CHAPTER FOUR;
ace was dead

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a/n: i don't normally put this up here, but just wanted to say, the chapter changed a bit because i decided to remember the crucial detail that ace has chains welded to her.

KAZ NEVER THOUGHT THE DAY would come when he allowed a six-year-old boy to order him around—yet here he was. The little person had tried to grab his hand and had promptly backed up when Kaz narrowed his eyes at him, but not before making a face of utter disbelief.

"You're rude, Mister Bastard," he told Kaz, "My mum says being polite brings good things."

Resisting the urge to smash his own head against the wall, having to deal with six children already in a graveyard for days, Kaz spoke tightly, "I don't care what your mother might say, I need you to take me to A—Bela."

The boy's eyes widened and he nodded. "Bela is hurt bad, Mister Bastard."

"Then take me to her."

The boy frowned at Kaz but started walking fast out of the alleyway anyway. Kaz put his mask back on his face and followed the boy through the maze of the Fifth Harbor until they reached the end of it, where there were no boats docked in place, and the stone ground of the harbor melted into the sand to meet the ocean.

"Ciara! I got the Bastard!" the boy shouted as he ran forward, and Kaz's eyes fell on a girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen-years-old, sitting on the ground with Ace's head on her lap.

Kaz's steps faltered for a moment, his heart-stopping. Ace's acrobat suit was barely intact, barely keeping her covered; she was drenched from the water of the ocean and blood, she seemed thinner, her skin as pale as he'd ever seen it, a gash on her stomach, its stitches ripped, and chains attached to her hands and ankles; but the worst part was that she wasn't moving. She lay limp in the girl's arms, as Ciara patted her face and called her name, telling her he was there.

Walking hurriedly towards them, and taking off his mask, Kaz dropped to his knees next to Ace, not caring in the slightest about the pang that shot through his leg. He reached for her face, and even through the leather he felt how cold her skin felt—her lips were parted and nearly blue, and her black lashes fanned across her cheeks unmoving. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he shifted her body, laying her head on his lap, ignoring the two kids hovering around him, "Ace?"

His eyes snapped to the cuffs around her wrists for a split second, and his blood boiled at the sight of the welded metal with no lock and the red scratched skin around them—she must've sawm even in her state, otherwise, she could've drowned with the weight of the chains. Kaz brushed her hair out of her face, and spoke again, his voice hoarse, "Misery?"

Her eyes fluttered open for a split second, landing on him before she let out a barely audible sigh and her head lolled to the side, her body going limp in his arms as if she was fighting to be conscious until he got there.

Jaw clenching, Kaz glared at her face, "Fucking keep breathing, Misery, you're not doing this to me."

With that, he stood up, with her in his arms, the chains weighing him down, and gritting his teeth as his leg ached, and any demons of his past tried to get to him—not that they could because with Ace dying in his arms Kaz could only think about ways he could give her his own life so she could keep breathing.

"Thank you," the girl, Ciara, said as she handed him his mask, and Kaz slipped it on his face before tucking Ace against him again. "Do you... need help with her? My Mum knows a doctor—"

"I can take care of her," Kaz said tightly. He was about to leave when he looked at the two kids staring up at him and sighed, cursing under his breath. "Thank you for saving her."

"She saves a lot of people, Mister Bastard," the boy told him, "We wanted to help."

With a nod, Kaz began walking hearing the girl speak to her brother, "She'll be fine, Luka. Dirtyhands will take care of her."

Looking down at the unconscious girl in his arms, a scene he was not ready to relive from when they were first getting on the schooner, Kaz couldn't help but agree with the girl. Dirtyhands would take care of her, in his own way—he'd slaughter whoever hurt her. Kaz Brekker would get her a healer. But he'd have to try and find the Rietveld in him, to allow himself to take care of her like she needed, to... care for her.

He half ran through the city's dark streets, getting looks from the people around him as a masked man carrying a dying chained girl in his arms, but he couldn't care less. He only stopped when he arrived at the Fighting Pit of Ketterdam, walking in without a care in the world, through the dingy corridors around the Arena until he arrived at the infirmary.

