The Six of Crows Duology (The Six of Crows, #1-2)

by Leigh Bardugo

Inej was always trying to wring little bits of decency from him. “When everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”

Nina took a deep, shuddering breath. “He wants his revenge, Kaz.” “That’s what he wants, not what he needs,” said Kaz. “Leverage is all about knowing the difference.”

Later, he wasn’t sure why he said it. He’d never told anyone, never spoken the words aloud. But now Kaz kept his eyes on the sails above them and said, “Pekka Rollins killed my brother.” He didn’t have to see Inej’s face to sense her shock. “You had a brother?” “I had a lot of things,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.” Had he wanted her sympathy? Was that why he’d told her? “Kaz—” She hesitated. What would she do now? Try to lay a comforting hand on his arm? Tell him she understood? “I’ll pray for him,” Inej said. “For peace in the next world if not in this one.”

“What do you want, then?” The old answers came easily to mind. Money. Vengeance. Jordie’s voice in my head silenced forever. But a different reply roared to life inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome. You, Inej. You.

Kaz would always remember that moment, when he’d seen greed take hold of his brother, an invisible hand guiding him onward, the lever at work.

There was nothing waiting for him in the city except more hunger and dark alleys and the damp of the canals. Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. Vengeance was waiting, vengeance for Jordie and maybe for himself, too. But he would have to go to meet it.

Laziness wasn’t as reliable as greed, but it still made a fine lever.

Go on and flex, Kaz thought. Doesn’t matter how big the gun is if you don’t know where to point it.

Kaz gazed out at the White Island, head tilted, eyes slightly unfocused. “Scheming face,” Inej murmured. Jesper nodded. “Definitely.” She was going to miss that look.

And yet, they hesitated. The knowledge that they might never see each other again, that some of them – maybe all of them – might not survive this night hung heavy in the air. A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, a boy from the Barrel who had become something worse.

“I’d never even seen a dead body before I came to the Barrel,” Wylan admitted. “It’s not something to be embarrassed about,” Jesper said, surprising himself a little. But he meant it.

He’d waited, counting the minutes, but there was still no sign of Nina or Matthias. They’re in trouble, Kaz had thought. Or you were dead wrong about Matthias, and you’re about to pay for all of those talking tree jokes.

Survive. Survive. Survive. It was the way he’d lived his life, moment to moment, breath to breath, since that terrible morning when he’d woken to find that Jordie was still dead and he was still very much alive.

Pekka Rollins couldn’t count the threats he’d heard, the men he’d killed, or the men he’d seen die, but the look in Brekker’s eye still sent a chill slithering up his spine. Some wrathful thing in this boy was begging to get loose, and Rollins didn’t want to be around when it slipped its leash.

He was behaving like a besotted ninny.

“This is my gang, Brekker. She doesn’t belong to you.” “She doesn’t belong to anyone,” Kaz said, feeling the singe of that angry white flame.

“What you want and what the world needs are not always in accord, Kaz. Praying and wishing are not the same thing.”

The silence between them was dark water. He could not cross it. He couldn’t walk the line between the decency she deserved and the violence this path demanded. If he tried, it might get them both killed. He could only be who he truly was—a boy who had no comfort to offer. So he would give her what he could.

“I would come for you,” he said, and when he saw the wary look she shot him, he said it again. “I would come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together—knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.”

“Try to take this seriously,” said Kaz, voice like a rusty blade.

She felt her weight shift, listed left, felt the pull of the earth, gravity ready to unite her with her shadow far below.

“The deal is the deal.” Rollins shook his head, clucking like a big mother hen. “You take things too personally, Brekker. You should be focused on the job, but you’re too busy holding a grudge.” “That’s where you’re wrong,” said Kaz. “I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges, Rollins.”

Wylan wanted to be brave, but he was cold and bruised, and worse—he was surrounded by the bravest people he knew and all of them seemed badly shaken.

“You’re better than waffles, Matthias Helvar.” A small smile curled the Fjerdan’s lips. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean, my love.”

He turned to face them, and his eyes gleamed flat and black as a shark’s.

You have a weak spot. We all have weak spots.” “What’s yours?” “The company I keep,” she said with a slight smile.

“Kuwei is going to sell himself.” “Are you mad?” “I’d probably be happier if I was,” said Kaz.

“I am not Pekka Rollins or his shadow. I don’t sell girls into brothels. I don’t con helpless kids out of their money.” “Look at the floor of the Crow Club, Kaz.” Her voice was gentle, patient—why was it making him want to set fire to something? “Think of every racket and card game and theft you’ve run. Did all those men and women deserve what they got or what they had taken from them?” “Life isn’t ever what we deserve, Inej. If it were—” “Did your brother get what he deserved?” “No.” But the denial felt hollow.

