat. They had signaled to Inej as soon as they had left; she would be waiting for them in the canal, and they would immediately return to the hotel.
"Saints, you really like to talk about science." Jesper stretched his arms. Suddenly he felt really tired.
"Sorry, did you get bored?"
"No, no. Absolutely not." The lie was so obvious that Wylan laughed. "Okay, a little. But you were cute doing your little scientist things, teacher's pet."
"I wonder what you would do if you didn't have me to tease. How would you spend your days?"
"Probably at a gambling table giving away money I don't have."
"Jes, stop it. You're more than that, and you know it." Wylan took his hand and squeezed it. If they hadn't been two fugitives hiding in a dark street, they might have looked like any other couple walking hand in hand.
"I need to work on this thing that I'm not some dregs. At least not literally, because in fact, I'm one of the Dregs."
Wylan was watching him with a thoughtful expression. "Jes, I was thinking that, well, since the professor is staying in Ketterdam, you know, it would be logical..."
"If you keep dancing around it so much, your head will spin."
"You could ask Professor Levi to teach you to control your power," he said in one breath.
The feeling of anxiety was instant. Jesper's brain screamed at him to run, to make a stupid joke, to flirt to avoid having to answer and pretend that conversation had never happened. But then he met Wylan's clear eyes, his hand still holding his like he had held it to keep him from running away before kissing him just a few nights before. The instinct to flee seemed less urgent. Maybe he could really stop and handle the situation.
"I'll think about it." And those words were enough to light up Wylan's face.
They turned toward the canal; Inej hidden inside the boat greeted them with a smile.
The timid rays of sunlight began to filter into the room. Wylan's head was comfortably nestled on Jesper's chest while the Zemeni run his fingers through the thick curls. It was already dawn, and neither of them could sleep. The auction would be held in a few hours, and it was impossible not to think about it, no matter how relaxing it was to be wrapped up in each other's arms under the covers.
"Jes, can I ask you a question?" Wylan asked, turning to search for his gaze and preventing Jesper from continuing to play with his hair.
"Oh Saints, should I be worried?"
"I don't know, I guess it depends on your answer. So, brace yourself." Wylan had turned onto his stomach, with his elbows propped up on the mattress to keep himself upright.
"Okay, I'm ready, shoot."
"You always think about shooting." Wylan rolled his eyes, but couldn't maintain the exasperated expression, which immediately turned into a smile when Jesper laughed. Then he continued. "When did you remember?"
"Oh no, please, don't embarrass me like this." Jesper covered his face with his arm in shame.
"Come on, I recognized you immediately, even though you've grown, like what, another twenty centimeters?"
"From that perspective, you haven't changed much." Jesper teased him and took the arm from his face. Wylan didn't lose the chance to take revenge by biting his arm. "I thought they would educate the little merchants."
"It's not wise to provoke me, I know dangerous people. Have you ever heard of Dirtyhands? And what about the Wraith?"
"Wow, you weren't kidding. Those are really bad guys."
"Yeah, so you better answer my questions by hook, or I'll be forced to extract all the information I need from you by crook." Wylan clicked his teeth, ready to bite again.
"I surrender, you win." Jesper signaled surrender by raising his hands. "Do you remember the Ice Court?"
"It's hard to forget that we orchestrated an escape from Fjerda's maximum-security prison. Yes, I remember."
"Even before that, there were times when I thought it was you, but I kept telling myself that if it really was you, you would say something." Wylan looked at him with his face resting on his wrists, Jesper pushed a curl behind his ear. "Until there was that moment when Inej arrived with Tante Heleen's diamonds. I was trying to carve them, you had to assemble the drill, Inej kept shouting at me to hurry up, in short, it was such a mess that my head was spinning. And then they started shooting at us, Inej had already run away, and I hadn't even noticed. I heard a crazy shot and I jumped on top of you to cover you. And then I understood."
"You're really fixated on shots." Wylan chuckled.
"No, it's not the shot that made me understand. Listen, it's embarrassing."
"I swear I won't make fun of you, Jesper Llewellyn Fahey." Wylan solemnly placed a hand on his heart to confirm his oath.
"You're horrible, I'll never tell you." Jesper punished him by pinching his nose with two fingers.
"Oh come on, pretty please," Wylan whined nasally. "Jeeeees."