He burst through the door, finding the boy he was looking for, with his braided hair, and Grisha hands. The boy was startled, turning back from his box of treasures just as Kaz lay Ace on the makeshift table in the center of the little room.

"Who are y—Bela?!" The boy's eyes widened when his gaze fell on Misery, and Kaz wondered just how many street kids knew Ace—well, Bela. "What happened?"

Locking the door behind him, Kaz took off his mask and for the first time in his life since Reaper's Barge, his voice was threatening to cross the line between demanding and begging. "Heal her."

Eira shook his head, snapping out of the surprise of seeing him there fairly quickly, and swallowed audibly, "I don't know if I can, Brekker."

"Just do it."

Taking a shaky breath Eira, in all his eleven-year-old determination, rolled back his shoulders and approached Ace. He seemed to hold back his reaction to her as he lifted his hands letting them hover above her. Kaz saw as Eira shut his eyes tightly and made some unknown gestures with his hands, just above where Ace's heart was.

"Her heart is beating," he said in a whisper, "barely."

"Then do something about it," Kaz snapped.

Eira scowled at him, peeking through one eye to glare at him and Kaz merely narrowed his eyes at the boy. He was a Grisha Healer in training, one that had come to him for help with his secret—Kaz had found him a job at the Fighting Pit, got him protection from the Dregs and in return Eira become his sort of personal Healer, knowing not to touch him when he healed him, and keeping his loyalties with him (not Per Haskell).

He watched as Eira revived Ace, watched as the color in her face slowly but surely returned just enough for her to seem alive, and yet she was still unconscious, though now he could see her breathing, her chest rising. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"I dunno," muttered Eira, moving lower down the table to where the badly healed gash was on her stomach. Carefully, Eira lifted the chain that lay across her stomach and moved it aside to start working on her wound. "But she's alive and needs more healing."

"You called her Bela," Kaz found himself saying, wanting to know how all these children knew Ace's real name, when he had known her for years and only learned it because some pirate said it.

"That's her name," replied Eira with a frown.

"How do you know her?"

"She was the one who told me to come to you for help," said Eira, focusing on the wound on her stomach, where the flesh was already sewing back together, but as slowly as watching paint dry. "Well, she told me to go to Dirtyhands and offer my services as a Healer in turn for safety. Said you'd never help me."

Kaz felt his lips tug the slightest up, and looked at her, her face smeared with blood. Eira kept talking, "Bela comes here sometimes, rarely, but when she does she's injured beyond the point she can do something about it herself."

"It seems the pattern didn't break," muttered Kaz as his eyes returned to the healing wound just above her tattoo with the spade. "Where else is she hurt? All that blood—"

"Most of this blood isn't hers," Eira informed him.

Biting the inside of his cheek to prevent the proud smirk from growing on his face, Kaz sat down on a stool, his leg stretched out in front of him as he waited for Eira to finish healing his Misery. When he was done, and had taken care of her wounded wrists as well as he could, Eira stepped back and went to search in a closet, coming back with a big linen sheet, "To cover her up," he explained, "I don't think anyone should be seeing that tattoo," he added, his eyes falling on the spade on her hip. "And the chains."

Kaz nodded, putting the sheet over her body before lifting her again in his arms. This time Ace moved, a whimper escaping her lips as her eyes shut tightly, and she turned her head to the side, burying her face in his chest; his arms tightened around her.

"She shouldn't be moving a lot," Eira told him as he put on his mask again. "I'm no expert yet so the wound may open again. Otherwise, I think she'll be alright, you just have to find a way to take the chains off her."

Throwing Eira a few kruge, Kaz left the Fighting Pit with the weight on his shoulders lifting with each step and Ace the furthest he could get her from Death. He moved fast through the streets, as the sun started to rise, and he reached West Stave, standing in front of the door he'd seen for the first time months ago—where he had seen her for the first time.

