“Because you two will stand out on the Belendt line. Here in Ketterdam, you’re nothing to look at—assuming Jesper doesn’t wear one of his brighter plaids.”

“Thank you, Jesper,” said Nina. “You’re very welcome, gorgeous. See, Kaz? That’s how the civilized folk do.”

“I thought being rich would make everything better,”

Jesper sat down next to Wylan. “Just learn to take a compliment. Kaz doesn’t hand them out often.”

“It’s a weevil?” Inej asked, examining it. “A chemical weevil,” said Jesper. “But Wylan still hasn’t named it. My vote is for the Wyvil.”

Soon Jesper was sweating, trying to focus on the rhythm of the work, but he couldn’t shake the sadness in his heart. He’d lost friends. He’d been on jobs when things had gone wrong. Why did this feel so different?

“I like walking the streets free,” said Jesper. “I like not worrying about being snatched up by a slaver or put to death by some skiv like our friend Helvar here. Besides, I have other skills that bring me more pleasure and profit than this. Lots of other skills.”

“Wylan, you’re cute, but you’re a whole lot of crazy in one little glass.”

Jesper could feel himself coming alive, the worry that had been dogging his steps since he’d gotten news of his father’s arrival in Ketterdam falling away. He felt free, dangerous, like lightning rolling over the prairie.

“No more deals,” said Kaz. “I never should have gone to Rollins in the first place.” Jesper’s brows rose. “Are you actually admitting you made a mistake?”

Jesper swung first. Kaz dodged right and then they were grappling. They slammed into the wall, knocked heads, drew apart in a flurry of punches and grabs.

“Jesper isn’t making a joke, Inej,” said Kaz. “He’s figuring the odds.”

Kuwei let his hands flop to his sides. Colm was next, and Jesper instantly wanted to forget the image of his father laid out like a corpse.

“What the hell just happened?” Jesper asked. He was leaning against the railing, his rifle beside him. His hair was mussed, his pupils dilated. He seemed almost drunk, or like he’d just rolled out of someone’s bed. He always had that look after a fight.

“Half his notebooks are full of doodles. Mostly of you. And those aren’t good either.” “Really? Doodles of me?”

“Too late,” said Jesper. He tore off his mask and cape and shouldered his rifle. “If they came looking for fun, let’s give them some.”

“And where was I supposed to go, Jes? You know how dangerous it is for … for someone like you.” “Da,” Jesper said, looking his father in the eye at last. “You didn’t tell them I’m—” “Of course not!” Grisha. Why won’t either of them say it?

He could never go back to that life. He hadn’t been built for it. Maybe if his mother had lived, she would have taught him to channel his restlessness. Maybe she would have shown him how to use his power instead of hiding it.

But those weren’t even the right questions. The real question was why Jesper did it all without hesitating.

this is for my people who just lost somebody