"Alright, fine." Jesper released his nose and sighed before continuing. "When I saw you beneath me, I had a flashback. You were closing your eyes from the blow, and I remembered a time when you fell asleep under the willow tree. Do you remember the willow tree by the river? There was one summer when we always went there because it was so cool. I think we were 11 and 12 years old."
"I remember, I made a lot of sketches under that willow."
"I know, you filled me with your drawings."
"Well, you filled me with the little toys you made with your mom."
"Is this a competition?"
"No, sorry, go on. What does the willow have to do with it?"
"One afternoon, you fell asleep under it, right when I was reading a book to you."
"Sorry," Wylan covered his mouth, but the guilty chuckle still managed to escape.
"I only realized now why you used to ask me to read to you, you said you liked hearing my voice."
"Well, that wasn't a lie. You have a nice voice. But why didn't you wake me up?"
"Because you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to disturb you. So, I just stayed there watching you."
"It's very hard for me to imagine you being still without doing anything." Although Jesper was the one embarrassed at that moment, Wylan's cheeks turned a soft rosy color.
"How many times do I have to tell you that I like your face?"
"Did you...? Even back then?" Wylan widened his eyes, now he was completely red-faced trying to cover himself with his hands.
"I remember realizing it that afternoon. As I looked at you, I just thought that I wanted to kiss you," Jesper thought admitting how taken he was by him would be scary, but the merchling's reaction was making it quite amusing.
"I can't believe it," Wylan sank into the mattress, his face hidden under the covers.
"Is that unbelievable?"
"No, it's just that..." Wylan's face suddenly emerged from the covers. "Me too. I had a crush on you."
"Really?"
"Is that unbelievable?" The merchant mimicked him.
"The unbelievable thing is that we've found each other again," Jesper caressed his cheek, feeling the skin burning under his fingers, and before he could move to kiss him, Wylan must have read his mind and closed the distance between their mouths. Jesper's hands slid down his back as the merchling climbed further on top of him, kissing him again and again. When Wylan stopped, Jesper took a moment of absolute silence to enjoy his face so close.
"You know, while I was working at the university, I overheard the professors talking about a new physical theory where the existence of coexisting universes alongside ours but outside our spacetime is postulated, like parallel and different realities." It was hard to understand the mental connections that could have led Wylan to think about something like that while they were blissfully making out.
"You lost me there," Jesper admitted, raising an eyebrow.
"Imagine a world similar to ours, but with some differences," Wylan tried to explain. "For example, a world identical to ours, but where goats don't exist."
"That sounds terrible. If I had a goat, I'd call it Milo."
"Don't get distracted," Wylan jokingly scolded.
"Okay, sorry, go on."
"So, according to this theory, there could exist infinite worlds, each different from ours. With some similarities and some differences." Wylan paused, searching for the right words to express what was on his mind. "I know it's absurd, but I was thinking that we would have met in every universe. Even in a world where we didn't meet in Novyi Zem as kids. I don't know how to explain it, but I have a feeling that I would have met you."
"Even if I were a goat?"
"Especially if you were a goat."
Jesper allowed himself to believe a little bit too, that in every universe they would be there, and they would be together. And it wasn't hard because it wasn't complicated to believe that everything would be alright when Wylan's smile was warmer than the sunbeams that had now invaded the entire room.
"Wy?" He called out in a whisper, as if about to confess a secret.
"Jes?" Wylan responded in the same tone, as if ready to listen to that secret.
"I think I love you." He revealed the secret with a voice so light that it would have flown away if the window had been opened.
"Jes?" This time it was Wylan's turn to call him in a whisper.
"Wy?" Jesper replied just as Wylan had done a moment before.
Wylan leaned in and even softer whispered in his ear, "I'm sure I love you."
Jesper didn't hold back, he pulled him close and rolled onto the bed until they found themselves on opposite sides, Wylan underneath him laughing while Jesper on top of him kissed every inch of his skin. "If I die today, I'll come looking for you in another universe."
"The one where you're a goat?"
"Especially the one where I'm a goat."
Jesper couldn't believe he had gotten rid of a Kherguud with Wylan's weevil; for once, his fidgety habit of playing with whatever came his way had proven useful.
"No way am I telling him that if I survived it's thanks to him, again," he thought as he ran. He had an appointment with Inej and had already wasted too much time trying not to die. He saw her emerging from the door.
"Jesper, where..."
"Gun," he demanded, and as soon as she removed it from her shoulder, he snatched it from her hand, and together they ran recklessly towards the cathedral. But it was too late; the siren had already started ringing, and from where they were, he couldn't even see where the target was.