Holding her the best he could, Kaz used one hand to open the door with his picks and slipped inside, locking it again before moving up the stairs and into her room where he lay her on the bed, a sigh leaving his lips as the pressure on his leg lessened. Taking off his mask, his jacket, and gloves that were dirty with the blood on her body, he lay them in a chair before moving to the washroom where he grabbed a spare towel before wetting it with water and coming back to her side.

Crouching down beside her, Kaz did his best to wash the blood off her skin, swallowing down the sickness climbing up his throat and urging himself to focus on Ace, with her freckled cheeks and rosy chapped lips lacking the usual crimson pigment. He focused on the sound of her breathing, on the signs that she was alive, instead of the feeling of her cold skin under his touch from when he got to her, instead of the memory of corpses sloshing around him as the gelid waters rocked him. He focused on his Misery as the towel became red, and his hands trembled each time they brushed her soft skin.

When he got to the blood staining her cheeks, Ace stirred on the bed, her eyes fluttering open, grey and stormy as they'd always been. Her eyes met his and Kaz froze with the towel inches away from her skin. She frowned, looking around.

"Am I dead?" she croaked out, her voice raspy as she looked up at him.

Kaz's jaw clenched. She could've been. He shook his head. "You're alive, Misery."

She nodded, closing her eyes again for a moment before she looked back at him with pain-stained eyes.

"You didn't come for me," she whispered, as he gently wiped the blood off her cheek with the towel, not taking his gaze off hers.

"I know. I was working on it."

She paused before her lip quivered the slightest. "It was your fault."

"I know."

She blinked and a single tear fell from her eye. And without even thinking it through, he reached for it with his thumb, wiping it away. She took a shaky breath, "You can't do that, Kaz."

"Do what?"

"Look at me like you'd die if you lost me." Another tear fell, and again he brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping it away. "You can't do that unless it's true."

He went still, looking down at her, jaw clenched, because he had felt like he was dying when he thought she had died in that fire. He'd forgotten how to breathe, why he kept breathing—he'd forgotten his brother and Rollins and any plans of revenge. And now she was staring up at him, eyes begging him to tell her it was true and the words wouldn't come.

How could he tell her she was his greatest weakness, how could he admit to himself that the boy he'd tried to bury and leave behind had come back? Kaz Rietveld yearned to tell her the truth and yet Dirtyhands held a knife to his throat—Kaz Brekker didn't have weaknesses, and yet there she was. But he shouldn't have that weakness, he shouldn't have looked at her like that—the boy that day in Vellgeluk was weak and had put her in danger.

Her eyes strayed from his whilst he remained silent, and she nodded faintly. "Next time you look at me like that; make sure you know how to dodge a bullet, Brekker. I will kill you before anyone else takes me because of you."

"I'll die before I let anyone take you again," was the only thing he could tell her, his voice coming out low and strangled like he was forcing himself to admit it.

She didn't look at him, wiping a tear briskly before it could fall before he could do it himself. Her hand froze at the sound of metal clicking and she looked in horror at the chains and cuffs that still bound her. She forced out a breath and raised herself off the bed, standing, and Kaz along with her, and walked over to a dresser in the room, letting the chains drag behind her as she pretend not to be bothered by them. Letting out a humorless chuckle, she rummaged through a drawer as she spoke, "You say that, yet you still didn't ask me to stay in Ketterdam."

"You said you needed to go."

He ran a hand through his jaw as she slammed her drawer shut. "I never said that's what I wanted." With that, she grabbed what she found in the drawer and turned to the bathroom, flinging the door shut.

"You didn't need to, either," replied Kaz through the closed door.

"What was I supposed to do, you bastard?" he heard her say, the sound of water running muffling her words slightly. "I'm a thief. I have no power over this city, I hold no influence over anything. If they found me, I'd be dead."

"I wouldn't let them—"

"Why wouldn't you?" she cut him off, opening the door dressed only in one of her black satin slip dresses, only this one fell to the middle of her thighs and was tied around her neck due to the chains not allowing her to use it as it was meant to. "Because I'm useful?"