His gloves lay on the other side of the basin, black against the gold-veined marble. They looked like dead animals.

It was impossible. There was nothing more. He could see the truth even if she couldn’t. Inej was stronger than he would ever be. She’d kept her faith, her goodness, even when the world tried to take it from her with greedy hands.

He didn’t deserve peace and he didn’t deserve forgiveness, but if he was going to die today, maybe the one thing he’d earned was the memory of her—brighter than anything he would ever have a right to—to take with him to the other side.

Kaz strode past Inej, took his discarded gloves from the sink, pulled them on. He shrugged into his coat, straightened his tie in the mirror, tucked his cane under his arm. He might as well go to meet his death in style.

And Inej was wrong about one thing. He knew exactly what he intended to leave behind when he was gone. Damage.

“Do you know Kaz was the first person I ever told about … my condition?” “Of all the people.” “I know. It felt like I’d choke on the words. I was so afraid he’d sneer at me. Or just laugh. But he didn’t do any of that. Telling Kaz, facing my father, freed something in me. And every time I tell someone new, I feel freer.”

“I just don’t get it. I’ve spent my whole life hiding the things I can’t do. Why run from the amazing things you can do?” Jesper gave an irritated shrug. He’d been mad at his father for almost exactly what Wylan was describing, but now he just felt defensive. These were his choices, right or wrong, and they were long since made. “I know who I am, what I’m good at, what I can and can’t do. I’m just … I’m what I am. A great shooter, a bad gambler. Why can’t that be enough?” “For me? Or for you?”

“Who’s Jordie?” Kaz paused. He’d known the question would come, and yet it was still hard to hear his brother’s name spoken. “Someone I trusted.” He looked over his shoulder and met Jesper’s gray eyes. “Someone I didn’t want to lose.”

The thoughts of hatred were so old they had become instincts.

“That’s right. Two more fools for you to cozy. Now tell me his name.” “Kaz and …” Rollins clasped his hands on top of his head. Back and forth he crossed the chapel, back and forth, breathing heavily, as if he’d run the length of the city. “Kaz and …” He turned back to Kaz. “I can make you rich, Brekker.” “I can make myself rich.” “I can give you the Barrel, influence you’ve never dreamed of. Whatever you want.” “Bring my brother back from the dead.”

Greed is my lever. Pekka Rollins had taught him that lesson, and he was right. They’d been fools. Maybe one day Kaz could forgive Jordie for not being the perfect brother he held in his heart. Maybe he could even absolve himself for being the kind of gullible, trusting boy who believed someone might simply want to be kind. But for Rollins there would be no reprieve.

Zoya’s beautiful blue eyes slitted. “Show your face in Ravka, Brekker. We’ll teach you some manners.” “I’ll keep that in mind. When they burn me on the Reaper’s Barge, I definitely want to be remembered as polite.”

👏—👏—👏

“You will meet him again in the next life,” said Inej. “But only if you suffer this now.” They were twin souls, soldiers destined to fight for different sides, to find each other and lose each other too quickly. She would not keep him here. Not like this. “In the next life then,” she whispered. “Go.” She watched his eyes close once more. “Farvell,” she said in Fjerdan. “May Djel watch over you until I can once more.”

Matthias was dreaming again. Dreaming of her. The storm raged around him, drowning out Nina’s voice. And yet his heart was easy. Somehow he knew that she would be safe, she would find shelter from the cold. He was on the ice once more, and somewhere he could hear the wolves howling. But this time, he knew they were welcoming him home.

Trying not to cry.

Jesper braced himself and said, “Actually, you should put my share in my father’s name. I don’t think … I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of money just yet.” Kaz watched him for a long moment. “That’s the right move, Jes.” It was a little like forgiveness.

“I’m not ready to give up on this city, Kaz. I think it’s worth saving.” I think you’re worth saving.

“Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too.” “ Really?” He nodded slowly. “They don’t forget. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for. Inej,”

The problem was that the creatures who had managed to survive the city he’d made were a new kind of misery entirely—Brekker, his Wraith queen, his rotten little court of thugs. A fearless breed, hard-eyed and feral, hungrier for vengeance than for gold.

To all of the readers, librarians, bloggers, BookTubers, Instagrammers, booklr denizens, fic writers, artists, and makers of edits and playlists: Thank you for bringing the Grisha world to life beyond the pages of these books. I am truly grateful.