"Anyone can shoot, but not everyone can aim," his mother's voice spoke to him. "We are Zowa. You and me."
But it was impossible; he would never make it. Yet Wylan was so convinced that he could do crazy things just because he was a Grisha, maybe he was right. Jesper shouldered the gun anyway.
"Jesper?" His friend called, concerned.
He wanted to reassure her and tell her he knew exactly what he was doing, but it wasn't true. "Inej," he said, "if you have a spare prayer, this would be the time for it."
He fired.
Wylan's face, which just a few hours earlier Jesper covered in kisses, was now covered in bruises and blood. Jesper sat beside him, a little further away stood Alys with her personal maid and a handful of stadwatch guards keeping watch, impossible to tell if they were protecting or threatening them. Jesper and Wylan were enjoying the spectacle of the entire Council of Tides accusing a handcuffed and enraged Jan Van Eck.
"What's happening?" Alys asked, reaching for Wylan's hand. "Why is Jan in trouble?"
"You stay away from her," Van Eck spat as the stadwatch dragged him down the steps from the stage. "Alys, don't listen to him. You're going to need to get Smeet to put up the funds for bail money. Go to—"
"I don't think Alys will be able to help with that," Kaz appeared, and Jesper relaxed.
Now they just had to wait for Dirtyhands to pull the strings of the play, and soon everything would end as planned. Jesper felt Wylan's hand take his own. He crossed his legs to hide their connection and continued to hold it. They both needed it; Wylan was facing his father's wrath, and Jesper couldn't stop thinking about his own father's safety. He hoped with all his heart that this story would end quickly and that Colm would never be involved in such madness again.
"You can't give this cretin control of my funds," Van Eck shouted, gesturing to Wylan with his shackled hands. "Even if I'd wanted him to inherit, he's incompetent to do so. He can't read, he can barely string a basic sentence together on the page. He's an idiot, a soft-minded child." Jesper squeezed Wylan's hand tighter. He felt disgusted by that man and how he addressed his own son. No human being deserved to be treated like that.
"Van Eck!" said Radmakker, one of the most prominent merchants. "How can you say such a thing about your own blood?"
Van Eck laughed wildly. "This at least I can prove! Give him something to read. Go on, Wylan, show them what a great businessman you will make."
Radmakker laid a hand on Wylan shoulder. "You needn't oblige his ravings, son."
Wylan stood up, Jesper saw him wince from the pain of a rib twinge, and he moved beside him to allow him to lean on his arm. "It's all right, Mr. Radmakker," Wylan reassured him, trying to sound composed despite the pain he must have been feeling. "I would be very happy to show my father what a 'great businessman' I will make." Then he motioned to Kaz, who promptly took out the miniature phonograph they had worked on the night before with Professor Levi. "If you could be so kind as to let these gentlemen hear the recording."
Kaz turned the small crank of the phonograph, and immediately the sound of Jan Van Eck's voice admitting all his crimes came out: hiring assassins to kill Wylan, unjustly imprisoning his first wife in an asylum, acting against the Council of Tides to monopolize a drug, and allying with Pekka Rollins to obtain it. The faces of the merchants grew more horrified as the recording continued; the cruelty in the way Jan addressed his son became increasingly unbearable to listen to and culminated in his order to beat him. At that point, Kaz stopped turning the crank. Van Eck was pale, realizing the trap he had fallen into. He had once again underestimated his son. The triumph in Wylan's expression could not be dampened even by the swelling on his face. "A far-sighted one," Wylan said.
"It's a trick," said Van Eck. "It's another one of Brekker's tricks." He broke away from his guards and rushed at Wylan, but Jesper stepped in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulders, and held him at bay with straight arms. "You'll destroy everything I've built, everything my father and his father built. You... useless moron."
"Just because I can't read?" Wylan was clearly struggling to keep control and not shout back. "I can do everything you do and even better than you do."
Van Eck's laughter sounded completely insane and incredulous. "It's absurd for you to even think you could—"
Radmakker interposed between them. "Van Eck, what are you insinuating? My father couldn't read, he was born blind, and yet he was a man of unsurpassed business acumen. He saved this city when the epidemic risked starving us all to death. Your son's condition does not in the slightest prevent him from practicing the profession."