"No. It's not because of that."

"Then, why?" she demanded to know, her hands wringing around the cuffs at her hands.

He remained quiet but a voice in his head shouted for him to be honest, to trust her. Ace pressed her lips together and nodded.

"I thought I always had you, you were always there even if it was to threaten me. But the second I tell you I'm leaving you don't say anything. I don't want to go. I want to stay here—with you—because in some twisted way, you've become my family, Kaz, my home. I wanted you to tell me we'd find a solution if I was caught, that you'd fight the impossible, just like we did to break into the fucking Ice Court, to have me with you! It was supposed to be you and me."

"It was supposed to be you and me," Kaz finally admitted, his voice rough with the struggle to say those words. "It is you and me, Misery."

"But you weren't there," she spoke, her voice breaking, the movement of trying to get the cuffs off becoming more frantic and panicked. "And you still can't pull your head out of your arse and admit to yourself what you truly want. Either that or I'm dead wrong about us. About you."

You're not, he wanted to tell her. You're not wrong. But he couldn't say the words, he couldn't get them out.

Ace let out a chuckle and nodded. "Don't let me keep you, Brekker. You can show yourself out."

Letting out a strained breath, Kaz ran a hand through his hair and looked at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at her, where she was leaning against the door of her bathroom, still trying to get the cuffs off but still raising her eyebrows expectantly at him—a very different image from her lifeless body a couple of hours ago.

"Just lay down, Misery, you shouldn't be moving about. You nearly died—"

"I'm aware," she said cutting him off. "But why you care is beyond me. You left me there."

"I had a plan to get you out."

"Get me out? My ashes, you mean? Because if that fucking vermin of a man hadn't strayed from his actual job, it would've been my body left to burn in that warehouse." With each word, she walked closer to him, her breathing ragged, her voice breaking, her body trembling. "If he hadn't tried to..."

Her body shook with tremors and Kaz was sure she was about to collapse; he closed the distance between them just as her legs gave out, and caught her, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright and holding the back of her head as her body wracked with sobs.

His own body shuddered as he raked his bare fingers through her hair, as she clung on to his shirt as if he was her lifeline, as he tugged her as close as possible to him. The ghosts were out of their shallow graves, the sickness was there, but something else seemed to be keeping them at bay, something that kept his hold on Ace.

"Get them off, Kaz," she begged him in cry, her hands shaking as they fisted his shirt. "Please."

"I'll get Jesper here as soon as I can," was all he could say, and hope the sharpshooter was proficient enough to take the pain away from his Misery.

"I couldn't get out," she cried, her voice so broken he could feel its jagged corners piercing his heart. He never wanted to see her this way—so vulnerable.

"What did they do to you?" He asked, his voice laced with barely contained anger.

"Why can't I hate you?" she whispered instead against his chest, "It would make everything so easy."

"Bela, what did they do?" he asked again, "Whose blood was on you?"

"I... Van Eck's henchman, he... tried to have me and I killed him," she told him, "Slaughtered him, really."

Kaz tightened his hold on her, and a wave of pride shot through him. That's my girl, he thought. "Did he burn in the warehouse?"

Ace nodded against his chest and Kaz's brain sparked with an idea, a new plan forming in his mind, a way to keep Bela Miseria in Ketterdam as she rightfully should.

"I'm so tired," she whispered, still trembling against him, and as much as Kaz tried to hide it, his own body shook too. She made to move out of his hold but his grip tightened around her, even as the sickness grew stronger and the water started to rise bringing the memories of the corpses with them. But now that she was breathing and alive in his arms he feared if he let go, she'd be gone.

She was like a poison he wanted to drown himself in. And little by little he built his immunity against the sickness that followed her touch, with each day on that journey he became less vulnerable to his drowning memories whenever his skin met hers. But he wasn't immune yet and so he let her go but not before leading her to her bed and laying the covers over her trembling body.

Her hands shook as she looked down at the chains again and another sob racked her body. "Get them off me, Kaz, just... Make it stop."

"I will," he promised, cupping her hands in his and prompting her to look up at him with glossy eyes. "Just rest and I'll take care of everything. I'll take care of you."

She blinked, and tears fell from her eyes, "You and me?"

He nodded, squeezing her hands in reassurance, a tremor rolling through him, "You and me, Misery."

He straightened shaking as he went to put on his gloves once more, donning his jacket and picking up his mask. When he returned to her side, her eyes were trailing him vaguely as if she was forcing herself to keep awake. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Kaz's lips tugged up slightly, "I have an exchange in Goedmidbridge. Van Eck's wife for you."

"I'm not there anymore," she said faintly.

"And hopefully they think you're dead," he told her and saw even through exhaustion as her eyes lit up with understanding.

"Come back," she told him.

"I will."

Her eyes fluttered close with his promise and Kaz brushed his knuckles over her cheek before heading for the door, only to be stopped by her broken whisper, "If you'd ask me to stay, I would have."

Everyone in his crew was in their posts (and informed that Ace was still alive) and Kaz and Aly were walking through the bridge towards the second party in the exchange. Kaz's first thought when he glimpsed Van Eck moving towardGoedmedbridge was, This man should never play cards. His second was that someone needed to break his neck—Ace's trembling body as she shook from what he'd put her through flashed in Kaz's mind and he had to restrain himself from murdering the Council Member in broad daylight in front of everyone (Ace should be the one to have that pleasure).

Van Eck was trying to keep his expression neutral, but he was working so hard to look impassive that his high forehead was shiny with sweat. His shoulders were fixed stiffly and his chest jutted forward as if someone had attached a string to his sternum and yanked him upward. He walked onto Goedmedbridge at a stately pace, surrounded by liveried guards in red and gold—now that surprised Kaz. He'd thought Van Eck would prefer to enter the Barrel with as little pomp as possible. He turned this new information over in his mind.

It was dangerous to ignore the details. No man liked to be shown up, and for all his attempts at a dignified promenade, Van Eck's vanity had to be wounded. A merch prided himself on his business sense, his ability to strategize, to manipulate men and markets. He'd be looking to get a bit of his own back after having his hand forced by a lowly Barrel thug.

Kaz didn't bother to search for Ace. He knew she wasn't there, so he kept his eyes on Van Eck. For the briefest moment, Kaz and Van Eck sized each other up from across the bridge. Kaz couldn't help but be reminded of when they'd faced each other this way seven days ago. He'd thought too much about that meeting. Late at night, when the day's work was done, he'd lain awake, taking apart every moment of it. Again and again, Kaz thought of those few crucial seconds when he'd let his attention shift to Ace instead of keeping his eyes on Van Eck.

Ace was right, if he did it again he should learn to dodge a bullet—it wasn't a mistake he could afford to make again. That boy had betrayed his weakness in a single glance, had ceded the war for the sake of a single battle, and put Ace—all of them— in danger. He was a wounded animal who needed to be put down. And Kaz had done it gladly, choked the life from him without pause for regret. The Kaz that remained saw only the job: Get Ace to stay. Make Van Eck pay. The rest was useless noise.

He'd thought about Van Eck's mistakes on Vellgeluk too. The merch had been stupid enough to trumpet the fact that his precious heir was cooking in the womb of his new wife—young Alys Van Eck, with her milkwhite hair and dumpling hands. He'd been goaded by pride, but also by his hatred for Wylan, his desire to clear his son from the books like a failed business venture.

Kaz and Van Eck exchanged the shortest of nods. Kaz kept a gloved hand on Alys' shoulder. He doubted she would try to run off, but who knew what ideas were pinging around in the girl's head? Then Van Eck started walking forward (sans Ace), and Kaz and Alys started across the bridge. The closer the merch got, the more he felt that flint inside him, scraping against the hollow places, ready to ignite into rage. He thought again about simply killing Van Eck. Patience, he reminded himself. He'd practiced it early and often. Patience would bring all his enemies to their knees in time. Patience and the money he intended to take off this merch scum.