Van Eck was so bewildered that he couldn't find the words, Jesper still held him back so he wouldn't get any closer to Wylan, and took advantage of the moment to say in a low enough tone that no one else could hear: "I can read to him."
"He has a very soothing baritone," added Wylan, brushing against Jesper's arm. Within seconds, Van Eck had started to agitate again in an attempt to launch himself at Wylan, the guards dragged him away, and his screams grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared out of the Church.
Jesper had never believed in miracles. A gambler knows that luck doesn't care about who you are, and you should be grateful to be touched by it even just once in your life. When sitting at the card table, you could feel the euphoria of the win precisely because losing is the norm. Yet that day, Jesper needed to believe. He believed with all his heart that everything would turn out fine.
He believed it as he fought against the Kherguud that had seriously threatened to take him out.
He believed it when he fired the impossible shot, managing to hit Kuwei square in the chest.
He believed it when he watched Van Eck being dragged away, his crooked kingdom finally demolished.
He believed it as he walked slowly home to Hendriks' with Wylan still tightly holding his hand, Alys anchored to her personal maid's arm, and Kaz leaning on the cane with the crow's head glowing illuminated by lanterns.
He believed it when he saw Inej and Rotty helping Kuwei, still smeared with pig's blood, off the boat.
He believed it when his father, tired like he had never seen him before but safe and sound, hugged him tightly, leaving him breathless.
He stopped believing when he noticed Nina, still on the boat, clinging to Matthias's lifeless body. And only when Jesper heard Wylan whisper, "We were all supposed to make it," he realized that he was thinking the same thing.
"No mournings," he found himself repeating, his voice choked with tears.
"No funerals," he heard everyone else respond to the Barrel's call.
The boat had been prepared, the final part of the plan was ready to unfold. It was time for farewells; the one with Nina had tasted like a goodbye far too distant, he didn't want to see her go, but he knew it was the right thing.
Kuwei had swollen eyes from crying, but if he had gotten to know him a little during the days they spent at the Black Veil, he understood that he didn't hesitate when he wanted something, he asked for it in a brazen manner. So he wasn't surprised when he suggested, "You should visit me in Ravka? We can learn to use our powers together."
What surprised him was Wylan intervening with a menacing look he must have learned from Kaz. "How about I push you in the canal and we see if you know how to swim?"
Jesper smiled and shrugged, "I've heard he's one of the richest men in Ketterdam. I wouldn't cross him." Jesper intertwined his fingers with Wylan's, and he leaned against his side. He didn't need to say anything else.
Kuwei made an offended face, but just before lying down in the boat, he playfully smiled at Wylan, who returned it with a light laugh and leaned even closer to Jesper's arm. Jesper had never understood what kind of relationship those two had, whether they were friends, rivals, or simply two guys who had ended up in a group of criminals almost by chance and had to fight to survive.
Then he saw his father lying down in the boat and tried to push away the thought of his mother on her deathbed, shaken by the fever of the poisons that had remained in her body. Colm was fine, everything was fine.
Lastly, they laid Matthias's body, from which Nina had delicately removed the flowers with which everyone had covered him in turn just a short while ago. That was the farewell that hurt the most; Jesper still felt it firmly in his throat. Wylan stroked his arm, perhaps he had sensed what he was thinking, and only when he turned to look at him did he realize that tears were streaking his cheeks.
They had been back for an hour now, it was deep into the night, and the house was silent. Alys had already fallen asleep for several hours, Inej had gone to sleep in one of the guest rooms, but Jesper had no idea where Wylan was. The merchling had shown him one of the guest rooms they would use for the night, because Wylan's room had been turned into a nursery and was no longer usable, then he had vanished somewhere in that immense house. Jesper found himself wandering the corridors, casting glances into all the rooms he came across and listening intently for any noise that might reveal where on earth Wylan was hiding.
And then a clue: the clear sound of a piano. This time it would be impossible to mistake it for anyone else; when he opened the door, it could only be him sitting at the keyboard with a melancholic air.
"Aren't you tired?" Jesper asked, observing him from the threshold.
"I'm exhausted," Wylan made a faint laugh, not hiding very well that he had probably been crying until a moment ago. "But I'm not ready to go to bed yet."
Jesper approached him, placing his hands gently on his shoulders. "Can you play it for me? My song?" he whispered in his ear.
"Of course, as many times as you want," Wylan looked up at him, and Jesper planted a light kiss on his lips. "So, make sure you like it."