"Do you think he's handsome?" Alys asked.

"What?" Kaz said, unsure he had heard her correctly. She'd been humming and singing all the way from the market where Kaz had removed her blindfold, and he'd been doing his best to tune her out.

Alys wrinkled her small nose, considering. "I think Jan would be handsome, if he were not quite so old."

"Lucky for you, we live in a world where men can make up for being old by being rich."

"It would be nice if he were both young and rich."

"Why stop there? How about young, rich, and royal? Why settle for a merch when you could have a prince?"

"I suppose," said Alys. "But it's the money that's important. I've never really seen the point in princes."

Well, no one would ever doubt this girl was Kerch born and raised."Alys, I'm shocked to find you and I are in agreement."

Kaz monitored the periphery of the bridge as they drew closer to the center, keeping a careful eye on Van Eck's guards, noting the open doors of the third-floor balcony at the Ammbers Hotel, the flower barge parked below the west side of the bridge as it was every morning. He assumed VanEck would have people positioned in the surrounding buildings just as he did. But none of them would be permitted to land a kill shot. No doubt Van Eck would love to see him floating facedown in a canal, but Kaz could lead Van Eck to Kuwei, and that knowledge should keep him from taking a bullet to the skull.

They stopped a good ten paces apart. Alys tried to step forward, but Kaz held her firmly in place. "You said you were bringing me to Jan," she objected.

"And here you are," Kaz said. "Now be still."

"Jan!" she yelped sharply. "It's me!"

"I know, my dear," Van Eck said calmly, his gaze locked on Kaz. He lowered his voice. "This isn't over, Brekker. I want Kuwei Yul-Bo."

"Are we here to repeat ourselves? You want the secret to jurda parem, and I want my money. The deal is the deal."

"I don't have thirty million kruge to part with."

"Isn't that a shame? I'm sure someone else does."

"And have you had any luck securing a new buyer?"

"Don't trouble yourself on my account, merch. The market will provide. Do you want your wife back or did I drag poor Alys here for nothing? Where's Ace?"

"Just a moment," said Van Eck ignoring his last question. "Alys, what are we naming the child?"

"Very good," Kaz said. His team had passed off Wylan as Kuwei Yul-Boon Vellgeluk and Van Eck had been well fooled. Now the merch wanted confirmation he was actually getting his wife and not some girl with a radically tailored face and a false belly. "Seems an old dog can learn a new trick. Besides rolling over."

Van Eck ignored him. "Alys," he repeated, "what name are we giving the child?"

"The baby?" replied Alys in confusion. "Jan if it's a boy. Plumje if it's a girl."

"We agreed Plumje is what you're naming your new parakeet."

Alys' lip jutted out. "I never agreed."

"Oh, I think Plumje is a lovely name for a girl," said Kaz. "Satisfied, merch?"

"Come," Van Eck said, ushering Alys forward. Kaz stopped the woman with his hand.

"An exchange includes both parties delivering their part. Where's Ace?"

Van Eck's eye twitched and ran a hand over his tie. "Would you like her ashes, Mister Brekker? I'm afraid your little thief passed last night in the fire in Eil Komedie."

"She's dead?" Kaz asked, releasing Alys as if he was shocked and allowing the woman to run to Van Eck. The latter nodded sympathetically, a smile curving on his lips.

He still needed to get clear of the bridge. Van Eck would not let him go this easily, especially if Ace was dead and he had no other prisoner to give him answers. Van Eck had released Alys, and she was being led away by his guards. Those red-and-gold uniforms still bothered Kaz. Something was off.

"Mister Brekker," Van Eck said. Kaz heard the excitement in Van Eck'svoice and froze. Maybe the man was better at bluffing than he'd given him credit for. "You gave me your word, Kaz Brekker!" Van Eck shouted in theatrical tones. Everyone within earshot on the Stave turned to stare. "Youswore you would return my wife and son to me! Where are you keeping Wylan?"

And then Kaz saw them—a tide of purple moving toward the bridge, stadwatch flooding onto the Stave, rifles raised, cudgels drawn. Kaz lifted a brow. The merch was finally making it interesting.

"Seal off the bridge!" one of them shouted.

Kaz glanced over his shoulder and saw more stadwatch officers blocking their retreat. Van Eck grinned. "Shall we play for real now, Mister Brekker? The might of my city against your band of thugs?"

Kaz didn't bother to answer. He raised his cane to signal Jesper. The first set of fireworks exploded overhead, pale color in the noon light. The plan was in motion.

Kaz yanked a loop of climbing line from inside his pocket and hooked it to the rail. He snagged the head of his cane on the railing beside it, hauled himself up, and vaulted over the side, his momentum carrying him out above the canal. The cord snapped taut, and he arced back toward the bridge like a pendulum, dropping onto the deck of the flower barge.

Two stadwatch boats were already moving toward him quickly as more officers raced down the ramps to the canal. Kaz hadn't known what Van Eck would try—he certainly hadn't expected him to bring the stadwatch into it—but he'd been sure Van Eck would attempt to close off all their escape routes.

Another series of booms sounded, and bursts of pink and green exploded in the sky above the Stave. The tourists cheered. They didn't seem to notice that two of the explosions had come from the canal and had blown holes in the prow of one of the stadwatch boats, sending men scurrying for the sides and into the canal as the craft sank.

Nicely done, Wylan. He'd bought them time—and done it without panicking the bystanders on the Stave. Kaz wanted the crowd in a very good mood. He heaved a flat of wild geraniums into the canal over the protests of the flower seller and grabbed the clothes Matthias had stashed there earlier that morning.

The fireworks had ceased, and a moment later he heard the sound he'd been waiting for, the musical tinkle of coins hitting the pavement, followed by shrieks of delight from the crowd. He grabbed the cord and he gave a sharp tug. With a high-pitched whir, the cord retracted, yanking him upward in a burst of speed. He was back on the bridge in moments, but the scene awaiting him was decidedly different from the one they'd escaped less than two minutes before. West Stave was in chaos.

Mister Crimsons were everywhere, fifty, sixty, seventy of them in red masks and cloaks, tossing coins into the air as tourists and locals alike pushed and shoved, laughing and shouting, crawling on hands and knees, completely oblivious to the stadwatch officers trying to get past them.

"Mother, Father, pay the rent!" shouted a crowd of girls from the doorway of the Blue Iris.

"I can't, my dear, the money's spent!" the Mister Crimsons chorused back, and tossed another cloud of coins into the air, sending the crowd into freshly delirious shrieks of joy.

"Clear the way!" shouted the captain of the guard.

One of the officers tried to unmask a Mister Crimson standing by a lamppost, and the crowd began booing. Kaz plunged into the swirl of red capes and people scrambling for coins. Suddenly a deep, thunderous boom shook the Stave. People toppled, grabbed at one another, at walls, at whatever was closest. Kaz almost lost his footing and righted himself with his cane. When he looked up, it was like trying to peer through a thick veil. Smoke hung heavy in the air. Kaz's ears were ringing. As if from a great distance, he heard frightened screams, cries of terror. A woman ran past him, face and hair coated in dust and plaster like a pantomime ghost, hands clapped over her ears. There was blood trickling from beneath her palms. A gaping hole had been blown in the facade of the House of the White Rose.

Something was wrong. He'd planned a friendly riot, not amass disaster, and Wylan wasn't the type to miscalculate so gravely. Someone else had come to make trouble on West Stave, someone who didn't mind doing more than a little damage. He raced for the nearest alleyway.

He'd used a lot of money to get Ace back, and though he did get her back in another way, he got something extra out of his plan. Van Eck and the Council, and surely the whole city soon enough, would believe that Ace was dead. Now he just had to figure out a way to bring Bela Miseria to Ketterdam and ask her to stay—that is if he found the words.

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author's note:

just to let you know, that last part was mostly copied from the book, so not my doing. can't take credit.

hope you liked the chapter :))